Disguised Vengeance

Chapter 23

Jase stood in a small clearing facing the clear, blue lake. The water was perfectly still and transparent, unlike the tumultuous ocean that surrounded Esyria, and in stark contrast to his own racing thoughts.

"Jase!"

The blond haired man tensed his jaw at the sound of his name. In the past four months at the castle, this voice had grown increasingly familiar. He yearned for it during the day but dreaded it when the sun dropped below the horizon. Nightmares about Catherine had been haunting him and disturbing his peaceful slumber.

Peaceful?

Ha! Nothing in his life has been peaceful since the death of his parents.

"Jase!" Catherine repeated, slightly breathless this time. She was running down a forest path towards him.

Jase turned slowly towards the sound of her voice. His muscles ached from the simple action. The fight with Chris had really worn him out. And yet, he had not really won... He struggled to remember the last time he had lost a battle. When was it? Who was it against? How old was he? What weapon was he using? Were his muscles this sore afterwards?

Meaningless thoughts filtered through his mind as he tried in vain to distract himself from thinking about Catherine.

He had sent a message to the Old Queen a week ago to tell her where he was and what he had planned. The lack of response worried him. Had something happened to his grandmother? What was going on in Esyria? Why was his spoiled, pampered cousin here in Bellerania?

Jase knew.

He knew he had to end his time here soon. He knew he had to kil...

His grim thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a small, slender figure collided against his chest. Jase took a step backwards to maintain his balance. Normally, he would have caught her easily, steady as a rock. But he was exhausted from his fight against Chris.

Small, cold hands wrapped gently around his neck, and a warm body pressed up against him. Jase gritted his teeth and struggled with his mask for a brief second before surrendering to the desires of his heart. He knew he had to keep his emotions in check around her. But he was too tired to give a damn. And...

It would all be over soon anyways, he thought darkly.

With that thought in mind, Jase relaxed his body and wrapped his arms around her waist. They stood in quiet embrace for a long time. Finally, Catherine took a step back and raised her chin to look into his eyes. Her left hand slid slowly from his neck to his upper arm. With her cold hand wrapped around his bicep, she drew tiny circles with the pad of her thumb. Her touch relaxed his sore muscles.

"Your fingers are cold," Jase said awkwardly.

"I know. They are my fingers after all."

Jase started to say something in reply but Catherine's attention was already focused elsewhere. Her eyes were trained on the scars that decorated his torso. It was an impressive collection of dark and light scars that he had accumulated over the years. Many were from practice fights and tournaments, and some were from drunken brawls.

One particular scar stood out among the rest. It was a long, thin white line that stretched diagonally across his chest. Catherine traced the scar, first with her butterscotch eyes and then with her fingers, gently from his left shoulder blade to the waistband of his pants.

"How did this happen?" she asked, her fingers lingering on his bare skin.

Jase looked down at his torso, surprised that she was able to spot the faded scar. He remembered the searing pain that accompanied it.

A twelve-year-old orphan, bitter and hungry for revenge, had climbed a tall ladder to reach the top shelf of the cabinet where his dead father's sword was stored. The mighty sword put to shame the flimsy metal blades that he had been practicing with for over a year. A single red ruby was embedded in the hilt and the sheath was coated with pure gold.

The child drew the sword from it sheath while standing dangerously on top of the ladder. His elevated position on the ladder and the feel of the mighty weapon in his hand gave him hope that one day, when he was taller and stronger, he would be able to avenge the death of his parents.

The young boy was attempting a butterfly sweep when his foot slipped on the ladder rung, sending both him and the heavy sword crashing down towards the hard wood floor.

"How did this happen?" Catherine repeated. Her persistent voice broke Jase out of his reverie.

"I was playing with a sword," Jase lied. He was not playing. He was trying to kill.

"How foolish."

"I am a fool," he replied, his voice deep and husky as he leaned closer to her. Jase couldn't decide whether he was a fool because he had developed feelings for his enemy's daughter or if he was a fool because despite his feelings, he was going to kill her father.

"I happen to like fools," Catherine murmured softly, unaware of what her voice was doing to the man in front of her.

Jase instinctively placed one hand against the small of her back, bringing her closer to him and molding her against him. Warmth radiated from her body through her thin dress.

"Then you are a fool," Jase growled, silencing Catherine first with his finger, then with his lips.

Author's note:

I know that it has been a million years since I last updated. For those who have stuck with me, thank you for your patience. University has been overwhelming. I am in my final year now and am proud to announce that I've developed greater time management skills and reduced procrastination. Good news! I intend to finish this story in the next two months! Do stick around!