2. Prologue(cont'd).

Quietly and carefully, Barak followed far behind them as they climbed up the second floor. They walked through a passage and stepped into the room at the end of the passageway.

To think she had no remorse! Even after news of his death had reached her, she still came into the arms of her lover!

He moved near the closed door, placing his ear on it, trying to listen in on their conversation.

"Now you can come to me fully. Now we can be together, my love. All that remains is to bring the Trago Kingdom down. Although, with the death of their prince they are as good as dead now. All thanks to you, my love."

He had never felt more pain before. He could burn down the entire place with the fire that was burning inside of him.

"And we shall go away together, right?" Her voice. The sweetest melody his ears had ever heard. She had pulled him in many times with that voice. Deceived him, lied to him. But he had believed her.

Sweet heavens, how could he not? Her words sounded true, and the sweetness of her voice, soft and melodious when she wanted it to be. Her voice made her words seem even more sincere.

The little witch!

"Of course. Come my love, come into my arms. Let me love you in a manner that that dead prince could never have. Let me feel your lips upon mine. Allow me to drown myself in the fragrance of your skin and the lush of your hair. Come to me."

He heard her footsteps, light and somewhat weary. But he could tell that she had moved to him. Into his arms.

By the gods, I shall wring her neck! I shall throttle that little elven witch I swear it! I shall!

Curses! I am still her husband! She has no right to fall into the arms of another!

Wrapping his face firmly with the cloth around his neck so as to conceal his identity, Barak could no longer take it. With a strong push, he bursted into the room and the anger was evident in his blood red eyes.

She was in the arms of another man! Atop him on a bed. Oh gods! He was frozen at the door. The pain in his heart suddenly seemed to outweigh the anger.

His wife! She was his wife! Betrayal aside, she was his own. She was his to punish, to kill, to save…

By the heavens, she was his to hold dear.

"What audacity!" The man fumed. "Who are you? How dare you barge in here like this! Do you know who I am?"

Of course Barak knew exactly who he was. He was Lyle. Prince Lyle of the Niles.

"Who are you? A common thief? Or an assassin?Whichever you are, it would be in your best interest to walk out of here right now or face my wrath!" Barak could only scoff at his words. If anyone was wrath here, it was himself who had to stare at his wife atop another man.

His eyes remained on her and hers on his. He'd make her pay.

With a long stride, Barak drew out his sword and she instantly jumped off Lyle's body, pulling out a dagger from her calf. She still carried it around.

"Foolish peasant!" Lyle yelled and reached for his sword, but Barak was quicker, swinging his sword at Lyle, causing the man to back away from picking up his own sword. "You fool! I have men in this building." He instantly took his hand to his mouth and let out a loud whistle.

At the sound of his whistle, men come bursting into the room with arms, quickly surrounding Barak from every corner, dividing him from his purpose of the night. His wife.

His tall height and body build made him a tower ring presence amongst them.

He could take them out with one strong blast, but he knew he couldn't use his powers here. It'd only give him away. He had to fight them one on one.

But he had no time for that either. Looking over at his wife, he could see Lyle holding her wrist tightly. He just had to get out of there with her. His gaze shifted to the balcony and then back to her.

"Hiyah!!" One man roared and charged at him. The others followed suit. Rushing towards him with clear intent. An ax came flying at him. With a strong wave of his own sword, Barak fatally slashed the ax-wielder, also efficiently dodging a sword aiming for his throat causing the assailant to stab his comrade.

With a strong push, Barak glided between the men, clanking swords as he made a path toward her. For a moment, just for a split moment, everything seemed to pause as he stood before her. Emerald green eyes staring at him with anger. Anger he knew so well.

"How dare y—" Lyle's words switched to a loud cry of pain as Barak slashed his hand that held onto her, severing the man's wrist from the rest of his hand. And in the same second picked her up like she was nothing more than paper, tossed her onto his shoulder and ran toward the balcony.

"Get him! Ahhh! Ahh! My hand! My hand! Get that bastard! Ahh!" The cry of Lyle filled the room, mixed with the roars of his men as they charged after Barak.

Slamming and screaming upon his shoulder, Barak tried to make her stay out, but she was one feisty vixen. His feisty vixen.

"Who are you? Who paid you? Put me down right now! Do you know who I am!" Of course he knew who she was, he knew her more than she could even imagine.

With a quick and firm jump, Barak landed on the damp earth causing her to cough and cry in pain as his shoulder pressed hard into her stomach.

"You bastard! Stop hitting my stomach! And put me down."

He could just fly away, but that too would give him away. He was someone who was supposed to be dead.

He whistled loudly and a stallion as dark as the feathers of a raven came matching toward them. Unceremoniously, he tossed her over the horse, laying her stomach on the back of the animal. And before she could even begin to try and climb down, he climbed up next to her and the door to the entertainment house burst open.

"There he is! Get him!!" Now, it seemed the entire house worked for Lyle. He should have expected it.

"Go!" He urged the horse and the mighty beast instantly took off. An arrow came flying past his head, he looked back and saw Lyle standing next to the man holding the bow and arrows, firing at them. Other men who had horses were also hot on their trail.

And his dear wife was as restless as ever.

"How dare you! How dare you touch me!!" She screamed and wriggled like a worm.

"Ahh!" He yelped as a sudden sharp pain overwhelmed him. She just stabbed him on his thigh! The little witch. Without remorse or pity, his hand landed heavily on her derriere and a loud cry escaped her lips.

"How dare you! How dare you, you bastard!" She cried. And pressed her finger into the stab wound.

Another cry escaped her lips as he slapped her hard on her buttocks again. He pulled the knife out of his thigh and threw it directly at one of the horsemen chasing them.

"I swear I will make you pay! I will make you suffer, you bastard. Just wait and see. You will regret touching me." She screamed.

He just ignored her. His goal at the moment was to make it past the forest of thieves. If he crossed the river, they wouldn't chase him anymore. Because beyond the river was the forest of Itirilar.

The forest of the damned.

Urging the stallion to move faster, Barak rode further and further. His was an excellent horse. Sturdy and fast. Their's was no match for his own.

In time, they reached the river, crossed it and just as he had expected, the men didn't dare follow them across the river.

Silently, he rode into the forest.

She was quiet. Too quiet. If it was someone else, he'd say she was scared of the forest. Of the howling and whistling of the night.

But not her. Whenever she was this quiet, she was thinking of something mischievous.

He could tell she was already planning her escape strategy. But he wasn't going to let her. He was going to make her pay. For every single betrayal.

Heavens! How in the world did they get to this? They were never the perfect husband and wife, and he knew she had another lover… But still, why did she betray him.