Shards From Other Stars

5. Ramage

Wylie wasn't just staring at the guard in front her out of curiosity—she wasn't staring at all actually—she was glaring at him. His annoying ash blonde hair, she couldn't believe she complimented earlier—wishing she could take it back this very moment.

The audacity, this guard had—the most jaw dropping audacity to smack her hand away, like a child about to steal from a cookie jar. It wasn't like she would set the damn portrait on fire—well, she definitely could do that before he would even notice it but right now that wasn't the point.

She would never dare, it was quite offensive to assume and accuse her—she was unbearable sometimes but provoking the King and Queen in their home! She'd have to be out of her mind—much more than she already was.

Wylie was just trying to admire the texture of the portrait, it wasn't like she was going to smear or mess up the dried paint—this thing wasn't freshly painted, was it?

A quick glance at the portrait she turned back to him, still glaring of course. "That hurt." Wylie mumbled as she rubbed her victimised hand. Atlas? Anxiety? Asshole—whatever his name was—she couldn't quite remember it, remained unfazed not even a single apology.

"Rude." Left her lips as she still had her gaze fixed on him, she was trying her best to remember his name but nothing came close to what she heard Qien call him, before they left her assigned chambers.

She was bad at names, sometimes and in her defence hearing a name once wouldn't stick—for the long run. And he, name lost in space, was rude enough to not introduce himself when Qien left them. Ash blonde hair, would be his name now—it did start with an A too—that was close enough.

"She said you couldn't touch anything."

Or should it just be asshole.

Wylie stared at him up and down, from his boots to his hair, numerous times just to annoy him.

Then again Qien, held this name much better—it suited her so well, it was definitely made for her.

As her instructions or shall she call them warnings, that she would find no trouble following yet she chose not to, were absurd and a kill joy. Touch nothing, she said about five times each time louder than the last with hostility.

Which wasn't much friendly or being a good host as Qien was stuck on the concept of calling her, a guest.

Wylie knew she might have provoked the guard that fueled to her already existing spite—she didn't have a good reputation after all.

But

Turning a new leaf, mostly when it was against your own will—did not look good because she wasn't 50% in—she wasn't even in agreement with all this.

She wouldn't say that though, her life was of value to her—she was after all only 24 years old, she had a lot of years ahead and she needed to not—die.

But that wasn't the point, she wasn't the problem. The point she was trying to say was for a guest she felt locked up and them breathing down her neck was her last straw, she couldn't even leave her room without two guards following her.

Not that she did leave her room—she wasn't allowed!

See, that's the point.

And Wylie knew the Queen was the only one considering her a guest, and as her job Qien had to keep her guard up for her—which mean watching her 24/7 without the Queen's consent—or maybe with it, only asking her to not kill the girl.

Which she was thankful for just not onboard with room arrest.

Qien's rant about her being a guest and this as 'security'—from her, not for her wellness—as Wylie clinged onto her begging to roam around freely, was bullshit and she was calling for proof.

She needed to see it to believe otherwise, accusations, false accusations.

Why was it unbelievable and total bullshit, well you see—Qien hadn't stopped glaring neither did that scowl leave her face—she was not, definitely not, fooling anyone especially Wylie.

Anyway, once Qien managed to free herself she reluctantly agreed to let her roam the castle only under her watch. But life had other plans as Mr. Ash blonde hair, black boots in leather pants and a golden shirt with the crest on the right side came running looking for Qien, then off she was with one last glare at Wylie.

He seemed pleasant at first and she thought it would be fun, but she was so wrong—very wrong.

He was a much more difficult companion than Qien. She would never have thought she would prefer the female guard right now, maybe even her chambers were a better option.

"What am I going to do, steal it?"

He was definitely judging and mocking her as mimicked her stance—arms crossed in front of him, his head tilted to the side a bit with a raised eyebrow—that had 'you're a thief' written all across his face. He didn't even have to voice that out, she would steal! Not the portrait but definitely something in the castle.

Offensive. Wylie groan her arms falling to her side as she turned away from his silly face—what a curse Qien bestowed on her.

He wasn't wrong but could one person in this castle give her the benefit of a doubt. A thief she was but she had manners—sometimes.

Mostly when one wrong move would leave her dead, in whatever ways they chose to kill her in.

"So Poe, anything I can do that's fun here!" Wylie questioned as she turned back to stare at him.

Instead of the smirk he had on earlier, his face held a glare—Poe? Like seriously, his name wasn't even hard. "Ain." He corrected with a firm tone finding it unamusing.

Wylie frowned, the man had no sense of humour very sad, for her obviously.

"If stealing is your cup of tea, sorry to burst your bubble but nothing will interest you here." He added, with those words his smirk returned.

Okay, maybe he had a bit of it.

Wylie smiled.

Maybe he wasn't so bad and he would be bearable sometimes, she would still consider hims annoying though. But not as annoying as he would have been if he was taller than her, thankful they were the same height and didn't have to glance up at him—unlike Qien, that woman was tall and she sure loved looking down on Wylie.

One of the main reasons not to like her—she wasn't short because Qien was ridiculously tall.

"You're very lucky I don't have my dagger right now." Wylie stated. Even as she gave him an eye roll for his smirk and snobbish words, she held a smile. "But on that topic, when is that sour wrench giving my stuff."

His smirk flattened, barely leaving any amusement in his face—so noted, name calling was a touchy spot—another thing to add to the no touchy rules around here.

"Qien, will give them when you're trustworthy." His emphasis on her name wasn't missed neither was the pointed look that came after. He was so—puppy love hang over her—Wylie Couldn't tell if it was from admiration of his senior or a romantic feeling—a crush.

That wasn't her business right now, so she shook her thoughts away—in the big black box to not return.

"You should be thankful to be roaming around freely."

At those words she took her attention back on him and not in her thoughts. Wylie stared into his grey eyes, that were squinted at her.

"You are literally breathing down my neck Arvin. I don't know what 'freely' you are implying."

Ain, she knew that was his name when he said it earlier but it was fun to mess with him, his reaction was priceless—Wylie smirked.

"Ain."

"Sure, whatever floats your boat, Aston." She spoke dismissivly trying her best not to laugh, as his frown deepened.

Now that she actually looked at him and not just his hair and eyes—weird combination by the way—he looked about her age, if she was wrong he would be a year over 25, she could bet on that.

"You're doing that on purpose!"

Wylie shrugged, "Where is the Princess, Sin?"

"Arvi—Ain!"

"Are you sure? You seem to not know your own name!" Wylie laughed as her hand fell on his shoulder long enough to pat him before he slapped her hand off—rude—Wylie tsked. "You seem unaware of things Arvi—Ain, so I'll go find this Princess myself." She announced.

"Follow me."

Ain mumbled through his gritted teeth. He walked ahead of her but not before he 'accidentally' bumped into Wylie's shoulder, violently — Wylie laughed as she followed behind Ain, his hands resting on his sword by the hip.

Even the way he walked was annoying.

Wylie turned away looking at the portraits and wall interior, following behind him—the sound his boots and hers made as the walked filled her ears.