The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 33: Beguiling Poison

Jessamyn didn’t want to give up yet. She punched and kicked hoping that would buy her time. Buy time for what? She didn’t know. Who did she expect to help her, she had no idea.

She had no one by her side who could help her. The little boy was the only reason she kept on fighting. If only she could protect him for a minute more, she’d be happy.

She did stop them from getting the blade for almost a minute. But then her punching and kicking annoyed the men. While the burly man held her hair, the other man held her hands and fisted his hands to punch her face.

Jessamyn gritted her teeth. She was a lady. She never got punched in the face. She probably would get disfigured. She was about to lose the one thing going for her—her beauty.

But that poor child might lose his life...

She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes as if that would reduce the brunt of the punch. She knew it wouldn’t stop with one punch. She might not be wearing the veil of a widow anymore, but she could feel the suffocation of the veil of death around her.

This must be it, she thought, not out of hopelessness but because a part of her yearned for it. The smiling face of her husband with his hand extended toward her caused an odd enthusiasm in her heart as she descended to darkness.

A chilling draft blew, bringing along with it the sound of a cawing raven and the hooves of a galloping horse.

Ravens had always reminded her of her home, and the hooves of horses, her husband, along with the scent of jasmine for her husband lovingly compared her to the flower.

To her disbelief, that chill wind blew away her husband’s soothing countenance from her thoughts, replacing it with the manifestation of a stoic man.

With a myna bird on his shoulder, he was on a galloping horse. Clad with darkness, he devoured everything around him as the stench of blood followed. With his hand extended toward her, he said, ’Come to me, My Songbird...’.

Her heart fell into her stomach for she frantically searched for her husband. She shut her eyes tighter. She shouldn’t be thinking of another man at her final moment.

But she was in for a rude awakening.

She couldn’t find what she was searching for as warm fluid splashed on her face. That thick metallic fluid dripped down her cheek and wetted her dress.

The next moment, she was able to breathe again. Her hair was free and so were her hands. She heard the screaming men scatter away pleading for their lives as if they had seen the devil.

She opened her eyes. Her attackers were holding their bloody hands and she saw one of them pulling off the dagger pierced in his hand.

Their eyes widened and she saw the growing shadow of the man on a horse. Naturally, she turned to her side. The sun blocked the man on the horse forming a halo around his head illuminating his silhouette like the paintings of gods but his aura was that of the immortal god of death waiting to suck out the soul of the mortals—menacing.

Although she couldn’t see his face clearly, she recognized him. The last time she saw him, she was in immeasurable pain.

But now...

Joar told her that he was menacing on the battlefield. That was the only time he mentioned him to her because she didn’t want to talk about Jerrick. Joar even joked that Jerrick probably got the title because the King was scared to cross him.

It was inconceivable for her then to believe Joar’s words. Was Jerrick that menacing to frighten the king even? She only knew him as the petty boy who liked to tease her while hiding his true feelings.

Looking at him now, she could see the bloodlust in him. Along with that, there was another strong feeling that she couldn’t decipher.

Somehow, she drew parallels between this meeting and their first meeting. He saved her life today, but that day, he was just standing there, watching her with awe. Back then, she was a young lady, while he was a nobody. Today, she was a pariah while he was a man revered by an entire kingdom.

She had wondered. What urged me to bring him home with me that day? What would have happened had I never acted upon that urge?

She still didn’t know.

And today, looking at him, she felt another urge—to be with him.

It was almost identical to the same urge she had when she was younger. The history they had together should have taught her a lesson. She had rationalized that nothing good would come out of being with him. She couldn’t be with him for she belonged to Joar.

Despite all, that indomitable desire akin to a beguiling poison, entwined itself within her, firmly embedding its barbed tendrils in her wounded heart.

She looked at him, unwaveringly, her lips trembling for words to say. Isadora reported how carefully he looked after her when she was suffering. She could ignore that since she didn’t see it.

But she couldn’t ignore what happened moments ago. He saved her life. She also realized another thing—she might not want to die. Because she was glad, she was breathing.

Still seated on the stallion, Jerrick got closer to her. She saw his face, now darkened with a perilous scowl. He drew out his sword and she pressed her back on the dirty wall leaving way for the embodiment of death.

His eyes, now dark and void of the freshness of the usual green, landed on her.

"Your Grace," she said with a curtsy.

*Prick*

She felt a pain in her heart—the same pain she endured recently and didn’t want to endure again.

He turned his face. "Gah!" he commanded the horse and it moved to the side toward the pleading men. She bowed her head and took a deep breath.

Please... Not this pain... Please...

*Swish* *Swish*

She heard the sword cut through the air; followed by heavy thuds. Blood coursed through the crooks of the dirty pavement like crimson rivers winding through ancient, weathered channels, staining the rugged surface with its dark narrative and pooling around her feet.

She heard him putting the sword back in its sheath. She gulped feeling his glare on her. She was afraid to look at him for she was afraid of the pain. She fisted her hands.

One thing was sure, she got that pain only around him. She knew nothing more.

"Scared of little blood?" Jerrick asked. His voice might have gotten deeper than she remembered, but the playfulness in his tone still remained.

"No," she refuted. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Why would she care for the death of those lowlifes? She was never a lady who fainted at the sight of blood.

"Look up!" he commanded.

Jessamyn fisted her hands tighter.

Ah, the pain...