Chapter Twenty-Four
Eskil sat at the dining table eating the hot porridge Libelle had made, savoring the sweet taste of the honey she had drizzled on top. She was standing beside the fire, dishing out another bowl for Gaalin who sat across from him. Gaalin had been glaring at him since the drow first walked out of his own living quarters. Libelle set the bowl down in front of the manservant, handing him a small container filled with ground cinnamon.
She poured herself a bowl, however she placed a cover over the top of it. “I’ll be back by this evening.” She said.
Gaalin swallowed his mouthful, then stood and picked up a heavy sack from the table for her. “I don’t see why they're calling you back so soon, the king could have spoken to you while you were there yesterday.”
She stretched her neck, shrugging the sack over her shoulder. “The king wasn’t aware of Ingrid’s murder until we found her. He probably just has some questions about it, and it's my duty to answer them.”
Gaalin crossed his arms as he escorted her to the doorway, “You weren't involved in it though, so why would he need to question you?”
“I’m not sure, however I’ll do as the king asked and visit him at his manor.” She grumbled, wrapping a loaf of bread and slices of cheese in a cloth. “Will you open the door please?”
Gaalin pulled the double doors open, following her out into the yard where a wagon was readied for her departure. Two Edinburgh guards sat in the front, holding the reins of the exhausted horses. Her stallion tied to the rear of the cart snorting and stomping, pacing side to side while his heavy blanket fluttered around his body.
“Lady Libelle,” One called. “We should depart soon or we may be caught in the rain.” He pointed towards the rolling clouds that drifted off the mountain peaks.
“I know, I'm coming.” She turned back towards Gaalin. “I asked Eskil to do some chores for me today, please keep an eye on him. Keep him out of trouble.”
He rolled his eyes, his sarcastic comment silenced with her stare. “I’ll keep my eye on the beast.”
“Thank you.”
Libelle climbed into the back of the wagon, sitting down and crossing her legs while setting her steaming porridge in her lap. “I’ll see you this evening.” She opened her porridge and spooned a large amount into her mouth. Then broke her bread in quarters, offering her stallion a quarter of the wheat loaf.
Gaalin stood still watching the wagon depart, Libelle drowsily swaying in the cart as she ate her breakfast. The morning sun was already high in the sky, beaming down with its radiance and warmth. He scowled at it, turning and walking back towards the house.
He returned to the table and his bowl of porridge, enjoying each bite of it while staring at the stack of crates in the entry way. All of the supplies from the day earlier had been placed there, and they all needed to be put away. He looked at Eskil who was reading another book of Libelle’s, the devil becoming far too comfortable in his living situation.
“Libelle said she asked you to do some chores, what were they?” He asked.
Eskil didn't look up at him, instead his gaze continued to scan the pages while he pointed at the stack of crates. Gaalin stood up and walked towards the fire, helping himself to another serving of porridge.
“You should get started then, you may finish by late afternoon then.”
Eskil shrugged, turning the page. “Once I am done with this book I will.”
“Libelle asked you to do something that means you must do it.” Gaalin said returning to his chair.
“Yes, Libelle asked me to put those crates away. She did not however say it needed to be completed this exact moment.” He licked his finger, turning the page again.
“That’s ‘Lady Libelle’ to you scum.”
Eskil sighed, closing his book and standing up from the table. He walked towards the entry hall, however instead of picking up a crate he exited the house. The gray skin was frustrating him already, and it was not even past noon. With his incessant glaring, his rudeness, and his over-fondness of Libelle he was not impressed.
Eskil set his book down on the steps to the manor, stretching his arms and walking towards the stables. His gelding nickered at him and he smiled gently, plucking some clover from a small patch and handing it to the beast. Gently he pet its muzzle, “You're not an annoying creature like gray skin back there. You just want to be pet and fed, don't you?”
The gelding snorted, nipping his fingers for more treats.
“I suppose I should get started though huh? That is a massive amount of boxes, and all of them need to be gone through.” He sighed, stepping away from the stall door. “I’ll keep my eye out for a ripe apple, maybe give you one.”
The gelding snorted, lifting its head up and down while pawing at the ground. He chuckled, stretching his arms across his chest and groaning. He was tired still, lack of sleep draining his energy after a long night of love making. The images of her against his skin teased at his groin and he shook his head, clearing the scenes from his mind. The gelding extended its neck over the stall door, and he scratched its chin.
“I may wait a while before going back in there. Don't want gray skin thinking he can order me around do we?”
Eskil carried heavy chests into the cellar, one after another from the entryway, down the steep stairs, and into the darkness of the below-ground level. Libelle had purchased a variety of items, some he doubted she would ever need or use. Fresh fruits and vegetables, she would. However, rolls of fabric, raw ore, and strange alchemic ingredients. It was her decision though, and he rolled his eyes in amusement every time he came across a strange item.
The dark elf servant had closely watched him the entire afternoon, sitting in a comfortable chair while writing within a journal. He never lifted a finger to help, and as much as it annoyed him, he appreciated the lack of help more. Deciding he would have been more frustrated tripping around the man, versus being stared at for hours.
Eskil set down a heavy wood box of cleaned animal pelts, the furs most likely bound for some strange craft. He stretched his store back, wiping his brow with a sigh. The cellar was dark and mostly empty, used primarily as a storage room for excess supplies. He was impressed with Libelle’s wealth, however the tinge of anger he felt as to why she was so wealthy, kept nagging at him.
Libelle had made a living on the deaths of his kin for several years. Her kind despised his kin, and his looked down their snouts at her kin. If either side discovered their relationship, it was bound to be complicated. Whose family should they meet first? He snickered to himself.
Eskil turned and walked towards the steep stairs, carefully watching where he put his feet as each wood step groaned with his weight. He reached the last few stairs and looked up, his gaze locking with Gaalin’s.
The drow’s expression was livid, and with one swift swing of his arm he crashed a heavy wooden board across Eskil’s face, sending him reeling backwards. Eskil’s weight shifted backwards from the blow, his knees buckling as he fell back down the stairs. His impact with the ground came with a loud thud, his head was pounding and spinning.
He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees as Gaalin slowly stepped down the stairs towards him. His dark expression had changed into one much fiercer, his lips curled upwards in a sadistic smile and his eyes resembling a mad mans. He laughed like a maniac, clutching his abdomen as he hunched over.
Eskil growled, clutching his bleeding scalp. “Bastard, what do you think you’re doing?”
Gaalin’s laughter ceased all at once, and he quickly brought the wooden bat down against his shoulders. Eskil dropped back down to the ground with a curse.
Gaalin’s face beamed in delight. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”
His arms were tied behind his back around a thick wooden pillar that supported the weight of the floors above, the tightness of the sharp rope threatened to cut off his blood flow to his hands. His legs straightened out in front of him, his chin resting against his chest while his head spun. His mind was weary, and it took all of his focus to keep his mind where it belonged: within himself.
He didn't dare extend his thoughts to Libelle, his precious lifemate would undoubtedly rush to his side and put herself in danger to protect him. She couldn’t do that, he wouldn't let her. It was his job to protect his lifemate, and if keeping his pain silent from her protected her: he’d gladly do it.
Eskil bit his tongue, focusing on the sharp, piercing pain of his fangs while the drow kicked him in the ribs, laughing hysterically.
“Come now, prince. We’re not done playing yet, you can't pass out on me.”
Gaalin’s fingers twisted into Eskil’s hair and yanked his head back, exposing his bloody and bruised face.
“I have a lot planned for you, you monster.” Gaalin chuckled, “I can’t wait to break you, I’ll relish in your screams.”
The mad man thrusted a long blade into Eskil’s side, twisting its jagged edges around. Eskil flinched, but fought the pain, fighting the urge to roar out. He would not give him the pleasure of hearing him wail.
The blade withdrew and he exhaled, glaring up at the dark elf. “You’re the reason that girl is dead aren't you?”
Gaalin was surprised. “That girl? To me it looked like some beast got a hold of her,” He chuckled, “-a beast like you perhaps?”
Eskil bared his teeth, “I know damn well it was you gray skin, there's no sense in denying it. Your scent was all over her corpse.”
Gaalin stood up and shrugged, his wrist limply waving the dagger at his side. “Who’s going to believe that?”
He walked around the room scattered with boxes, lazily kicking his feet out in front of him as he stepped. “Want to know how this all looks?” He asked.
“A strange man shows up in the middle of the city. The man looks and acts like a beast, intimidating all those around him. He even threatened a model citizen in front of a guard, a guard who remembers seeing the horned man in the dark… alone… with a blonde haired lass.”
Eskil snarled, kicking his heel into Gaalin’s shin, causing the man to trip and almost fall. Gaalin cursed at him, taking his own foot and striking Eskil’s sternum, the audible crack from the impact stinging Eskil’s ears.
“That horned man must have taken that poor girl and raped her.” He kicked his ribs, fracturing the ones he collided with. “Then when she tried to run away, he attacked her further. Slicing her up like some wolf!”
This time Gaalin crouched down over Eskil and punched his cheek. “That horned man killed her, dumping her corpse for the buzzards to feast on.” Another series of hits struck Eskil’s body. “Then when a loyal, valiant and glorious servant of the dragon slayer returned home. He found that horned man, FUCKING HER! IN THE DIRT! LIKE A BEAST!”
Gaalin’s sense of reason was lost, “What did you do to her?! What spell do you have her under that you could have done that to her?! Libelle is mine! She is magnificent, beautiful, strong and wise! There’s no way a demon like you could have done that to her!”
He slumped down onto his knees. “What did you do to her?”
Eskil chuckled, rolling his tongue over his teeth before spitting out blood. “I didn't force her if that’s what you're implying.”
Gaalin growled.
“I thought I saw someone in the dark last night, did you enjoy the show?”
Eskil grunted when the man’s hands slammed around his throat. “Bastard!”
“Heh heh, she enjoyed everything I did to her last night, and I enjoyed everything she did to me. Willingly and lovingly.” He groaned when the hands around his throat tightened, but continued to speak with a forced voice. “I should kill you just knowing that you heard her sweet voice. Libelle is mine, my woman, and my mate. There is nothing you’re going to do to change that.”
Gaalin shouted, screaming at the top of his lungs as he wildly flailed at Eskil, striking him with his fists. His sanity was breaking, and Eskil was at his mercy.
Several of his bones were already broken, his belly sliced open and his organs more than likely suffering severe damage. He was bruised all over, deep stab wounds and long slashes covered his body; each bleeding slowly, draining his life essence.
“Libelle will never be yours.” He coughed out when Gaalin’s attacks paused.
The retainer stood, grabbing the burning iron rod from the cellars fireplace. He slowly turned around, the light from the fire casting his shadow over Eskil.
“She,” He raised the iron rod.
“-will never,” His eyes widening and the rest of his mind shattering. “-be yours!”