Crown Of Curse

14 Serein

Voting will be a revolting thing for silent readers. And for who made it till here...congratulations my flamingos- you shall now enter chaos.

The rest of the night I got pelted with a wad of information. Hann Slantis impersonated a brooding ghost by the corner, while Marlon Saga laid down a foundation of what my role demands me to be. I was to attend the University Of Esseth located inside the premise of the palace area, the addition of one more activity wouldn't have thrilled my fancy if Marlon wouldn't have mentioned the mandatory conduct for all the new aspirants from Found to do the same. It meant I get to see Dorin tomorrow and my very happy smile and glee was met by Marlons fascinated shake of head.

My celebration and mirth were short lived when the General advised that I must rest before the schooling night, Marlon agreed. In fact it was him who accompanied me into navigating the effortlessly forgettable path to the place we came from. Cutting it from the same corner of black floors and copper walls, it is when I realized that I wasn't provided with my own room.

Sure they don't trust me.

I wouldn't do that if I were them, it's wise.

But among all the other alternatives they chose to throw me into the most isolated and haunted region of Falls, The Ezdans den.

I wonder if they would allow me to be in the vicinity as same as their Heir when my identity is bare. A Helian girl with warnings that's so naked that with the exception of the Ezdan himself, none would be able to save me.

It was unfair to count him as my possible saviour. He plays my anchor and shoves me to drown when I have air enough in my lungs to survive. He behaves as someone who believes he has me perceived and known. And the scary thought is- he seems to know. Know what I don't.

It's a behaviour of a prey, not that of a well wisher.

And I am unfamiliar with many aspects of normal life to comprehend him. It begins with the standard of education that I couldn't receive on diplomatic strategies. But my lesson on patience got surprisingly initiated by his sleeping form on the mighty bed. He was in the same fit that I had seen him last with. His legs encased in boots were crossed by the ankle and his forearm slung across hiding his eyes from me, the manner his lips were part in slight and the rise and fall of his chest by the lazy half-unbuttoned shirt- it was evident.

He had collapsed.

I sank into the divan chair beside the little cliff of untouched food. I wait for a minute, then I pick and bite into one of the creamy fondants of cake. Then I scoff it down in a fashion so unladylike that the insufficient feminity in me is terrorised by it. Then I move to the meat, then the seasoned potatoes floating in a soup, because one can be poor and starving and yet prevail to be finicky.

I liked the potato.

Not the soup.

I also study the Ezdan under the lustrous hues his room is illuminated with, which is a proof of how good of a creep I could be if approved. His veins run across his arm, from the fold of the sleeve it disappears by the hem of the glove by the wrist. Though he is built with lean muscle, the proof is enough to accept humbly that one of his punches can take two of my teeth.