I am Reborn through Revenge

My suspicions

“Brad” I called him. “How did you get a professional to do this for you?” I asked him.

I could see his eyes visibly fluttering. “It takes money to see a professional around. Not that difficult if you have the coins,” he replied, his voice was steady.

I nodded. “That’s true but to get a professional who you could trust with your whole life is something that isn’t quite attainable. Or don’t you agree?” I asked him.

He just nodded, he didn’t utter a word. “Brad, to be honest, you are making me uncomfortable here. You have not said anything useful at all. I wouldn’t want to nurture a feeling within my heart that you had anything to do with this.”

I had expected him to be shocked that I said this but no, he just closed his eyes for a moment and then ran a finger through his hair. He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Alright sir,” he said and sighed again. “The guy I hired to dig on Valerie was the same guy I hired to make some findings for me when I recently came back to Zahrin.”

“Findings of?” I asked.

“Personal stuff.”

“Family stuff you mean?”

“Yes. . . No.” He looked at me as though he was suspicious of something.

I raised my brows. “Continue, please.”

“Before I contacted him, I have struggled to find answers to some strange things that had happened to. . . to people I care about while I was away but I couldn’t. I bumped into this guy and then. . ."

“He helped you found answers?”

“Not just that. He did it quicker than I thought. He found someone I had wanted to see.”

I knew exactly what Brady was talking about. I knew the story about what happened to his family but what I didn’t know was why he never talked about it. And as careless as I was, I had never asked him about his family. I didn’t want to rush it, I needed to know who he was longing to see, I thought.

“Who was it that he found?” I asked him. He stood without uttering a word. “Was it your brother?

His eyes blazed. He looked over to my face and then to my legs and back to my eyes. “How did you know?” he asked shockingly. I could see it in his eyes. They looked nervous, anxious, name it.

“The Widow,” I said. “She already told me everything, Brad.”

Brady’s jaw dropped slowly. He hadn’t expected it. He didn’t see it coming. I wondered what he could be feeling inside of him. Maybe he will think that I had gone to the Widow because I was suspecting him to be responsible for the death of Valerie, I thought.

Humans! You never can tell what they are capable of thinking. “You would have told me, Brad. You would have told me earlier. Maybe I would have helped.” I tried to keep my voice as smooth as possible.

“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” he said, his voice was coated with pains. But I wasn’t planning to open an old wound.

“Where is your brother now?” I asked him. We traded glances but he suddenly looked away.

“I don’t know.”

“But you said he was found?”

“Yes. It was more or less like he made himself available to us,” he said. “My brother made us found him and not the other way round.”

“Why did you say so?” I asked. I was a little bit confused.

He rubbed at his eyes. “Ever since what happened to my family, he swore an oath that he was going to revenge their death no matter how long it takes. He had made some connections with dangerous people and I think he is more resentful and dangerous than I used to know him. I have warned him to take things easy. I told him that it might get him killed but he wouldn’t listen.”

I could imagine the type of hatred Brady's brother had for our family. Queen Veronica’s family to be precise. Brady might have told him to take it easy but I didn’t think Brad understands his brother. He was there when almost everyone in his family was killed, he saw everything but Brady wasn’t so I don’t think anyone understands him at all. He has every right to have his revenge.

But I do. Yes, I do understand him. I felt like I needed to see whoever this guy was and get to talk to him and see if he could reason along with me. I had this feeling that I was the only one who could make him change his motive and not necessarily his mind. Our situation was more or less the same— we had lost people we love, people we cherish the most.

“Brad,” I called him. “He has every right to take his revenge. I wish to meet him. I need to talk to him.”

“You do?”

“Yes. If you could set up a meeting, then I would love to meet him. It might not be urgent but just. . . just get me to meet him, okay?” I begged.

He nodded. “Alright. I will do that.”

“Thank you. I will be going now, Brad. I have taken a lot of your time. I sincerely apologize.”

He chuckled. His cute chin widened and his lips quirked. “No problem sir.”

He smiled.

“Your Highness!” I corrected, pointing a finger at him.

He gave a half-laugh, turning with a speed of the wind, and hurriedly went back to work.

***Marie's POV***

Marie was back to the cabin house after she had taken a document to the librarian as instructed. She was lying on her stomach on her bed. She supported her jaw with both hands, strangely recalling the feelings she had when she met the Prince earlier. At first, when she saw him, she tried to avoid the Prince's dreamy eyes. An eye that almost melted her heart, making it flutter in her chest. She couldn’t understand why it made her felt this way. She hadn’t felt that way for anyone before as far as she could remember and she had certainly never felt that way for any man before. The Prince's gaze felt like magnetic energy drawn away from her body, forcing her toward the direction where he stood. The best she could do for herself was to look away. But then, something else made her look again. When she heard the Prince spoke, she heard a voice that wasn’t his— a voice she didn’t know him with. His voice was coarser than it used to be and he forced himself to speak coherently to her. She could sense pains hidden in his words. She wanted to assume that he might have been suffering from a sore throat and that was why he couldn’t say out words coherently but no.

She saw tears!

She saw tears dripping down from his eyes while he steadied his face. She wondered what could make a Prince shed tears uncontrollably? Was it about a woman? Marie frowned but then shook it off. What could make him cry? What could make him stand alone there all by himself?

Marie turned on the bed, now lying on her back. She remembered hugging the Prince first. Why did she do that? It was a shameful thing to do as a woman, she thought. But then, she wanted to let go but the Prince wouldn’t let her. It was a good thing he did that because she would have been ashamed of her actions but she felt so relaxed hugging him after all. When her head was resting on his chest, she could hear it ponder. But later it slowly came to a halt. What could have caused it? His warm breath felt ticklish on her. She didn’t dare ask him what was wrong with him but she was sure that he was not himself and she wasn’t even sure if she was herself either when she hugged him. How brave? For a servant girl to hug a royal Prince must have taken an insane amount of courage, bravo!

She laughed.

Marie's room was sure the loneliest place in the Palace, if not the loneliest place in the world. But yet, she couldn’t get over the imagination that thinking about the Prince had kept her company ever since she came back from the library where she had delivered a letter in the morning. She had a feeling that she was slowly going crazy. Blushing over a Prince wasn’t one of the brightest ideas a maid should habour or think of, she thought.

She wanted to focus. Maybe she wanted to focus on another thing, maybe anything that wasn’t about him. She closed her eyes, trying to shift her mental gear. Then, there was a hard knock on her door. It sounded like a clang from a soldier's boots.

Who could that be?

She shot her eyes open immediately. Then the knock came again, harder than the first one.

Did she want to shift her mind to something else, right? Did she want to focus on another thing except him? I think the prayer had been answered. She stood up immediately and ran to the door. She NEVER had visitors except, Angie. But Angie couldn’t be knocking like that— knocking like an angry soldier. She opened the door, surprisingly, it was her; it was Angie.