Tish had changed into her ceremonial attire, which was complicated, white, and had an unnecessary number of ribbons. Rudra could never understand why she loved wearing it. But at least she looked like she had cleaned up.
Still, she looked more haggard than Nayan did in her bloodied armour.
She stared at Rudra for so long without blinking that he instinctively threw a blanket over the broken chains. Her eyes drifted towards the bundle of blanket as if she could see straight through it.
"You need not try escaping," she said flatly. "Your father, the High King of Partha, contacted us a while ago."
Nayan cussed under her breath. But Tish didn't look away from Rudra.
The silence stretched on so long that Rudra grew uncomfortable.
Then Tish finally spoke. "Why are you here?"
It was the easiest question to answer. "For you," Rudra said. "I came for you."
Tish took a step towards him. "Cut the nonsense! You kicked me out!"
Rudra sighed. "A mistake I am willing to own—"
"You said I wasn't good enough for you because of my poor lineage!" she snapped.
"Well, having a stableboy for a father and a maid for a mother isn't the best lineage, darling," Rudra chuckled. "You do have a poor lineage. Where's the lie in that?"
Tish's face became unreadable. Nayan threw herself in front of Rudra. "He hit his head!" she blurted out.
"Step aside," said Tish, the words coming out as if she had chewed them and was now spitting them out. "He may have the protection of his tyrant father, but you don't! Nobody is paying to keep you alive!"
"If he dies in my presence, I'll have to answer to the High King!" Nayan shrieked. "How about you formalise his execution, so I can pretend I had no way to stop him from getting killed for his war crimes?"
Tish's hands visibly shook. Her hair began to lift as if it had suddenly forgotten the concept of gravity. Her golden eyes grew brighter and brighter until looking directly into them became impossible.
"Now, now," Rudra said in a soothing voice, trying to calm the Saintess of Belovia. "We can't forget that my father paid a hefty sum to keep both of us alive, can we?"
Tish froze for a second and then said, "But he didn't pay anything to stop me from cutting off a limb or two, did he?"
Nayan yelped and lunged behind Rudra. "Just take him! Kill him! He's been a horrible master!" she said, very helpfully. "Just don't kill me. I have a wife!"
Rudra closed his eyes. Honestly? Dying at the hands of the girl he had intended to marry wasn't the worst of fates.
"Teresa!"
The blinding holy light vanished. Rudra cracked one eye open to see the Saintess being tackled by a man. A MAN?!
Before he knew it, he was moving. "How dare you lay your filthy fingers on her!" Rudra seized the man by the collar, tore him off Tish, and threw him against the wall. "I will pluck them out. One by one. And shove them down your throat so deep—"
It was then that he saw, truly saw, who the man was. It was the one who had stood on the wall beside Tish.
"You! I know you!" He shook the man like a rag doll, even though the movement made his shoulder scream in pain.
"Rudra!" Tish snarled. "Leave him!" She still sounded angry, but the anger was now mixed with fear. Fear for this pathetic man, who probably didn't weigh more than Rudra's sword. It didn't make Rudra let go. It only made him want to strangle the man faster.
"Let him, Teresa!" the man choked out. "I am not afraid of him. I will never be afraid of him."
Rudra froze. He looked away from Tish to stare at the creature hanging from his fist. The man's eyes were pitch black, full of hatred and anger, darker even than Tish's.
Horrified, Rudra realised this man wasn't just the one Tish had chosen over him.
It was him.
"It's... it's you!" he uttered, shocked. "You're him!"
The man smiled. "Yes, I'm the man Tish chose over—" He couldn't finish his sentence, because Rudra's grip tightened around his neck.
"Rudra—" Nayan warned.
But Rudra didn't care. "The one with the blessings of seven gods, the one who found the Sword of Mamon," he whispered. "You're the one who killed me. Or... will kill me."
He felt Nayan step behind him. "Dramatic," said the Commander dryly. "Both of us know that puny arrow couldn't have killed you. It barely lodged itself." She tried to throw Rudra off balance, pressing a foot against the back of his knee and hooking her arms under his armpits and over his shoulders like the straps of a backpack. Then she gave a sharp pull.
But Rudra didn't even budge. He stared at the man before him, though his eyes were looking through him, through the wall, to the events from his dreams, or prophecies.
He recalled standing atop a burning hill, with this man pointing a sword at his heart, and not just any sword, but the Sword of Mamon...
And the man had said the very same words.
I am not afraid of him. I will never be afraid of him.
"Right. You're the hero," Rudra laughed, an utterly mirthless laugh. "Hero of the people!" He grinned. "The one who takes down the big bad dragon!"
Unconsciously, he must have tightened his grip, because the man's eyes bulged and his tongue stuck out.
"Rudra!" Tish's voice shook.
"He hit his head!" Nayan said uselessly. "Probably!" She was whimpering like a puppy. "Don't get enraged, Saintess!"
Nayan gave another violent pull, almost dislodging Rudra. Almost.
"Leave him!" Tish barked.
But Rudra couldn't just leave him. This was his future killer, his nightmare, the thief who had stolen Tish and would eventually steal his life. "But he finds the—"
"Ten seconds," Tish said, her voice still shaking. "If you don't leave him, I'll kill you. I don't care about the Partha King. I don't care about the Royal Court. I. Will. Kill. You."
Rudra tore his gaze from the man and glared at Tish. "But he killed me!" he snapped. "He found the fucking sword and—"
"If all it takes is finding the fucking sword, then I'll kill you too!" Tish cut in.
The sheer, unadulterated hatred was so shocking coming from Tish that it pierced Rudra more sharply than any arrow.
His grip loosened, and the black-haired man fell. But Rudra couldn't look away from Tish, even though it hurt to see her.
"You don't mean it," he said, his voice coming out flat.
But Tish didn't waver. Her face was pale with rage, her lips curled in disgust, an expression so foreign to Rudra that it felt as if he were still asleep.
"I am a Saintess, Prince of Partha," Tish said quietly. "I usually pray for people's well-being, their health, their prosperity... their lives. But you are the only person whose death I have prayed so hard for!"
Rudra didn't answer. He couldn't.
"You are the only person I wish to see die a slow, miserable death!"