Four Suits (Book 1)

Day 38-3: Hotheaded

DAY 38-3: HOTHEADED

"Ro... are you okay?"

   The question tentatively leaves Leda's mouth. Ro remains in place, arms folded, eyelids glued shut. He doesn't move, or really hasn't since that herald staggered off in the direction of the palace.

   The air is stiff, difficult to move in. Orian worriedly gnaws his lips while Avel stands innocently, fiddling with Zaire.

   Eventually, he speaks, "I am fine." Standing as tall as possible, he strides forward. "We don't have a single moment to waste. We will return to Edaps as soon as we can."

   Leda follows him with her eyes. He doesn't sound different—just as callous as before. Though, the Ro she's become acquainted with isn't callous. He wouldn't brush aside something like this...

   "Ro—" Right as Leda opens her mouth, the impossible happens—he trips.

   He saves himself in the nick of time, hands positioned on the snow as a safe guard. Avel erupts into an unconfined fit of laughter, only to be silenced by a glare from Leda. Orian hobbles towards him seconds before she can.

   "Master Ro, are you all right?"

   "Ro," Leda asks.

   "I said I am fine." He brushes aside Leda's helping hand and hoists himself up on his own. Regardless, when he's up on his feet, he stumbles, akin to a newborn fawn attempting to gain balance. He flutters over the ice for a good period then bonks his forehead against a tree ahead. He tumbles over at that, back in the same situation as before.

   "Ro!"

   Avel's laughter grows hysterical. Arms wrapped around his abdomen, he doubles over.

Leda crouches by his side and her stomach twists. Overflowing from Ro's eyes and streaming down his pale cheeks are tears. He's crying. The proudest man she's ever encountered is crying before her now.

   "Ro..."

  "Just fetch my sword," he tells her through gritted teeth.

  "Why?"

   "So I can kill myself right here." His declaration pierces through her. His tears don't stop. Rather, they fall relentlessly. He hitches a breath but his amber eyes are clouded by scores of tears and heartbreak. "I'm a failure of a Spade before a prince. I don't deserve to be breathing this air. We were so close. So close and yet..."

   "Whoa, whoa. Hold up, Ronan III," Avel interjects, his snickers subduing. "You sure you want your sword? Mine has a duller blade so if you'd like to really suffer I can—"

   "Avel!" Leda snaps.

   He raises his arms in surrender, but Ro has already lurched to his feet and seized him by the collar. Waterworks brim in his eyelids as he jostles him back and forth. "D-do you w-want to go? I-I'm giving you this one chance so you b-better kill me as painfully as you can—"

   "Ro!" Leda shouts this time, smacking him upside the head. He recoils. This time, it's her who clasps him by the foil of his clothes, forcing his gaze to hers. "I'm not allowing you to kill yourself!"

   His features envelope with sorrow as he sniffles. He buries his face into his arm. "I-It's fine. That lovesick criminal's already agreed to—"

   "Avel isn't allowed to kill you either!" She tightens her grip, grounding her teeth against one another. "Ro, under no circumstances are you allowed to die."

He chokes back a sob. "If you cared about me you would let me."

"It's because I care about you I'm not letting you!"