Aubade

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The forest held the sanctuary of a thousand moons. Targets built of wood lined the tops of trees in a clear line, as did the ones on the forest floor. The dark branches appeared as if to extend upward for eternity. A gilded light moved along the leaves, offering few patches of sunlight within the cool darkness.

The knife flew from her hand, landing just beside the center of the target. She clenched her jaw in frustration, focusing her energy on the target, yet missed once more. The forest was her sanctuary, hidden far from the palace. As the servants and royals within the castle were busy with preparations for the Autumnal Banquet, Ilaria had found solace amongst the towering oaks, far from the castle. She inhaled deeply and exhaled, loosening her muscles, refocusing on the target, watching as it flew from her hand, landing in the very center.
A slight crunch of twigs caused Ilaria to spin, immediately tensing, facing her body towards the noise. She sighed in relief, for it was only a dove who had landed upon the ground. An arrow suddenly whizzed by her ear, masked assailants dropping from the branches of the trees. She removed the knife she had tucked in her belt, clutching it tightly in her hand. The metal hilt dug into the palms of her hands, as she turned, running. As she passed the blur of the forest, more attackers seemed to be appearing, and only four knives remained at her disposal. She jumped over roots, ducking under branches, but the forest appeared endless no matter how far she ran. An arrow grazed her shoulder and she hissed, trying her hardest to maintain her rapid pace. Another whizzed by, landing in her shoulder, not too far from the previous wound. Slight panic started to arise within Ilaria, but she shoved it far beneath, focused entirely on her survival. Her adrenaline pumped, numbing her pain, as she ran towards the clearing. It opened into a deliciously green meadow, delicate flowers sprouting through the tall grass. Her eyes searched the field, landing on a yellow manor, just yards short of where she stood. She dared not look, in fear of being slowed. Her hands shook as adrenaline faded, a searing pain rushing through her body.

The muscles in her legs burned with the effort of running, trembling and testing the limits of her strength. She spun once she had reached the path to the manor. A few stragglers had followed her, three at the most. Her knife flew through the air, landing in the chest of one of the assassins. The other two advanced, both bows pointed towards her. She quickly glanced at both of them, throwing knives with her weakened hand, praying it landed. Her eyes shut in anticipation, and her muscles relaxed, fully prepared to welcome Death, yet the final blow never reached her. She was bruised and bloody, her rich, silky clothing in absolute tatters, hardly even resembling a royal. Her tiara had been lost somewhere in the forest, however it was the least of her concerns. The arrow in her shoulder was deeply lodged, and bled profusely. She had cuts and gashes all across her face, abdomen and legs. Gritting her teeth, she began to tug at the arrow lodged in her shoulder.

"Don't do that." A voice spoke, advancing towards Ilaria. Her eyes were filled with agony, welling with tears as she pulled an arrowhead from her shoulder. She swore under her breath, feeling a dampness slowly drop down her cheeks. She cried silently as blood traveled down her arm, dripping from her fingertips. He ripped the corner of his shirt, wrapping it tightly around her shoulder, applying gentle pressure.

"You, again," she murmured, with. a watery gaze.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, ignoring her comment.

"No, I'm just upset for another reason. Of course it hurts! What sort of a moronic question is that?" She snapped, pain searing through her arm. She snatched arm away from his grasp, limping in the direction of the castle.

He jogged, stopping just in front of her, towering over Ilaria. He panted softly, and the smell of evergreens and pines slowly entered her nose. She stared up at him, defiant. Her brows were tightly knit together, eyes blazing with pain.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" She snapped, attempting to sidestep him, but failing as he blocked her again. He rolled his eyes.

"You're clearly injured. You really think walking back to the palace is a smart choice?" She scoffed.

Within moments, his knees are knocked out from under him, hands twisted behind his back. He grunted in discomfort. Ilaria hissed in pain, forcing herself to twist his hands while her shoulder burned, a faint crimson making through the blue rag.

"You." She spat, and he sighed.

"Yes, princess?" He took a sharp blow to the side of his abdomen, as he winced in pain. He swore under his breath, pushing her off quickly, and brushing twigs from his jacket. He stepped towards her, and she raised her fist, stopping him in his tracks.

"You're injured. Don't be thick and try to fight me-" She swung her arm, but he caught her fist. Frustrated, she kicked his shin, smirking as he winced in pain. He dodged, and blocked, as she kicked and punched and slapped and attempted to leave a mark on his irritatingly smooth skin. She swung her arm, blood soaking through the blue rag, about to swing another punch, falling to the ground, coughing. She spat into the dried grass, thick scarlet blood dripping from her lips. Her chest felt as though a hole had been burned straight through it, and breathing became an impossible task. She pushed herself to her feet, slowly, filled with large tremors. The world spun before her eyes, sparks flying in and out of her vision.

"Poison," She spat, hoarsely, nearly falling flat on her face, but bracing herself on his forearms. He stared at her for a moment, before gently grasping her waist and helping her down the dried, yellow hill.

"Leave me be." She whispered, her limbs growing as heavy as lead. He scoffed in disbelief, leading to her a small hut, close to another thicket of woods. Her eyes fluttered, struggling to stay awake. Her limbs ached, her body ached and her shoulder felt as though it was being singed with a fiery iron and was repeatedly burning her shoulder. Beads of a cold sweat appeared on her forehead as her eyes fell shut, a crushing weight appearing on her shoulders. She collapsed in the grass, life slowly leaving her body.

"Shit," Zahir murmured, lifting her carefully, sprinting the distance to his home.

"Don't die, don't die, don't die. Please. Please don't die." He murmured, throwing up on the door of his hut.