George was worried about Patricia. Since he sent her to Calhoun's chamber, he hadn't seen her around again. He was wondering what Calhoun had done with her. He would have also asked him about her but Calhoun beat him to it. This was why he was in Calhoun's room at the moment and he was being questioned about Patricia's whereabouts.
"I haven't seen her for a while," Calhoun said. "I sent her to find out if the meal which Felix's wife prepared was still available."
"She never came back. I figured that perhaps she might have made a detour to your room."
George spluttered. "M..m..my room?"
"Mmhmm." Calhoun hummed, nodding. "I did hear some whispers from the servants. Did you think you could keep it hidden?"
"My king..." George said, unsure of what to say. He was so surprised that the king had figured his secret out.
"Come on," Calhoun said. "I made you my friend. Then you fall in love with my slave and you don't tell me."
"You know, I wondered why she delayed that night when I was being affected by the poison."
"I did hear the moans that spread around the castle in the dead of the night."
"There I was, dying, wondering who was getting laid while their king was probably about to breathe his last."
"Then I woke up to hear it was you," Calhoun said. "That leaves me to wonder if Tricia had intentionally poisoned me or perhaps she was instigated by someone else."
Calhoun's glare was piercing and George began to feel as if Calhoun could read his mind. He watched how Calhoun got up from his seat and walked slowly towards him. He was about to take a step back.
"Not even an inch, George." Calhoun threatened. The worst part about his threat was that he was smiling. That was even what made it too scary for George. How could the man be threatening him and still yet, he smiled so warmly at him?
Calhoun kept his glare on him, walking slowly towards him. When he reached where he was, he stopped, turning to the side.
"I wonder what would happen if I just snapped your neck."
"Perhaps people would say the king was wicked? Is it wicked?"
"Or perhaps people will sympathize with me, how my right-hand man betrayed me."
"How he instigated my slave to poison me because he probably saw me as a threat."
George coughed. "My king-"
"Shall he also infect me? He had lost all his respect so he would dare to cough out at me?" Calhoun demanded fiercely. His gaze had turned so fierce that he looked like he was about to morph into something far worse than a wolf of his size.
"Never my king, I was... I was only surprised." George said.
"Surprised? Shall you also call the king a liar?" Calhoun asked, smiling.
"Never," George swore solemnly.
Calhoun slipped his hand into his coat and took out a small knife. He raised it to George's face.
"Have it." He ordered. George was surprised. What was he supposed to do with the knife?
Slowly, he raised his hand and collected the knife from Calhoun, staring at it closely.
Staring at the knife in wonder, he asked, "My king, what shall I do with this?"
"Slit your throat," Calhoun replied. George gagged as he choked on his spit.
"My king?" He called for clarification. "Slit...m..m..my throat?"
"Yes, George. I wasn't capping, was I?" Calhoun asked. "Slit your throat, come on."
George stammered. "M...my king, I...I...I can't slit my throat."
"Then I will help you," Calhoun said and before George could process it, he snatched the knife from him. "Here."
Calhoun pushed the blade to his throat and moved it quickly. George could feel the cold metal cut through his skin and he began to lose blood. The wound closed up almost immediately and he coughed.
"See? It wasn't so hard," Calhoun said. He cleaned the knife with a small towel. "Now, do the same."
George took the knife from Calhoun. He knew that there was no escaping from the king. If he wanted you to do something, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, it must be done. He held the blade, wondering what had overcome the king.
Perhaps he could just do it and then he would heal and the king would allow him to go free.
He held the blade to his throat and Calhoun smirked.
"Go on," he urged. "I'm not stopping you."
George could feel the cold metal that seemed warmer than it was before, pushing into his skin. Before he could rethink his decision, Calhoun held his hand and pushed the blade further into his skin.
"Move it." He ordered. "Or let me just help you."
With a smirk plastered on his face, he moved George's hand to the left.
The wound cut open again and started gushing out blood. Calhoun smiled wickedly. George smiled, handing the blade back to Calhoun. He was waiting for the blood to cease.
Calhoun did not accept the knife, he watched him, smirking evilly. George felt that something was wrong so he began to panic.
He put his hand to his throat, and the knife pierced his upper jaw. Yelling in pain, he dropped the knife to the floor.
He fell to his knees, he looked up to find Calhoun standing over him, smirking down at him.
"M...my king." He groaned. "What did you do?"
"I paid you back," Calhoun said. "When I figured things out, I knew that you would have a backup plan. I had to do something."
"I cannot alert my enemies as I do not know them."
"Patricia was the one who told me about the small vial you claimed was an ingredient that you placed by the table when she was cooking."
"Well, I might have just soaked that towel in it and then used it to wipe the blade which you used to cut yourself."
"I didn't kill you, George," Calhoun said. "You did. You killed yourself. You took the knife and slit your throat, you believed the king."
"You gullible fool." Calhoun cursed. "When you die, say hi to my relatives for me."
George could feel life seeping out of him. Slowly, his vision darkened and then his eyes opened too quickly, his hands flew to his throat and he could feel that there was no wound.
Breathing in relief, he sat up in his bed. He could feel that his heart and his entire body were still living the dream. But why would the king suspect him and then kill him?
What happened to Patricia? He wondered. He had just planned to ask the king about Patricia when he fell asleep. Why did he fall asleep? He had never fallen asleep and had such a terrible dream.
He got up from his bed and walked to the window. There was a cold wind that blew across the Town. It would soon begin to snow. During the snow, werewolves were bound to war. Because the humans would be unable to fight so fiercely but the wolves enjoyed seeing the snow turn red.
Calhoun sat in his room, staring at Patricia who was tied to a small chair in his room, still unconscious. He wondered why the balm had such an effect on her. Why did she suddenly fall into this deep state of unconsciousness?
He was waiting for the first person to ask about her, that would be his first suspect.
Why would anybody be so close to Patricia to ask about her? Why would they even bother? For anyone to be bold enough to ask about her meant she meant something to them.
Calhoun smiled, shaking his legs softly. He was starting to feel hungry. He stood up and walked to the outer chamber. He turned to his open window. The room was chilly. He walked towards the window and he could see the fog in the air. It was too cold.
Calhoun smiled. "Is it about to snow? Was I asleep for that long?"
He chuckled. "Oh Diana, if you were here perhaps we could cuddle up in the cold and warm each other."
"Or perhaps you could just fan the fire while I recline in my bed, watching her take good care of me."
The banquet was set to happen in two days and he was too ready. The servants had been too busy, and he began to feel bad for them. He felt bad that they could finish the decorations and he would still not like it.
Then they would have to do it all over again. He chuckled. They could curse at him and complain and grumble. But yes, they would still do it and won't complain to his face.
"Perhaps I could just stroll out and see how well the designs are going." He muttered. He continued his walk out of his chamber and down the hallway. Everywhere seemed too quiet for his liking. As much as he did like silence, he enjoyed the chaos. He loved the feeling of fighting spreading around.
Thinking about war, he began to smile. He wished he was around the time when Yara came to his pack, making a hella noise. He would have silenced him badly. In a cruel manner, because that would have been the only thing he could enjoy.
Cruel. Ruthless. Merciless. While listing his adjectives in his head, he came across two servants who were whispering in a hushed manner.
He continued strolling and didn't stop to listen. He could hear them clearly and he could deduce that one of them had stolen something and had been caught by the other. Rather than feeling sober, she was trying to make the other servant feel guilty and tempt her into joining her in her theft.
Calhoun smirked, he loved a thing like this. He arrived where they were and cleared his throat. The maids jumped in surprise when they saw him.
"Hello." Calhoun greeted, smirking evilly. The maids began to shiver. Fright was an understatement to describe what they truly felt.
"What are we whispering about?" Calhoun asked. He turned to the maid who had stolen.
"Did we take something that didn't belong to us?"
"N...no, my king." She stuttered. "I had lost it earlier and just happened to stumble upon it. Phoebe saw me take it and assumed it didn't belong to me."
"Did you know? Phoebe, don't you know how wrong it is to jump into assumptions?" Calhoun asked, turning to the other maid.
Phoebe's eyes were wide open and she began to cry. "my king, that's not true! The property which she stole, is a piece of jewelry and it belonged to ... It belonged to Diana. I had seen her wear it too many times before."
"Before she left, I noticed she didn't wear it for a few days. But ever since she left, I have only seen it with Mary. I assumed she might have something similar but since Diana had let me touch it, I did touch this now and it was the same, just the way Diana's felt, that's how this feels."
Calhoun turned sharply to glare at the maid. She began to shake in fright. She never knew that Phoebe could also recognize what it felt like and even knew the owner.
"My king, I swear-"
"Shut up." Calhoun hummed. "I hate hearing people swear when they lie."
Mary began to cry. "I didn't know-"
Calhoun grabbed her neck in a tight grip. "Where is the jewelry? Where is it?"
Mary brought it out of her pocket with shaky hands. She handed it to Calhoun. The man released her and threw her to the floor.
Mary rolled a few feet away, feeling her arm dislocated by the force she used to hit the floor. She cried in pain.
Calhoun stared at the small necklace in his hand. It seemed like silver that was coated in a marina. It wasn't gold but it had pretty Jade stones all around it. Staring at it, he tried to recollect the times he had her around.
He couldn't ever remember her wearing a necklace. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at Phoebe and then at Mary. One of them was lying, and one of them was afraid. This was an enigma.