The Criswell's Curse

“No... please, milady...!” Her pitiful sobs created a row of loud hiccups which prevented words to freely flow from within reason. Tears continued to moisturize her face, dripping straight onto the expensive dress. “Lady Ophelia, I am only loyal to you! I’ll do anything to prove it!”

Pleased with her answer, my hands pushed her back, making the maid fall straight to the floor. She coughed repeatedly, hoping to regain some sort of standing, some sort of pride. In the meantime, I rose my torso and removed a small dagger from my boots, cleanly wrapped in a pearly white cloth, pure and brilliant.

In a single movement, the item fell to her feet, causing her to look at me, confused. “In that case... cut your index finger. Show me how deep your loyalty lies.”

I couldn’t hear it, but I could feel it. The gasps from our audience, the faint whispers strolling in the wind, Mace’s frosty glare from the first-floor window. Without being there, my senses could feel it all – and so could she.

‘Ophelia! That’s too much! Please, stop this!’ Were the words Mace would yell at me, disregarding my decision yet again.

“You seem indecisive... Ivy.” Feeling the pressure increase, her soul shuddered. Her trembling right hand struggled to grab the dagger, fighting off the hesitation of committing a self-mutilation act, hoping to slither away going forth with such sinful act in front of God. “It seems you are indeed...”

Right before I finished my sentence, Ivy grabbed the sharp object with no hesitation. Her left hand captured a stick from the floor, leading it to her mouth. The maid’s teeth strongly carved their way onto the dead nature piece, her fingers completely stretched, the cold dagger from her right hand touching its victim. Her harsh, heavy breathing and faint tremble made the steel of the dagger glimmer against the sun’s rays.

Adrenaline rushed through my veins as the dagger moved back and forth. Her determined eyes focused on me, challenging me. She wanted me to trust her; she yearned for such emotion, for such security. Blood quickly began popping out, as if a pump of emotions forced such event to occur - unconsciously, a wide grin appeared on my lips. Has Ivy always been such an interesting character?

I kneeled in front of her; she frowned. The cut was getting deep. Soon it would reach the bones, displaying its pearliness for everyone to see. And yet, she glared at me, tears dripping from her eyes, saliva falling from the openings in her mouth, loud pained groans and a beautiful red carpet right beneath us.

“Stop.” I mumbled and like an obedient child, she did. Her arms froze into place, her breathing calmed.

My left hand touched her wet cheek while my right grabbed the dagger. In a single movement, I pulled it upward, and she gasped, in a mixture of pain and relief. A squirt of that bright red substance flew, mimicking a small fountain, before obeying to the rules of gravity, yet again.

“I believe you.” The item was thrown away onto the floor, several meters away from us before pulling out the saliva-filled stick from her mouth. “Ivy don’t forget what happened today. Do you understand?”

“Yes, milady...” She had muttered all her leftover strength to say these words. Cold sweat dripped from her pores, which mimicked chicken skin and her body trembled intensely, as if she was being frozen alive.

“Now go.” I rose back to my feet. “Get yourself treated.”

But she remained there, on the ground, watching me walk back to the mansion. Olivia and a few other maids quickly opened the door and rushed to her side, helping her up before heading to their rooms.

“Are you satisfied now?” Mace leaned right by the entrance door, his chocolate eyes judging me. “You know why she did it, Ophelia. Why didn’t you just let it go?”

“My Lord, since you are an avid lover of chess, answer me this.” I coldly smiled. “In a game, when a player loses their queen, they usually surrender. Might you know why?”

“That’s got nothing to do with this...” Seeing how my figure started to walk away, he sighed, giving into my request. “Fine. The queen is the second most important piece of the board, without her there’s not much you can do.”

“And why is that?”

“Because she is not bound by any rules, she can move freely while taking the opponent’s pieces.” Slowly walking back towards my chambers, Mace followed, blabbing about his extensive knowledge of the game. “If a player loses their queen, their oppression is over, and their moves are counted. It is highly liked they will lose.”

“Then wouldn’t you say one should play carefully with the queen?”

His feet stopped in place, his eyes widened, a dumbfounded expression resting on his face. Yes, now he had understood my reasoning, my own personal goal.

This whole charade had been a threat to all of them. Words of my actions would soon spread among the servants, eventually reaching Terrel’s curious ears. This had been a power display, a contest to show who was the actual threat to their own lives – the maiden they served or the man who requested their presence.

Reality wasn’t a game of chess. One can’t just give up a pawn and replace it with the taken queen, as death rules absolute over this realm. And yet, here I stood - alive after death, anywhere yet everywhere, somewhere in between. The king is but a foolish piece, bound to his solitude, relying on his people’s sacrifices to survive. But his wife controls the board, controls the game, one might even say, she controls the throne.

Now everyone knew. Terrel’s influence was limited, bound to his quarters; mine, however, was everywhere I wished it to be. And God knew how much these people yearned for such a figure, for a true king to rely their faith upon, for a rightful villain who’d fulfill all their ambitious fantasies.