In a black cloak, his hands crossed over his chest, his back gently resting on the wooden wall at the far end of the entertainment house, Barak Der Drache watched as the dancers gyrated around the men seated on the ground, chanting and clinking beer mugs. Discussing which dancer would make a fine bed partner for the night.
The music was loud, but the timbrels were particularly deafening. Everyone in the building seemed to be in a good mood. Everyone but himself.
His head and eyes lifted as the door to the house opened and closed. A dwarf had walked in. Barak dropped his head again. It wasn't the person he was waiting for tonight.
One of the dancers twisted and turned past him and he readjusted his cloak over his head.
Thugs, bandits, pirates and the scums of the earth in general were known to gather here... And he, a revered prince, heir to the greatest dragon kingdom was here.
Well, right now, he was not the crown prince. After all, he was presumed dead by all.
Because of her... Her betrayal. His fingers clenched and formed a tight menacing fist as he thought of her. Oh how badly he wished to wring her neck, that elven witch!
Just when he was starting to think that she hated him less, just when he was starting to think that there was redemption for all her previous acts.
Just when he was starting to think that she— if not love—at least liked his presence to an extent. She betrayed him. Now he was here because he had received information that she would be there tonight.
But Barak wondered what madness had driven her to agree to meet with anyone in a place like this. A place crawling with knaves and thieves. Why?
He knew the answer to that... To give out any more information she had about him and his people. To betray him even after death!
Then he wondered, could there be betrayal when there was never any mutual trust?
He always knew she hated him, she never tried to hide that fact. But maybe it was his foolishness, or perhaps he was under some elven spell she put on him, either way, he had fallen for her and although he knew he shouldn't have, he had put some amount of faith in her.
Some trust, some kind of hope that she would at least not hate him to the point of betraying him. And yet...
The little devil!
By all the demons in hell, he wished the information that had reached him was false. He wished she wouldn't come here tonight.
Because even now, the anger in him was immeasurable. He had no idea what he'd do to her if he laid his hands on her. He wanted to wrap his palms around her thin long neck and squeeze so hard that she wouldn't be able to let out a squeal.
But sweet heaven! He ached so badly. For as much as he wanted to hurt her, he also wished to do other things to her. Things that in no way or manner could be considered hurtful.
She was wicked. She had always been. More so now.
Why was he there? What for? To stop her from betraying him? To stop her from relaying more information to her lover? Or to catch his dear wife red-handed in the arms of another man.
Heavens! Just the thought of it was enough to make his entire system twist and turn with rage.
Please don't come. He said in his head, praying to all the gods, hoping she didn't come here tonight.
But at his prayer, the door opened again, and he lifted his head. And although she was in a leaf-green cloak that completely covered her face, he knew she had come.
The little witch piercing his heart. The molten silver that boiled inside his bones. The little spitfire... His little spitfire.
He'd recognize her even if she was wrapped completely in a potato sack, and the world was devoid of light. Because he knew her.
Every curve and contour.
He hissed and hissed a million times over, damn her.
She was such a fool! He couldn't help but think this way. What kind of fool comes to a place like this wearing an expensive cloak like that! She's like food for wolves! Such a pampered spoiled brat, till the very end!
Sometimes he wondered how someone so wicked could be so naive.
Her eyes swept round the place quickly as if searching for something. She wouldn't notice him since he was at the far end of the place, almost in the shadows.
As if finding what she was searching for, her head paused in a direction. Barak turned his head toward that same direction and saw a man standing on the first floor in a black cloak. The lights on that floor were dim so he couldn't see the man's face clearly. But he could easily guess who it was.
Briskly, she walked up the stairs and Barak's fist tightened even more as she walked into the open arms of the man!
Damn her! Damn her a million times over!! He'd make her pay. By all the gods and demons, he would surely make her pay for this.