THE ALPHA’S ADDICTION

Emma paced outside the door of the inner courts, getting impatient by the passing second. At the other side was Prescott; he was seated calmly on a bench, staring at her prancing movements with tired but amused eyes, not understanding she was this jumpy, after all, the Queen had sent for them quite alright. Also, he was sure that the boy, whoever he was that had her tied in knots, would be having his party by late evening. He had mentioned this to her on more than one occasion, but his words had fallen on deaf eyes ever since she had woken from her slumber. Was she in love with the boy that much?

Emma glared at Pintel, Zipfarah’s main guard for the umpteenth time. But the elf was unbothered, unfazed by her glares which had been coming hot and fast for some time now. She was tempted to zoom past him as before, but for the fact that she didn’t want to upset the queen who had escaped a major attack of poisoning. From what she had heard from Prescott and the twin girls, the poison was its fast. The witches, including their healer, hadn’t seen one of its fashions before, and that’s why they had given up hope on their benevolent queen. They considered her healing and fast recovery a miracle. She could still remember the awe and reverence that had flowed from the lips of Leila as the little girl had talked about it. It would be fair to say that the instantaneous strange healing of the queen had earned her more respect and influencing power. Who would want to be on the wrong side of someone so powerful? She was also sure that whomever who had been behind the attack was gnashing his or her teeth in anger and fear too, since what had seemed to be their last resort and latest invention hadn’t worked.

Tired of pacing, she trudged to the bench where the squirrel was sitting, bracing herself for his taunts which she was hundred percent sure was coming her way; he wouldn’t let the opportunity to tease her slip away.

“Tired already? I thought you were a soldier on duty? Wouldn’t the captain be angry with you for resting at such a critical time?” Prescott asked with a straight face(though his eyes were dancing with amusement and mischief), not even waiting for Emma’s buttocks to touch the bench.

Emma scoffed, having already envisioned the jabs.

She kept mute, not saying a word, depositing her weight on the wooden bench.

“Why call us out when she isn’t free yet? Huh?” She mused, knowing that the squirrel would hear her words. Why won’t he? He could even communicate with her telepathically.

“Something must have come up. Be patient with her, will you?” Prescott requested, resting his hand on Emma’s, his eyes now devoid of mischief, pleading with her to understand the situation, and trust the queen.

Emma sighed, and nodded. Ten more minutes then. That will do right? She thought, resting her head against the wall, deciding to wait, hoping that she could wait.

They stayed that way for exactly twenty minutes, without talking to each other, each left to their respective thoughts, before Zipfarah called them in, through Pintel.

“She sends for you two.” Pintel declared, his sharp eyes resting on Emmma who exhaled out in relief.

“Finally…” She muttered, standing up from the bench.

Walking side by side with Prescott, they entered into the inner courts, and then through it, until they got to the invisible door which Prescott waved their way through, an act that amazed Emma.

Which idiot had dared to tamper with such a powerful woman?

She pitied the culprit if he or she was ever found.

“Emma, welcome.” Zipfarsh said, her voice surprisingly strong and agile.

Emma had thought that at least her voice would have been dry and patchy like someone that was still recovering from a plague-like poison.

“Thank you.” She got herself fast enough to reply.

“You are welcome. Come closer.” Zipfarah called on her, and she obliged, stepping closer to the queen who sat cross-legged on a high, large bed.

“Did you come to see me when I was battling with the poison? Did you touch me?” Zipfarah asked, wanting to confirm something. For even though she had been almost dead, she had been aware when a white heat had enveloped and slithered its way into her body. That white heat had cured her, inside out, giving her a fast recovery, and a larger strength if possible, as she felt stronger and healthier than she had ever felt since her second daughter had died. Tempest was her name, and she had been the only one capable of that certain type of healing. But she was dead. Zipfarah knew no other person that could perform such a healing ritual. Her mind had only rested on the only different option in her community, Emma. Had the girl unknowingly healed her?

But as for the poisoning, she already knew who was behind it. Who else, but her first daughter. She had felt and sensed the stench of her magic. And although she was disappointed and angry at the latter’s audacity, there was a tiny part of her that wished for the prodigal daughter to return. She was willing to forgive her, and accept her back into the fold even if the elders would be against it. But on her part, she still knew that it was wishful thinking. Leonarya was long gone. Only a miracle could bring her back to her senses.

“No, I didn’t.” Emma replied slowly, but honestly, a bit curious as to why the queen had asked her that question.

“Is that so? Okay then. Have a seat.” Zipfarah stated, pointing to the end of her bed.

Emma looked at the squirrel who told her to go ahead since the queen had requested it.

Taking her lips in, she trudged to the big bed, and sat on it, in a position opposite the queen’s.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.