Amelia was already growing exhausted of dealing with the prisoner before her, and she snapped her eyes to Antoine and rolled them. “Why must they always send us in here to waste our time?” She stood up from her crouched position with a groan and looked down to the man. “Why don’t you – “ 

The man jumped towards her, causing her to crash backwards into Antoine. “What – “ 

The feeling. The one from her dream. The sensation of a beast’s hand grazing her neck. A hand went up to touch it, but she only met her own skin, and goosebumps crawled up her spine and scattered across her skin. Antoine watched her intently as she shook her head and coughed. “I think we are done for now,” she announced with a false-sense of confidence. “I will be back for you, unnamed prisoner,” she bid farewell as she glared at the man on the floor, and after swiveling around, she left the room with Antoine without turning around until she heard the door close behind him.

“I,” she began as she looked to Antoine, “I need a bit of fresh air. Fill in the captain for me, please.” Amelia caught herself as she was about to lean in for a kiss just in time. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Once outside of the prison compound, her hands landed on her knees, and she began to breathe deeply as her mind replayed what she had felt inside of the man’s cell. Not only did the sensation of a hand haunt her, but as soon as she felt it, the room became [i]heavy[/i], as if the air inside was as thick as water that made her lungs burn as it cycled through. She stood up straight once more and gazed up into the overcast sky that loomed above the rolling green hills on the horizon before she felt collected enough to reenter. 

Antoine had beat her to it, though, and they nearly collided as he exited. “[i]Mon amour,[/i] what is that matter?” He asked quietly, scanning the area for other warriors before placing a hand on her shoulder. “You weren’t yourself in there.” 
She sighed and looked up to him. His voice saying the same nickname her father used to call her was bittersweet. “I just didn’t like that man. I will be fine.” She forced a smile. “Is there any update on the King’s health?”
Antoine nodded. “He is still very sick and has been instructed to stay in bed. They have not been able to find what is causing it.” His eyes narrowed. “You have been so concerned with him, Amelia. Is everything alright?” 
“Yes, yes,” she swallowed. “I just do not like the decisions the Queen has been making. Things were much calmer when he was well.”

Amelia had never divulged the truth of where she came from – not even her lover – for what had used to be multiple reasons, but they had all funneled into a singular, selfish one: to keep herself out of Lucia’s reach. Her usual nightmares involved the night she had caught her mother in bed with Gabriel, the terrible look in the man’s eyes as he watch her whip Amelia until she nearly slipped into unconsciousness, and how they continued their passion after she had been locked back in her room. Due to missing her father greatly and his withering health, she had accepted any mission that had gotten her inside the castle in hopes to see him once again, but the effort was proved to be futile. 

“I have to catch up on a few tasks,” she blurted out. 
“Okay. I shall see you later, [i]mon amour[/i],” he nodded. “Oh, I was reprimanded by the captain for not sleeping in my quarters. It looks as though you will be sleeping by yourself tonight.” 
Amelia frowned but ultimately nodded. “See you soon.” 

[center]*****[/center]

“We were able to find the knight that killed our men,” she announced to the captain. “He is no longer a threat.”
“Good,” the man nodded as he rubbed her chin. “Do you have anything on whatever band killed some of the livestock?” 
Amelia shook her head with furrowed brows. “No. Not yet. Antoine and I are still investigating.” 
“Ah, very well, I – “ 

Shouting sounded outside of the complex, and after a quick nod of agreement, Amelia and the man, Charles, dashed outside to see one of their men on a stretcher, splattered with presumably his own blood. “What happened?” she nearly screamed as she neared the warriors carrying him. “Not sure, we found him out in the trees like this.” 

She stared in horror at the lifeless body. It looked as though his neck had been gnawed at by a beast of some sort. He also had a wound in his abdomen that was still producing bright, red blood. His eyes were still wide open like he was begging to tell them what happened, and Amelia reached out a hand and closed them. 

The captain began to shout. “Put everyone on high alert. We need men on watch at all corners. I will leave it to you to take shifts. Amelia, come with me.” 
She nodded and followed the man back into the brick building where he paced back and forth in front of her. “This is becoming more frequent, Bell. I need you and Antoine to stop fooling around together and get to the bottom of this.”
Her cheeks instantly blushed. “Captain, I assure you–“ 
“Save it. This is why women should not be in the King’s army. If it was not for his adamancy on the matter, you would just be another peasant roaming the earth in search of food.” 
Her eyes burned a whole in the floor as she listened to his hurtful words. “Yes, sir.” 
“Go, and bring me back some information that will prohibit more of my men getting slaughtered.”

[center]*****[/center]

Antoine and Amelia spent what felt like hours in the woods attempting to find any sort of clue as to what happened to Michael, the man they had brought in the camp earlier. They couldn’t find anything of use, though, and she wasn’t looking forward to heading back to the camp with nothing to show. 

Something strange [i]was[/i] happening in the woods though. 

“Do you hear that?” She asked quietly to Antoine in front of her. 
He paused in silence for a moment. “No. What is it?”
“It’s,” she stopped to listen. “It sounds like whispering. Voices.” 
“I cannot hear a thing, Amelia.” 

The activity only grew in the forest as they began to head back home. She began to see things in the corner of her eye. Dark masses, taller than average height of a man. Once again, Antoine did not see anything which made Amelia question herself. 

“I must have a fever,” she mumbled as she pushed onward, staying in close proximity to Antoine. The stopped mentioning the shadowy figures she was seeing – he probably already thought she was crazy enough – and a silent prayer was said in her head that she had heard from her mother when she was little. 
[i]“Protégeme de las fuerzas oscuras y su agenda oscura en el nombre de Dios. Amén.”[/i] She finished the short prayer with signing a cross over her chest and kissing her hand. Although Amelia found most religious sentiments ridiculous, they were comforting. Soothing. 

When they returned to camp, Amelia left Antoine to fill in the captain while she visited the healer. She was a stout, old woman – probably in her fifties or sixties – with silvery white hair and dark eyes surrounded by wrinkled skin. 

“Maria, thank you for seeing me,” Amelia smiled as she was sat down on a lumpy cot in the dimly-lit room. 
The old woman waved a hand at her. “Please,” she retorted in a gravelly voice. “You are always a delight to see. What is the matter with you, girl?”
“I think I may have a fever. I have been seeing things, hearing things, [i]feeling things[/i]. I also had the worst nightmare I have ever experienced last night.” She shivered a bit as she recounted it. 
“Hmm,” the old woman pondered. “It does sound like it could be illness. Let me feel you.”

Maria put a hand to the girl’s forehead and abruptly yanked her hand away. “Amelia, you have the opposite of a fever. Your temperature is too low.” 
A quizzical expression took over Amelia’s face. “Too low? How is that possible?”
“I’m not sure,” the woman sure her head. “Let me blend something for you.”

The woman stepped over to a small wooden table and worked on a concoction of herbs, spices, and unknown ingredients and handed it to Amelia in a jug with a cork securing the top. “Drink this throughout the day. I will tell the captain that you should be on bed rest until you warm up a bit.” 

All Amelia could do was nod. She must have picked something up from Henry, the man whose head was delivered to the King, when he was touching her. 

[center]*****[/center]

Amelia had spent the rest of the day in her room drinking the potion tailored for her. It was awful; she nearly vomited each time she took a sip. Her naked body was bundled in a blanket as the last bit of light escaped from the sky and the room flickered with candle light. She desperately craved Antoine’s presence, but especially now that she was ill, it was probably best that he stay in his quarters. 

Her thoughts lingered on the mysterious prisoner that was brought in early that morning and how she felt in that cell, in his presence. Could he be the reason behind the strange day she had? 

No, no. It couldn’t be. There were no such things as malevolent forces that would bring this upon her, and there was definitely no such thing as magic. She mulled over the day in her head until she was eventually lulled to sleep.

[i]”It was as if Amelia was perched up in the corner, watching herself sleep in bed. The candle was still flickering on the small table, and the room was filled with a deafening silence. Everything was calm and peaceful –

The candle was blown out by a breeze that also ruffled the papers on the table. The room went pitch black, and Amelia, who was watching the room, could feel her heart start to race, and her eyes began to scan the room as they adjusted to the darkness.
[b]”Clara,”[/b] a whisper called out, breaking the silence. [b]”Clara.”[/b][/i]

Amelia nearly jumped out of bed as she awoke, panting heavily. Her skin glistened with sweat in the minimal light the moon outside was casting in her room, and she immediately pulled up the blanket to cover her chest as if someone else was in the room. It felt like there was. 

“It was just a dream, Amelia,” she mumbled to herself as she wiped the sweat from her brow. 

Immediately after she spoke, a dark shadow caught her attention in the corner of her room. 

“A-Antoine?” she whispered. “Is that you?” 

She then saw the shadow crouch down on the floor, and for a moment, she lost sight of it. She backed her body up against the wall that the bed was cornered in and squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Protégeme de las fuerzas oscuras y su agenda oscura en el nombre de Dios. Amén.” The Spanish prayer her mother had taught her was said in wavering breaths, but before she could repeat it, her body was lifted from the bed and thrown like a ragdoll, and she hit the wall on the opposite side of the room with a [b]thud[/b] before landing on the floor beneath it. 

Frozen in fear, she curled up into a ball on the floor when an abrupt stinging pain radiated from her back, causing an involuntary whimper from her. Before she could cry for help, her body was lifted once more, this time by her throat, and her body was pressed against the wall. Her eyes were shut as she tried to claw at whatever was pinning her, but there was nothing to claw at. She felt the claws from her nightmares dig into her neck as she gasped for air. 

[i][b]”Clara”[/b][/i], it whispered again before she dropped down to the floor. 

The candle’s flame returned, and she could see that nothing was in the room. After her lungs heaved to make up for the oxygen they lacked, she put a hand to her back and brought it into her view. Blood. 

In a hastened fashion, she quickly threw on her white linen shirt and breeches that were crumpled up in the corner, and she didn’t bother to lace her boots before dashing out of the building and making her way to the prison as she sheathed her sword at her waist. 

[center]*****[/center]

Wasting no time, she swung the door open and stood in front of the prisoner, sword drawn, still panting from the attack. “Wake up,” she demanded sternly, but quiet enough not to alert the guards. “Since you’ve been in our camp, strange things have been happening to me. If you have magical abilities like they say you do, tell me what this is.” 

She turned around and lifted her blood stained shirt to show three claw marks trailing down her back. After facing him again, she removed her hair from her neck to show him the bruising marks it had left. “Tell me what is happening.” It took nearly all of her energy to keep the tears down that were attempting to escape from her eyes.  “Why are you doing this?”