A Date with Death

Madness. It dictates every moment of our lives, no matter how big, or how small. It promises to be a protecting, comforting friend, when in reality, it devours us slowly, until nothing recognizable is left. I know, because I’ve touched it, tasted it, come face to face with the monster and ventured into his surreal domain, wanting to believe his whispering lies.

I met him, today, as promised, the first assassin who seems to have fault with reality. I felt more secure in the daylight, and for safety’s sake, I took two of the house guards with me, though in truth, I wasn’t sure if they would be able to stop him or not, should he display the odd tendencies I had seen the night before.

We sat on the ledge of the fountain and he chose his cards. The first chosen was The City of Dust, and when I had explained, I thought I heard a sob coming from deep inside him, one that sounded gut wrenching, but it just as quickly transformed into the most macabre, maddening laughter I have ever heard. I can quite honestly say that I trembled, having to draw my hand back from the card so he would not see. But something seemed to change in him afterwards, perhaps a sense of normalcy, before he bid me to continue.

The Warrior of Swords, The Scribe. There was a light of truth in silver eyes, beneath the mask, but his understanding seemed edged by confusion, as if I was not telling him everything. It happened in a matter of ihn, the snort and angry flare of nostrils, the hand that lurched out to grab me by the collar of my robes, pulling me forward, so that our faces were separated by only a couple of horts. He demanded to know what path it was that he should not stray from, what truth the Warrior was missing. He wanted to know the meaning of it all.

One of the guards had stepped forward, hand already on the hilt of his sword, but my hand urged him to stay back, to hold his place. Not only did I want no bloodshed, but there was something in the tone of his voice, a pleading to give him answers that he did not have.

I quickly explained as best I could, while moving my hand over his in an effort to get him to release me from his grasp. I saw it, the light, the realization in his eyes, the passion, all rolled into a gazing fury. I could feel his fingers loosening their hold on me, before his hand dropped altogether.

He rose and turned, moving beneath a white spring canopy of flowering branches arching over head, and stared upwards, once again lost in his own thoughts.

Needless to say I took this time to gather my cards and leave through another exit, though I will admit to looking back over my shoulder at him a time or two. He hadn’t moved, a statue still transfixed in his upward, bizarre gaze.

I went home, changed my clothing and washed my face, trying to reclaim some semblance of order. Julian was tucked in after two stories and several glasses of water, from which he only took sips, but nonetheless insisting on new glasses for each request. When he finally fell asleep, with Nonny left in charge, I headed for the arena.

I dislike crowds. I don’t like being touched by strangers and I certainly don’t like being pushed and pulled in a tidal wave of people. Just when I had finally made it to an empty seat near the steps, I noticed that Lucian was behind me, higher in the bleachers, speaking with Mare. Once again I fought the crazy wave of bodies, till at last I was able to take the seat at his side.

With the congratulations of Zeb, who had appeared sometime during the chaos, it was apparent that Mare was confused, so, I urged her closer, so I could be heard over the roaring din of the crowd, and explained that I was pregnant. I think I should have allowed her to stay.. confused, for it was obvious that she was hurt, which had not been my intention.

Moving forward, I’ve decided to keep the news of my pregnancy to myself.