A RAY OF SUNLIGHT streaming through the window woke me with a reminder of what day it was. Monday.
I'd spent the weekend helping Mum with sewing some clothes women from town had ordered. But now, as the day had come when Chase would be back from somewhere he'd refused to tell me, the trepidation increased with each step towards his manor.
As I was inside, he wasn't here. I wasn't relieved. He would be here eventually, and in the meantime, I admired paintings on the walls as though I hadn't seen them already. But it didn't take Chase long to show up.
"Here you are."
I put on a smile before I turned to him. "Here I am." I took in his outfit. He was shirtless, merely baldric laden with lethal weapons covering his muscular chest, and the archery quiver was peeking from his back. "Were you on a hunting spree?"
He took a step closer. "I was."
I acknowledged his bare, clean hands. "I suppose hunting didn't go well?"
"It didn't," he said half-heartedly and reduced the remaining distance between us by putting his hands on my hips and pulling me closer to his half-naked body. "It's your fault I came empty-handed, Ely."
"How is it my fault?"
His eyes sparkled. The bile rose in my throat while my stomach churned with nausea.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you. You were always on my mind, and I couldn't focus for two days." Chase leaned closer to my ear, and his tongue touched my earlobe. Disgust filtered through me, but I fought back an impulse to shrink back. "Do you want to know what I was thinking about?"
Absolutely not.
"Maybe."
His lips brushed against the skin below my ear. My body remained rigid. But I had to react or else he would know something was—
Oh, who was I trying to fool? Even if he realised something was wrong, he would ignore it. It was his forte to turn a blind eye to everything that was happening around him.
"I thought..." He spun me around. His hands were on my hips as he pushed me against the wall, lips close to my ear. "...how pretty you would look like if I—"
I swivelled my head to look at the end of the corridor where the charcoal-black door was, almost knocking his face, but I didn't, to my disappointment. "What is behind that door?"
Ever since the first time I had stepped into his manor and seen the mysterious door, I'd been speculating on what was behind it. When I was alone, I attempted to get inside, but it was always locked. Whatever was in there, it must be of great value to consider locking it.
"Nothing you should concern your pretty head with." His strong hands went lower my hips and rested on the back of my thighs. "Now, where was I?"
"Chase," I crooned. "What's in there?" I batted my eyelashes.
"Nothing. To. Bother. Yourself. With."
My hair bristled at his rough tone. I shouldn't have asked him. I shouldn't have—
"If you show me..." I turned to him and dragged my finger down his chest in a slow, seductive way while biting my bottom lip. He was frowning, but his breathing heaved. My seduction was working like a charm. "I'll do anything you wish."
The lines in his face softened. "Anything?"
I leaned in and whispered, "Anything."
I earned a satisfied smile from him.
He removed his hands from my legs and as he pulled away, suddenly I was able to breathe. I could only hope my offered services wouldn't be for nought, and whatever was behind the door was something noteworthy.
Chase walked in front of me. My heart was pounding as we approached the door. My curiosity had made me sell my dignity, but perhaps it was all for the better.
He fished out a key from the back of his pocket. Of course, I should have been wiser. I could have borrowed the key when he was asleep instead of humiliating myself. But what had been done was done. There was no going back now.
Chase inserted the key in the padlock and twisted it. "There is nothing interesting to see for a woman's eye," he muttered, and the padlock clicked open. "I don't get why you are so eager to see what's in there."
I didn't respond, and he opened the door, letting the faint light pour in. We stepped inside, and as Chase closed the door behind me, another wave of fright rippled across my already bedecked with gooseflesh skin.
I wasn't sure what I'd anticipated seeing. Perhaps something sick that would make me throw up. But it wasn't anything close to it. The shelves here were laden with crossbows, swords, and other weapons, whilst the rest of the space was dedicated to shields and armour. And so, I felt strong regret.
I questioned why an animal hunter would need to have so many weapons and outfits, but came up with the theory that it must have been a family collection passed down through generations. And now Chase was their possessor, since his parents weren't alive, whereas his youngest sibling had already been offered a long time ago.
I shifted closer to one shelf, which had a different size and material swords, but only the golden one snagged my attention the most. But the more I stared at it, the more my heart rate grew, the more I was paralyzed, the more I felt dread.
"This is Goldy," Chase announced, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I'd failed to notice him standing so close to me.
He hefted a sword by its hilt. I stepped back, for the first time obeying my instincts to stay away from the sword and the man holding it. "It's about two centuries old."
My eyes never left the shiny sword. Its gigantic and fascinating blade reflected my face, as if warning me I could be its next victim.
"That's a long time."
My voice hadn't come out brittle. I applauded myself in my mind. However, I couldn't tell the same about my quivering fingers, which I had covered behind my back.
He nodded. "It is." His forefinger brushed down the blade. My blood ran cold, but I didn't wrap my hands around myself to quell the shivers. "It's used for killing morphs."
I blinked twice. Three times. Chase's eyes moved from the sword to me, a hunter's smile playing on his thin lips.
I had to collect myself or else I might swoon.
"I thought they were immortal," I admitted.
He laughed, and I didn't understand what was so funny. "Morphs are stronger than us. They have powers humans could never dream of. It's a fable that morphs are immortals. They have a life span as we do, but they live longer than us, for about a thousand years unless someone thrusts the golden weapon into their heart and they're..." He swung the sword in the air with an attempt of showing off, and I backed away more. "...dead."
With another step back, my back hit something. I turned my head and faced the other shelf loaded with more golden weapons, such as knives, hatchets, daggers, and a collection of arrows. My inner voice was screaming at me to flee, but I stood stock-still with a thumping heart against my ribs.
"W-why do you have so many weapons that could kill a morph?" I turned my head to my fiancé, who had finished flaunting his swordplay.
Chase laughed. He didn't seem to catch the alteration in my voice or the pallor which must have painted my face.
"Aren't you too curious, Ely?" He put the sword back in its place. But I still felt tense, no matter if the fatal weapon wasn't in the hunter's hands anymore. It was still here, threatening to hurt me, potentially kill me.
But there was another one that caught my interest, too. Beyond Chase was hanging a longer and sharper sword of the colour of silver on the dull grey wall.
"Is that sword used for killing morphs as well?"
I couldn't compare the feelings that were simmering within me when I'd seen Goldy to the ones stimulated by this sword. As intimidating as it was as Goldy, the silver sword affected me differently. As if some child within my head cowered into the ball and shuddered. I couldn't understand why my blood curdled and why my body tensed at the sight of those specific swords, but not at the other ones in the armoury.
He followed my stare. "That?" He turned and slid closer to the wall. "It's for dragons."
Dragons. All I knew about them was from the bedtime stories Mum used to read to me.
In tales, dragons were depicted as fiends that were a danger to other living kinds. Their variety was boundless, but only the most powerful ones breathed lethal fire and could set the world on fire whenever they desired. However, dragons hadn't been seen for a long time, which implied they weren't among the living anymore. If it was true, and they were all gone, it was better for the world.
"What is it made of? Aren't gold weapons used to kill a dragon?"
"Gold doesn't kill dragons, Ely," he said in a rather patronising tone, but I was too interested in learning more about dragons to pick up on his speaking manner. "Only weapons covered in platinum do. It isn't as common as gold, though."
"But it doesn't matter because dragons don't exist anymore, right?"
Chase's doubtful expression didn't elude my eyes.
"You believe dragons are still alive."
"Enchanters obliterated them about ten years ago. They are all dead." But he seemed to convince himself more than me. "Even if some of them could still be alive, dragons aren't the worst creatures a human could cross his path with."
Chase knew quite a lot about other species, which was unlikely for any human, and it got me doubting his claimed profession. I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to hunt other species, and not just for the fun of it.
"And who is far worse than morphs or enchanters?"
"Half-breeds." His voice was scarcely audible. "Creatures who are a mix of both kinds. They are the ones any creature would fear the most in this world."
I was hearing about half-breeds for the first time. The possibility of someone existing who had morphs' powers to shapeshift and enchanters' powers to enchant and do only the Gods knew what else didn't sound appealing to me.
"How are enchanters killed?" I asked him, pushing the thoughts of half-breeds temporarily away.
"With iron."
"And what about half-breeds?"
An amusing smile pulled the corner of his mouth. "I don't think anybody apart from the Gods knows an answer to this question, Ely."
I surveyed the armoury yet again, endeavouring to rummage through my head in search of more questions to avoid Chase as long as I could, but he had already approached me. His hands were on me, but before he leaned in to kiss me, I spoke. "There's something I have to ask you."
"Questions later," he said, leaning closer. "Now, fun."
But I pressed my finger to his lips before they could reach my own. "I'll be quick. I promise."
The ominous shadow entering his eyes made my heartbeat quicken again. "What is it?"
His tone was just as intimidating as his stare. I tried to swallow the fright, fend it off to ask what I must.
"Can I borrow your horse for a few days?"
His eyes narrowed into slits. "What for?"
"For a trip to—"
"No."
I stared at him, but ignoring my mad heartbeat yet again, I tried. "Please. I would do anything."
"You were already going to do whatever I pleased before I showed you this room, Ely."
"Please, I—"
"No, Ely," he almost growled, his hands tightening on my hips. "Now hush your mouth. I don't want another sound escaping your throat if it doesn't involve pleasure."
He was close to smashing his disgusting lips against mine when I interrupted him again, "I'll do it."
He winced. "Do what?"
"You know what."
Chase's confused stare was buried in mine until his eyes lit and his mouth curved into an expectant smile. "Really?"
"Yes, if you lend me your horse for a few days."
His smile even broadened. I forced myself to smile, too.
"I'll lend you a horse, Ely." He planted a kiss on the corner of my lips and then whispered, "But if you don't give me a boy... consider your family homeless, my love."
Mum was reporting to me gossip she had heard in the town's market today. I found it hard to listen to her when I was drowning in my heart-aching thoughts while stirring a mixture in the bowl.
I was trying to be useful by helping her out in the kitchen. I needed to be useful for something since I'd been becoming more and more disappointed in myself lately. What was I even good for? I could only thank the good genes as apart from my beauty, I had nothing else to be proud of.
Squeezing the spoon tight, I glowered at the stirring mixture as if attempting to burn it. The poor dough had to put up with all my emotions I kept locked inside me under a gazillion of locks.
"Honey," Mum said, bringing me back to reality. I looked over my shoulder. She was standing on her tiptoes, trying to reach for a bottle filled with dark liquid. "Could you help your old mother?"
With a deep sigh, I paused my work. "You're not old." I approached her. Then I raised my hand and reached for the bottle with no effort. "Just don't put products where you can't reach them."
As I extended a bottle to her, I met her face, which had turned incredulously pale.
"Mum?"
Before I could trace what was happening, she grasped my wrist and pulled the sleeve up to my elbow. I attempted to yank my hand from her grip, but she held it with an impressive strength.
Her eyes were fixed on the blue and purple marks marring my bronze skin.
I didn't react or say anything.
Then she looked up at me. Puzzled and beyond concerned.
I playfully rolled my eyes. "It must have appeared after I hit the edge of the piano." I winced at the bruise. "Harder than I thought."
I met her unbending stare and held it while ignoring my conscience.
"Why are you lying to me?" Her voice was as mild as a caressing summer breeze and as brittle as a fallen thin branch.
She didn't believe my lie. She never did. My mother could read her children as easily as tales. And it got me wondering if I'd also be able to make out what was wrong with my future progeny as well.
But I didn't want to think about it. Not this way. Not ever.
"I'm not lying," I mustered a low but an assured reply.
She released my forearm and pulled away, shaking her head. "You are not marrying that man."
"What?" I frowned. "No, Chase didn't do it," I hastened to say. "I hurt myself by accident. I swear."
But she kept shaking her head, dodging all my words, refusing to believe my filthy lies.
She stepped towards me, close enough to bring my face into her warm and rough hands. "My dear, dear honeybee, you are worth so, so much more than him. Don't submit yourself to us. Life shouldn't be suffocating you but the opposite. You should breathe through it. You should swim through it. You should be happy."
"Mum, he's not—"
"Oh, cut the crap," she said fiercely, shocking me. It was, perhaps, the first time I'd heard my dearest mother using a dirty word. "You. Are. Not. Marrying. Him." Her steely voice sent shivers skidding down my spine. "You deserve better. A man who would never say a bad word about you, who would never, never lay a hand on you, who would treat you like a goddess. Mark my words, Elynn."
Tears were already leaking through, and I pressed my quivering lips together.
"You only live once. Don't waste your time on people who don't deserve it," she continued. "You're only nineteen, Elynn. There's a whole world ahead of you. Don't waste it on men like your arsehole fiancé or for saving your family. Live. Just live for yourself, for heavens' sake."
I endeavoured not to sob, not to falter before her, not to show weakness as I must stay strong and—
"Elynn, promise me you'll break off the engagement, and follow your dreams, live the life you want to live."
But my lips didn't part. I couldn't make a promise. At least, not from the bottom of my heart, as it would be yet another drop of a lie in the lake of thousands.
"Elynn." With her thumbs, she brushed the tears off my cheeks. "Promise me."
It was hard to lie to her, to my own mother. But I tried to put all my effort into my lying skills and do my best to fool her so she'd be relieved.
"I promise."
She studied me, seeking a lie. I kept my face straight and not averted my gaze.
Eventually, she sighed as if a heavy rock had slid off her chest and brought me into a tender, tight embrace. I buried my face in her shoulder. In secret, I coveted muscular arms holding me instead so that I could drown my face in someone's chest and succumb to sobs.