Augustus said nothing verbally, but his face grimaced and he glanced over, momentarily locking eyes with her, then darting away in a shameful gesture. It was enough to convey some meaning, that he had failed, that it was his fault, and he had no plan to get out of this.

“Say something!” ordered Giovannus. No response came and so he began a relentless pummeling. Blow after blow into Augustus’ belly.

“Wait! Stop!” she cried.

“Silence her!” One of Giovannus’ guards heeded his order, he grabbed her jaw and forced it up, a force so strong it lifted her head stretching her neck. Giovannus stopped his assault for a moment, then said, “Your place is not to speak. I want Augustus’ words. You are a mere prop for me to use to that end. Your place is to die in front of him so that I can watch his reaction.”

She squirmed her head as much as she could. But she was too well held still. She tried to scream, not from some rational desire but because of a deep instinct to survive, but all that came was a guttural noise that wouldn’t have resonated far.

“Maybe it is time for that. Augustus, would you like to see that? See me cut her throat from ear to ear?”

The guard in front of her moved to the side, still holding her jaw, exposing her stretched-out neck to the two brothers. Giovannus pulled out a knife from his cloak, brandishing it in front of Augustus’ face.

“I’ll speak… You won,” said Augustus. His words had a gurgle to it, interrupted by coughs as the blood got caught in his throat.

“Good, good. We can talk then, honestly, like brothers should. You have wronged me in so many ways. You see that don’t you?”

Augustus nodded without looking up. It was like a part of him had retreated inside himself, trying to shut out the world around him. To Marielle, it seemed like he had lost the fight inside himself.

“Speak. Don’t just nod. You see how you’ve wronged me, don’t you?”

“I killed your lover.”

In the frantic nature of the situation, Marielle went still. Same for the guards, their grips loosened lightly as they too were taken aback by Augustus’ words. As far as she knew, Giovannus’ wife was still alive, she had been at the party to the raid at Giovannus’ estate and left without suffering a single injury.

“You killed my lover twice over,” responded Giovannus.

This time even Augustus looked confused. He wasn’t surprised, he just tilted his head at looked at his brother in silence.

The grip around her wrists loosened again. The two guards were paying close attention too and were becoming absorbed in the details. This was intriguing gossip, after all, the secrets of the elite of Venocia were being laid bare before them, and they were salivating at the chance to devour them.

“Marcus Dayton betrayed our family. He needed to die, father demanded it. You must know this, right?” Augustus said it so quietly, she could barely hear him.

The guard in front of her turned his attention, looking at Augustus, straining his ear to listen. Finally, she had an opportunity to act. She lifted both her legs and slammed them up against the guard in front of her, aiming for his genitals. Her goal was to be sudden, all of her weight would suddenly be held up by the guard behind her, plus the force opposing her kick, adding to the weight for a moment. Just enough time to overwhelm his strength.

She shook herself free and fell to the ground with a thump. If she lingered on the pain, she might have felt it, but instead, she just acted. She went directly to the side of her bed without standing and in a swift motion grabbed her knife from under the bed, before pushing herself to her feet. To fight with that small knife against two large guards was pointless. They would regain themselves quickly enough and then she’d be captured again, or dead if they weren’t particularly interested in keeping her alive, and they likely weren’t.

She ran towards the open door. If she could just get far enough away to hide, maybe she could survive until the family guards arrived, if they were coming. They should have been there by now, but she had heard no sound of them. She almost made it to the doorway when a figure appeared before her. Everything was a blur. Maybe tears had formed in her eyes, or the intensity of the situation caused a kind of blindness, but details of things seemed to blend together. The man in front of her, a new person, an unknown, moved at her, so quickly all she could do was freeze. They collided and she was sent back, falling on her back onto the floor and sliding across it. Her knife still in hand. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to gasp for air, but it was useless.

She couldn’t hear, couldn’t see anything but a blur of the ceiling. But she could still feel, mostly a numb pain that she knew would double itself later once her heart rate calmed, if she lived, and she felt a strange warmness cover her stomach and legs, and a wetness on her bare skin. She twisted her head, managing to look down at her torse, it was red, all red.

This looming death didn’t feel at all like she thought it would. She took some shallow breathes in rapid succession. She had expected a sharp pain, like when she would cut her finger on a thorn, except magnified, but now she only felt the blunt pain from hitting the floor. She gripped at her stomach to find the wound, but it wasn’t easily found. Then more wetness, this time across her face. A thump to her side. An impact against the ground that reverberated through the ground enough to be felt against her back.

It was one of the Giovannus’ guards. He was on his belly. He tried to stand, pushing himself up, but he lost balance, crashing into the ground again. A puddle of blood grew from below him. Marielle pushed against the ground, sliding herself away from the man as he continued to struggle to get up, but he just toppled over again in place.

Her back pressed up against a wall. Something happened. She couldn’t explain the man dying in front of her unless maybe held had finally arrived. A commotion was occurring across the room, two figures engaged in battle. Clashes rang out, then one fell and only one remained standing.

The man that was beside her hardly moved at all anymore. She could see him breathing, but his limbs rested in place and the blood continued to accumulate around him. He was finished.

She needed to calm herself. She focused on her breathing, slowing it down slightly, taking in deeper and deeper breaths. Her vision cleared and she could, at last, see the current situation. The figure standing was Gillivan, she could tell by his black hair, build, and she could recognize the armour he word. He was bloodied, hunched over, and limping, holding a sword and staring not at her, but away, looking at the two other men in the room. She followed the gaze, seeing Giovannus holding Augustus, using his as a shield and hostage, his knife at Augustus’ throat.

Gillivan leaned against the bed. They were at an impasse. Neither dared to make a move. Gillivan couldn’t allow his master to die, and if Augustus was dead, Gillivan would make short work of Giovannus, clearly being the better fighter. But this state of inaction worked against Gillivan, he was injured. She could tell by the way he leaned, by the way his back heaved with each breathe. As time went on, he would continue to bleed, and eventually, Giovannus could slit Augustus’ throat then overpower Gillivan too.

She needed to act. But she was in the same position as Gillivan. She hid her knife behind her then placed it under her nightgown and inside her undergarment. The undergarment wasn’t so tight that it could hold the knife against her as she would have wanted, but it was held in place enough that it wouldn’t go anywhere.

She stood up, hands spread out in a gesture meant to calm nerves, and indicate she posed no threat. “Gillivan,” she said.

Gillivan didn’t turn his head even slightly. “Lady Marielle, I am glad you are alive. I hope you understand that I had to push you back then.”

“Of course, there was no need to even mention that.” She walked forward.

Giovannus had a snarl on his face, his cheeks twitched and his nose flared. His gaze shifted between her and Gillivan. He had one arm wrapped around Augustus’ torso, holding his arms against his body.

Augustus' eyes shifted too, looking at Marielle, but rather than looking to Gillivan, he would move his sight to the doorway. He wanted her to just run. She continued to walk forward.

“Run,” he said finally, “save yourself.”

“If I run you’ll die.”

Giovannus smiled. It wasn’t a friendly gesture at all because his hand was shaking and his face still twitching. “I assure you, Lady Marielle, no matter if you stay or leave, Augustus will die. I’ll make sure of that.”