MY MAJESTY, VOLUME 2 - SEASON 7 EPISODE 18

Lucy knew her governess had spoken to Theodore, which was the reason why the woman was in such a bad mood. Theodore behaved as if nothing of importance took place between them, and she could only tell that she wouldn’t find out anything from him.

She shook her head, “I was just curious…I should get back to my lessons, Ms. Lewis must be waiting for me,” and she turned around, ready to walk before she turned back to look at him and say, “Thank you for finding my poem.”

Theodore offered her a polite bow, “I hope you have a good class, Lady Lucy.” He watched Lucy walk away from there, and the smile slowly lowered down.

Not because he was faking his smile with the princess, but because she had left the corridor, and his thoughts went to the words that were written in the folded parchment that he had returned to her.

Theodore had no interest in involving Lucy in the politics in the castle as the people whom Calhoun was interested in were Queen Morganna and King Laurence. He didn’t know why, but since last night it seemed that things had changed as if the very air that he was breathing had changed to something else than what was there before.

He knew the princess was innocent and ignorant, but yesterday she had been allowed to hear something he was sure she had not expected to hear about her grandmother. The shock was clearly written on her face.

King Laurence had sent Calhoun on some work, and it seemed like it would take a while before he would return, giving him his own time to watch people of the castle and learn more about them. The clouds had turned heavier, and in no time, the rain started to pour down in Devon.

Away from the castle, Calhoun had just finished speaking to one of the magistrates in the village of Carnival, and he stepped out of the building to notice the carriage he had arrived in had disappeared from the previously parked place.

“Do you need a ride?” asked the magistrate, holding an umbrella in his hand.

“That’s fine,” replied Calhoun. “The coachman must have pulled the carriage to another place so that he wouldn’t get drenched along with the horses.”

The magistrate then offered another spare umbrella to Calhoun, “Take this, my future King. You might need it as the rain is going to turn heavier. You are free to stay back in here until the rain stops.”

“Thanks,” Calhoun took hold of the black umbrella and said, “I should probably get back to the castle as the King expects the package to be delivered to him as soon as possible.”

Calhoun had not stayed for breakfast or lunch as his father wanted him to get on the work that was waiting for him. This has not given him the time to drink blood, and he opened the umbrella for it to make a soft flapping sound before he placed it above his head.

The magistrate left his office, walking away in the rain and on the village’s streets that was deserted. The sound of the rain surrounded Calhoun, and the water that slid down from the roofs of the buildings made more noise as it fell on the ground.

Calhoun left the building behind him as he made his way through the nearby streets, looking for the coachman or the carriage that belonged to the castle, but he noticed it was nowhere to be found. It seemed that the coachman had disappeared without letting him know, and it made him wonder if it had anything to do with his grandmother, who was trying to trouble him with such silly things.

The people of the village had returned to their homes. The rain reminded him of his mother because of how sick she turned in this weather. It reminded him of the people and their gazes, along with their whispers of hate for him. The only difference right now was that he now had an umbrella to shelter him.

He wondered if he should go back to the building, considering how he wouldn’t be able to fly in the sky because of the pouring rain.

When he stepped into another street, even though the sound of rain, he heard a couple of footsteps behind him, and he turned around to see men who didn’t bother to carry an umbrella, but they did hold rods and sticks with them.

“Are you Calhoun? The whore’s son?” asked one of the men over the rain.

Calhoun stared at the men who were in the count of ten, and they seemed to circle him slowly. “How strange that you address me that way. I am the bastard’s son,” chimed Calhoun.

“He’s the person,” said another man behind him, “I saw him with King Laurence in the town.”

Not a second later, a fight broke down in the middle of the street where the men tried to attack Calhoun, and he tried to defend himself. It wasn’t that Calhoun didn’t expect people from the royal court not to pull a stunt like this. And though he had fought people in the past, he hadn’t fought so many people before at a time.
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Calhoun punched and kicked, but with the weapons that the men held, one of the people pushed the rod’s sharp edge into Calhoun’s stomach, making him lose his stance for a moment. But when the men thought they had finally got the vampire good, two of them came forward to catch hold of Calhoun to thrash him into the ground.

But at the time, Calhoun caught hold of one of the men, and he tore the man’s head apart. The same thing happened with the next two people. Blood spilt on the ground, turning the water around red as the others looked at Calhoun in shock while he tried to keep himself alive.
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