A girl in disguise. An heir in hunt. A world divided.
Iris Lavera is born into the civilization of the least respected ones. The lineage where it's predicted to birth a curse. A low born who will be the downfall of an entire nation if left alive.
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Julian Ezdans chamber is a maze to discover. If I wasn't keen on understanding him, I would have neglected the fact that how he often resides in the most isolated part of any building that I have been with him in. Be it the base of Keld, the Orphic or the Falls Palace. And since is such a seamless target for anyone to kill, his screams may bounce the scenic four empty walls of such space and his sculpted body could be laid to rest by the damp yard the back door of his room opens to. It's almost like he is inviting assasins for tea with a strategy to get killed.
Though I doubt he will give his assassins the reward of hearing him cry for help. It's not impossible to envision him dying with a mysterious scowl on his glowing, foolish face. He won't satisfy even then. He is too selfish for that. Similar to how his room disappointed me.
It fails to bask in the luxury of gold and pastel satin sheets. A very dark spread of black and silver veils the ghastly large bed that could house a whole family to sleep in. In place of fancy portraits- swords and maps hung like a loud reminder of what happens outside of these borders. His study is littered with papers, books and discarded gloves, and a thin layer of dust. No wonder he sneezed thrice the second he opened the doors to his caveman hood. There is a large mirror with an elegant frame on a spare wall, and the curtains and chandelier might fool me, but the state of this place feels like something that hasn't been tended in for months.
I sit by the end of an unmade bed, a velvet pillow lies by my feet, and my feet don't touch the floor with how high and thick the mattress is. I hear him sneeze from somewhere inside the adjoining room he disappeared into.
When he comes out of the suspiciously dark corner, he is nowhere near the man I came in with. His coat is gone, and so is his suit. A simple white shirt and trousers fit his frame, with the sleeve folded to his forearms, I watch him flex the gloved knuckles. His nose is the faintest of pinks.
He sniffles.
I almost smile in glee.
If he sneezes, he can also die. He can die pathetically with flu clogging his lungs, like a mortal he his. Oh Raisins, what I can give to see him look sick and bed ridden, even if it's just for one day.
"Where do keep escaping to, in thoughts I mean?" He asks, in his safe place he sounds manlier than ever. I push my palm into the plush blanket. I must admit, his room- smells like him. Something addictive in nature. "Is it a fantasy?"
I yelp in surprise, my face heats without a chance. He notes my reaction-moving over to his desk with a rag. When his back was to me, I do begin to fantasise again. About a blade shaving off his dark, excellent brows. One at a time. But he derails my dreams.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of Tommy. With your disguise, it must be hard to be in mans world and not be with one" I detect a smile in his tone that I don't see. I got hot from inside, yet it doesn't get to my head.
