He hated how she berated him for always failing him. He hated her throwing her weight around and telling him what to do and yet he never protested, not once in his whole lifetime. He never had any guts and his obedience to her only served to prove that.

It irritated him of course.

But he would never do anything to cut it short.

In a way, it was his own way of showing her his affection.

"Damned stubborn woman" he muttered under his breath with a curse. He wished things had been different.

He wish he had things his own way.

Never did he know that his problem would be solved sooner than he ever thought possible.

He cleared his throat and entered her room, with the sort of boyish trepidation that may customarily accompany a naughty boy to be punished for stealing an apple.

He knew what to expect. She would turn on him the very moment she would see him and he would have to listen to another one of her many impassioned tirades.

Here it goes

And indeed, he felt a lump in his throat upon entering, but for entirely different reasons altogether. What he saw sent a shiver down his spine. Sebile's slender form was slumped lifelessly on the floor, her beautifull scattered around in thich black cascades.

Later he would vaguely remeber gathering her limp body in his strong arms or calling her name, in a failed attempt to bring her round.
He would only see her face, bereft of life, so peaceful, so serene.

So cold.

a sob shattered his body as realisoation of his wan future, a fuure without Seble, his shrewdish, passionate, heartless Sebile, unveiled before his eyes. He felt so helpless, so alone.
What was he going to do without her?

If there was anything his hardened heart ever loved, it had been her. And now she, too, had been taken away from him.

*************************
So engrossed was he in his sorrowful bereavemt that he never notice a lithe shadow watching the whole scene unbeknowst to him, lurking, waiting for an opportunity to strike. But the only opportunity was forever lost when he called over the guards and ordered them, in a still quvering voice, to search every nook and cranny of the villa for the mysterious assailant, on pain of death.
The figure cursed under her breath "You sentimental fool" and swiftly, in order no to be discovered, disappeared into the welcoming night. It was too dangerous to stay in the villa with all those soldiers lurking around.

At least one problem was off her head.

Who was the mysterious assailant? the wind asked as it carried the reverbearitng echo of Caius's sorrowful tears.

And she, for it was a she, ran for her life, ran towards the safety of her shelter somewhere in the city.