Inheritance

Part 2. Chapter 43: A Substitution of Tears

He threw himself to his knees on the hard floor beside his bed. He reached across the mattress and clasped one of Pollyanna's hand in his own.

"Pollyanna... I want to give you a gift—a gift that my ancestors nor anyone else has ever given you." Eory whispered.

Pollyanna's hand clamped down hard upon his own.

He couldn't understand why, but she was nervous.

"I will not order you to do this, but I know you will adhere to it anyway because you are a good person." Eory continued. "Please, Pollyanna, do not harm any of the people in this fortress. Make the right choice on your own."

"Eory," Pollyanna replied sternly. "Have you not heard the other recruits? They wish to give you a good thrashing just because you're far behind them in training—because you're an easy target. What if they attack you and I need to protect you?"

Eory looked at her keenly. Slowly, he murmured, "you can protect me if that happens. I just don't want you to kill anyone or hurt them grievously. I will leave the choice in your hands. I order you to do whatever you want while we live in this fortress."

He finalized the order, and Pollyanna was stunned. "You are truly... Giving me free reign to do whatever I wish?"

Eory nodded. "I know you'll do the right thing. Fjorn may have given you power.... But I'm giving you something better; I'm giving you the choice to be the hero you always wanted to be when you were a child."

Pollyanna hung her legs off the side of his bed with downcast eyes.

"You might regret this." She warned him.

Her heart fluttered as he laid his cheek on her knees.

"I know I won't. I have faith in you." He assured her.

The two sat, still as statues, in that position for a long time. Pollyanna basked in his presence, and he basked in hers.

He cruelly took his affections away from her, however, when he stood up and said with a smile. "We need to go to bed."

Pollyanna fluttered her eyes flirtatiously. "Together?"

Eory blushed. "Don't tempt me."

Pollyanna giggled and stood up—pulling down her nightgown and heading for the door.

When she passed by, Eory grabbed her wrist. "Pollyann—"

Yharos stood still as they locked eyes.

Recklessly and animalistically, he threw his arms around her neck and shoved his lips against hers. Pollyanna lifted him inches off the ground so she could return his kiss to the fullest. Without thinking, they both began leading each other back toward the bed.

Pollyanna grunted in pain when the piercing of her heart began. The potion, which still coursed through her veins, squeezed it viciously.

Frustrated tears built up in her eyes. Just for one night! Please!

Eory pulled away when he realized he was hurting her.

He wiped his lips with the back of his hand—unused to kissing as he was—and turned away from her with his fists clutched in frustration.

He slammed them against the wall with such fury that black magic shot through his wrists and coated his fingers.

If not for the bracelet Maruka had put on his wrist, he would have destroyed the wall with magic.

"Damn you! Why did you have to make such a foolish decision? Can't you see how much I desire you...? What if... What if you were my soul mate and not my ancestor's?"

Pollyanna looked forlorn. She held up a trembling hand—wanting to put it on his shoulder—but nervously lowered it when she realized she didn't have the courage to touch him. "You can only have one soul mate... Besides, if not for Fjorn, we never would have met. I would have died of old age by now, and nobody would have remembered me."

Eory shook with anger. "He seems to be the cause of all our miseries."

Pollyanna, unwilling to say anything negative about Fjorn, merely murmured, "goodnight, Eory. And if you insist on crying so often... Cry some tears for me every now and again." And left.

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While Pollyanna and Eory spoke of the distant past, Them crawled into bed and his friend, Pete, crawled in next to him. "What a day, huh? I'm glad that Pollyanna got to meet up with Eory again—even though Taylor had to go away in order for it to happen; I hope she won't be too angry about him taking over for a bit..."

Pete jingled sarcastically. She might end up killing you. She might make you burn with the passion you want to for right now, but you'll get bored with her in the future.

Them sighed—annoyed by his pesky friend's righteous pattering. "Then what will make me burn?"

You need to find it. Pete reiterated for what Them thought was the hundredth time since they met.

Them breathed deeply. "I have to find it before I die."