It wasn’t Valerius; it was the guards.
He was expecting the leash, but they wielded none.
Instead, they came in with a big jar filled with water.
They dragged him across the floor and restrained his hands behind his back to his feet.
Armin knelt in fear, his head bent to the floor as he watched their movements in terror.
They placed the big jar in front of him.
Armin’s breath hitched as he panicked, realizing what they intended to do with him.
He tried to back away, but he landed on his side.
One of the guards lifted him and placed him back into position.
He looked up and tried to beg them, but it fell on deaf ears.
They placed black tape over his mouth, muffling his voice.
The other guard crouched low near him, pulled his hair down tightly, and lifted up his face.
“Who said you could talk back to your mistress?” he howled at him.
Armin muffled a response, his eyes stretching wide open in visible pain.
The guard cared less as he tugged his hair harder.
Armin gave a muffled scream.
“I asked you a question!” the guard howled and shoved Armin’s face into the jar full of water for several seconds.
Armin thrashed in panic and from a loss of air.
The guard pulled him up to gasp for air and lifted his face.
He stared at the boy with ragged breath.
“Now, you can’t talk?” He shoved his head back under.
This time it was deeper than the last, and he held it longer as Armin thrashed harder for dear life, struggling for air.
He pulled him back up again and looked him in the face.
Armin dragged in a long, rasping breath.
“I heard you go around kissing people?” He grinned wickedly and leaned closer to Armin’s face.
“Can I get a kiss too?”
Armin tried to pull his face away, but the guard grabbed his hair harder.
He licked the boy’s wet face.
Armin snapped back his head in disgust as the guards shrieked out together in laughter.
The guard let go of his hair and stepped back as he laughed even harder.
The other guard stepped forward and, without warning, kicked the boy hard in the stomach with his heavy boot.
Armin cried out in muffled pain and landed on the ground.
The guard seemed to enjoy his plight and kicked him harder.
It went on, each blow more painful than the last, until he couldn’t cry anymore.
His ribs hurt, and every intake of air felt excruciatingly painful.
His sight became blurry, and he couldn’t understand why his eyes were closing.
His eyes flutter, fighting to stay awake but all he could now hear was deafening silence.
Armin woke up to the beeping sound of the heartbeat monitor and the overwhelming smell of antiseptic.
He opened his eyes slowly, and everywhere looked white—the white ceiling and walls, the curtains, the drapes, and even his garment.
Fear seized him at once.
Was he dead?
He started crying.
The guards had beaten him to death, and now he was lying in the morgue all alone.
He tried to prop himself up against the pillows to get a better look around.
A sharp pain struck him from inside.
His breath hitched.
He winced sharply, his eyes closing as his hand flew to the bottom of his rib cage, pressing hard against his upper stomach.
He gently lay back on the bed.
He looked around the room and realized he was in a hospital.
Also, what was with the whole room being covered in pink flowers—roses, tulips, and peonies?
What a hideous sight!
Armin hissed.
“You are awake!” He turned his neck toward the voice.
Standing there, she looked cheerful, like she wasn’t the one who had ordered the guards to wreck him last night.
He turned his face away from her.
“Don’t be like that, sweet kitten.” She walked to his bed and sat beside him.
“I’ve been by your side all this while you were out.
Don’t treat me coldly now that you’re awake.”
Armin refused to turn around.
“Do we want to talk about whose fault it is?”
“It’s obviously yours.
If you hadn’t misbehaved, none of this would have happened.
No?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He wasn’t in the mood to argue with a girl who considers it a life sentence to lose any argument.
Even on the verge of losing, she would use violence to make sure she won.
He hated it.
He hates violence, he hates pain, and now he is in pain again—even worse pain than what Delilah had dished out to him.
His rib cage was killing him.
“Don’t be silly, kitten.” She tapped the smart tablet on the bedside console and requested a nurse.
A few minutes later, a young male nurse walked in to examine Armin.
He asked him a few questions and prescribed him some drugs.
“You have to return every three days for a checkup.
Nothing is broken, fortunately.
Your scans are totally clear, but your costal cartilage is deeply bruised.
There’s not much blood supply there, so it will take its time healing, but you will be fine.” The nurse gently assured him.
“As for your activities, you will need to take a break or go on bed rest,” he continued, and glared hard at the princess.
“And this is a hospital, not a photo studio.
We are busy people here; we don’t need more casualties.” He looked at the balloons littered around and nudged his head at her.
Alicia’s jaw tightened, and her teeth clicked together in fury.
“Do you know who I am?” she questioned, feeling insulted by the nurse.
Her glossed-up lips curled slightly on one side into a sneer.
But the nurse just checked his wristwatch, smiled sweetly at Armin, and excused himself outside.
“What time did you get to do all this?
Were you already preparing them while I was being dunked and roughed up all through the night?”
“What night?
You’ve been out for two days, kitten,” she smiled.
“And I stayed by your side and ordered the nurses to keep you clean and warm.”
Armin stared at her in disbelief.
Was he supposed to feel grateful?
Was she a psychopath?
Oh heavens, she was worse.
She was way worse than Madam Margaret, and here he thought he had escaped a wicked woman, only to get entangled with an evil one.
He closed his eyes and pulled the sheet over his head.
“I brought you some food,” her voice called again.
He ignored her and remained under the sheet.
His mind went back to the whole event of yesterday—no, two days ago, since she said he was out for two days.
The tea party, the flower dinner, Valerius, her dad…
Hold on now!
Her dad had grievances with Valerius too.
Was it safe to ask her or—
“Get yourself out of that sheet.
You look like a corpse on an autopsy table; it’s giving me the icks.”
He removed the sheet and gently propped himself up into a sitting position.
She dished out the meal and served him.
“Do you want me to feed you, baby?” Her voice was all sweet again.
“Why are you acting nice?”
“Because I’m nice and you’re sick.”
“My hands are just fine and can handle holding a spoon.”
Why was she bringing food to the hospital anyway?
A princess like her shouldn’t be doing such things, and besides, there is hospital food.
“Why are you bringing me food?”
“Because I love you.”
Armin snorted loudly in amusement and regretted it instantly.
The abrupt spasm of his diaphragm slammed right into his bruised costal cartilage.
The laughter died mid-breath, turning into a strangled gasp.
He seized, his face contorting into a sharp glare of agony as he looked at her.
Her face remained the same, devoid of sympathy for his pain or amusement for the sick joke she was throwing around.
“I’m not in the mood for your games.” He snatched the soup from her hand and scooped a spoonful of the warm chicken consommé.
“Who said I was joking?” She looked at him with a dead-serious face.
His breath hitched.
He looked away from her and shoved the soup into his mouth.
“That’s why I don’t want you kissing people.”
“Valerius?”
“Don’t say his name.
I forbid it.”
He looked at her face again, observing.
She was gritting her teeth, and the malice was back in her eyes.
“What would you do if I was forced into a kiss?”
“I swear I will gut anyone who messes with my property.”
Armin nodded, feeling satisfied with her answer.
“Then start with your guard.
He forcefully kissed me last night.”
Her eyes flared.
“No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did.”
“I see.” She suddenly smiled at him.
Armin flinched back in fear.
She was indeed bipolar.
God help him!
“Eat your food, sweetheart.” She rubbed his head like he was a kitten.
He pulled his head away from her and took another scoop.
She was watching him intently, that evil smile still plastered on her face.
“You look scary with that smile,” he pointed out to her.
“I don’t.
This is my signature sweet smile.”
He scoffed.
“You look like a doll.”
“I know, I’m that pretty.” She smiled wider at the compliment.
“An Annabelle doll.”
The smile vanished and a frown immediately replaced it.
“Eat your food and shut your mouth, Armin!”