The knife slides home, deep into her belly. "Wh-what...? Simeon?"
The white haired man stands over her, watching her intently. Was he memorizing her face? The pain was making it difficult to focus.
"But...but why? Simeon...!"
A wide grin splits his face, twisting his features from the ones which had been so familiar to her. "The head of the Obsidians? The crow atop the roost? The one who killed your dear, dear father? It was me."
"It was me." The voice echoes in her pain-dulled brain, dripping with contempt. Amusement. Laughter.
"It was me." Her one true love.
"It was me." All of her pain, all of her loss, all because of him.
"Simeon..." She moans, falling to her knees. Her mind races, memories flashing by too quickly for her to focus. Her father watching her dance. Her father dying in his study. Simeon comforting her. Simeon reading poetry to her. Simeon walking away, her blood spattering the tattoo on his neck.
"Lady Primrose!" Strong hands catch her as she sinks to the ground, blackness overwhelming her.
Primrose groans, pulling herself out of bed. "Was it all a dream?" She winces, newly knitted muscles protesting every time she shifts positions. "No...not a dream. That nightmare was all too real."
The door clicks open and a slender blonde enters the room bearing a cloth covered tray. "There you are, Lady! Welcome back. Alfyn assured us it would take but a day or so, but you seemed content to lay about for longer than that. How do you feel?"
The dancer frowns slightly. "How long?"
Ophilia shifts her weight before setting the tray down at the end of the bed. "Three days since you...since you were hurt."
Three days. Simeon.
"I need to go, I need to find..." Primrose swings her legs around in an attempt to stand but the traitorous limbs abandon her as soon as her feet touch the ground. A white glow suffuses her companion briefly and a dull warmth envelopes her body leaving her feeling less pain but no more strength. Ophilia scowls at the dancer as she guides her firmly back into bed.
"Sleep. Rest. Healing. That's what you need to find, Lady. Enough of this, why you're as weak as a kitten."
A dingy room. A rasping voice. "Purr for me, kitten."
"NO!" she cries out, lunging at the shocked cleric. "No! Never again!" The dancer, half mad with rage and terror, curls her hand into a fist and swings wildly at her shocked companion. Memories claw unbidden to the surface of her exhausted mind and she lashes out, the beginning incantations of powerful dark magic tumbling from her lips.
"Lady Primrose!" Olberic's bellow lances through the room, stunning both women into silence. "Cease this at once!" Moving faster than one would expect from a man of his size the knight dashes across the room, inadvertently knocking the cleric to the ground as he puts his body in front of her to shield her from harm.
The dancer freezes, the remainder of the spell dying on her trembling lips. She shakes her head abruptly to clear the cobwebs and blinks at her companions as if just recognizing them, realizing for the first time exactly where she is and worse, what she was about to do. "Oh Ophilia...I'm so...I'm so..." An anguished sob escapes her and she breaks down entirely, a decade's worth of tears pouring out of her. The knight tentatively reaches towards the hysterical dancer and rests his hand on her shoulder. Instinctively she leans into him, wrapping her arms around him as the grief overwhelms her.
Ophilia gazes at Olberic and Primrose in astonishment. She gathers herself off the floor and slips out the door, leaving the pair alone.
Gradually Primrose gains control of herself and relinquishes her hold on the silent knight. "I...My apologies, Sir Olberic. I do not know what came over me." She scrubs at her eyes in irritation and runs her fingers through her long auburn hair.
Olberic rises, clearing his throat. "No need, Lady. You went through quite a terrible ordeal. One can hardly blame you for being distressed."
She chuckles softly. "Distressed. Indeed. Still, I am sorry that you had to see me-", she pauses, gazing down at her hands, "that you had to see that."
The knight turns towards her slowly, running his eyes over her before responding. "Lady Primrose, you are the very last person who needs to be apologizing. In truth, I should beg your forgiveness. I've long held out hope that there was a tender heart beneath the sharp edges of the world weary performer...though the circumstances are deeply regrettable, I hope you can forgive me for my momentary relief at catching a glimpse at the woman behind the facade."
She sits silently for a moment, her auburn head bowed. "I think that perhaps Sister Ophilia was correct, Sir Olberic. I need to rest."
He murmurs, "As you wish, my Lady," as he turns towards the door.
"Olberic?"
"Hm?"
"I don't..." She takes a deep breath, regaining a bit of her composure and lifting her head to gaze steadily into his concerned grey eyes. "I'd rather not be alone with my thoughts just yet. Please stay."