Laugh and grind.

Before the screams interrupted, before the men in black came to them, Larkin was smiling at Stelon, stroking the back of her hand as he said, “Don’t cry, that was the past. You belong here now.”

And he watched as she wiped her tears away, entranced by the violet petals in her eyes, the redness around them and her cheeks from tears and shame.

When the screams reached their ears, Larkin stood with Stelon, eyes narrowing as it pulled him out of the trance. His vision blurred and his head was filled with a sudden pounding as he became dizzy. Yet he did not sit back down, or let this be obvious. The screams shot a feeling through him, one he never recalled feeling before the night of the ball, of dread and worry. But the men in black were there by his side in seconds, and others that not even he had known were present went to investigate.

“What’s happening?” Stelon asked, her hand tightening around Larkin’s. He put his arm around her shoulder, giving her arm a squeeze.

“They will find out,” he said, “No harm will come to you.”

All he wanted was peace for himself, some time to think, to gather his thoughts and unwind. But it was foolish to believe there would be no attempts to sabotage his new objectives. Thus his new, improved Guardians. If the screaming was from what he expected, it meant that someone in his circle was not loyal. It meant he had more weeding to do, and though his first feelings to this were displeasure, he would, later on, look forward to this and welcome the unloyal to test him, test to see how weak he really was.

He looked to his side, down at Stelon as she stared on through the trees, scared but not tense. Trust. And what did they think of this? What would they think of him removing his own status as Governor, and having a criminal on his arm as company? They would think he was losing his mind. He smiled. Let them, he thought, and let them see how wrong they are. Her trust has been so easy to gain. It was as if he had not even tried. But why was she here with him, why did she matter…

… she didn’t.

Not really. He ought to occupy his mind with others things, important things. He did not really believe that Tic would come for her, or that the boy even knew she was his captive, but he wanted to believe it. He could not reason with himself. He did not know why he did these things, or why he wanted to curl Stelon’s hair around his bare fingers, gloves removed. He couldn’t understand why her eyes were purple, and sometimes were not. Perhaps, he thought again, I am losing some of my mind.

It was not even minutes before one of the Guardians returned and whispered something into his ear. Nothing. It was nothing. The servants had a scare; a ghost, the ghost of who, of the sorceress? He wanted to laugh and grind his teeth and pinch the bridge of his nose, as if this would stop him from being angry at having to feel the way he did for nothing. Because of superstitious, simple minded peasants. Larkin did none of this, and his face remained placid, and though he wanted to sit back down to stop the pounding in his head, he did not and they escorted him and Stelon out of the garden.