060

060


Draco.

Draco was worried and ceaselessly paced the corridor outside Isolde’s chamber. He was waiting for the healers to come out and inform him about her condition.

Draco couldn’t believe the whirlwind of events that had happened in the past few days. He wasn’t expecting Isolde to poison him, but it happened.

Well, Draco should be mad at her for what she had done, but all he felt was worry and the hunger to hold her in his arms.

This had never happened to him before. He suddenly turned against Edrand, and Draco felt no ounce of guilt. Why should he when Edrand decided to go overboard by defying him? Even on his deathbed, Draco would want his people to still implement his laws.

His mind flashed back to the scene in the courtroom. He couldn’t believe his eyes then, watching Isolde as she was being abused by those males.

They tried to take turns on her! And Edrand was watching. He basked in the scene.

No, Draco vowed never to forgive that so easily. He’d ensure the male suffered until Draco was satisfied.

He heard some murmurings in the room and wondered what was happening. Draco tried to take a step in there but held himself back just as the door opened and the healers, the best in Abbator, stepped out.

“How is she?” He yipped and bounced into the doorway, stretching his gaze across the wide room to where Isolde lay on the bed.

“My lord,” The healers bowed, trading looks amongst themselves, and then announced. “She will be fine, my lord.”

“Fine? Did she have any tear? Will her body repair?” His raspy, worried voice echoed across the hall.

“Certainly, my lord. But it may take a while.”

Draco lowered his gaze in bitterness. He huffed and nodded, dismissing the six healers. As they bounded down the hall, he walked into Isolde’s room, clicking the door shut behind him.

Silently, he approached her bed and loomed over her, staring down at her. He didn’t know how, but his eyes welled up.

Her face was battered. Her lips swollen.

Only one woman had pulled his heartstrings so fiercely like this, and it was Andriandita.

Why did Isolde remind him so much of her?

Slowly, he took a seat beside her and held her hand. Isolde’s fingers were clogged with dirt, and Draco made a mental note to order Roga to attend to it.

His gloved hand covered hers as he caressed her knuckle while looking into her face. Isolde was unconscious, and Draco was grateful because it allowed him to be vulnerable like he needed.

“I’ve fought it for so long. From the moment I met you. These feelings you arouse in me are just too much. Too heavy. But I can’t let you in, Isolde. I can’t let you waste under my curse,” His eyes brimmed harder the more he spoke. Draco’s heart was heavy. He needed to unload some things from it.

“I keep asking myself why. Why do I feel this strong attraction to you? Why do I crave something I can never have?” A dark, humorless chuckle made it past his lips. “the gods are brutal, ain’t they? Shoving you in my face, in my life when you can never be mine…”

Abruptly, he stood up and shoved his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as he panted. Then the tears clinging to his lashes began to slip down his cheeks.

“I want you, Isolde. I want you. I crave you…” He swallowed thickly. “But no, you can never be mine…”

Draco ground his teeth, hands squeezed into tight fists. He wanted to punch hard into something, but he decided against it. He couldn’t do anything that’d obstruct her rest. Not ever.

“Dracolian,” He froze at Alfos’s words.

Draco wasn’t aware when he came into the room. He was too lost in his world.

He straightened, eyes bloated from tears. It took him effort to allow himself this moment of vulnerability.

“You saved me,” He said to Alfos, his eyes pinned on Isolde’s still body on the bed.

Alfos shook his head, stepping further to Draco’s side. “I didn’t. She did…”

That shocked Draco, he speedily sent a look at Alfos. “She did?” He asked, voice gruff. His eyes gleamed.

The beta gave a small smile. Looking back at Isolde, he let out. “She told me about an elixir called a deathbane.”

A deathbane? Draco thought. To Alfos he asked, “How did she know about it?”

“I can’t say, Dracolian. What does it matter?”

Silence swept between them as both men watched Isolde. Her chest rising and falling in a stuttering manner.

“Why do you think she did it?” Draco broke the silence, making Alfos give him a long stare.

“What if she feels the same?”

“No, Alfos. It’s not right. I’ll only end up destroying her, and I can’t let that happen. Not on my watch. I guess she deserves better…” Draco trailed off, flicking a look at Alfos. “She deserves someone like you, Alfos. You’re an honorable man.”

Both men stared long at each other, wordlessly thinking and appraising each other.

Do I really deserve her? Alfos thought to himself.

He doubted he did. Not after what he did to her back at the Viper’s Mouth.

“I do not think I deserve her, Dracolian.” He smiled bitterly, huffing. “I’m not as honorable as you think I am. Sometimes, the most honorable people do the most horrible things.” He stepped forward and patted Draco on the shoulder. “She’s too perfect for me, my lord…”

Alfos whirled on his heel, preparing to leave only for Draco to say the word that sent his spine curling.

“I saw her, Alfos. I saw Dita.” He sighed. “I don’t know if it’s just my mind conjuring that, but she looked spectacular. Dita wants me to be happy, Alfos.”

Alfos turned and stared at Draco, rasping. “I guess it’s time you stop living in the guilt. My sister wants the best for you.”

Draco’s lips pursed. He stared back at Isolde and then back at Alfos.

“What do you think she’d look like if she was still here with us? If things were still normal like the way it used to be?”

For a moment, Alfos didn’t utter a word. His mind was saturated with thoughts. When he got a handful of them sorted out, he replied with his eyes pinned on Isolde.

“There’s only one thing I know, Dita would have been as perfect as her.”

Hearing that, Draco’s iridescent eyes glimmered, his feet staggered. He turned to look at Isolde some more, knowing Alfos was right.

Dita would have been as perfect as her. The woman he could never have no matter the passion burning inside him.

This time, it was Draco who aimed for the door as he shoulder-passed Alfos. As soon as he held his hand over the door handle, Draco said.

“Call her. Let her be here, close to her. Let her be the first person Isolde sees when she wakes up.”

With that, he exited the room, shutting the door.

Outside, Draco perched his head over the wall, sobbing as he punched it. Hard.

He had never hated his curse as much as he did now. He had never hated his father as much as he did now.

It wasn’t fair. Fate wasn’t fair.

TBC.