Isabella's hands were shaking, even as she held onto the book clutched between them. Her breathing had turned shallow, so she forced herself to calm down. It worked, although there was little clarity in her spiralling mind.
The drawings staring back at her seemed to burn a hole inside her chest, she could feel it growing, gaining strength as it ate away at anything of hers.
Slowly, she braced herself as the tip of her finger traced the wyrdmark, the same she had accidentally, mistakenly, unknowingly, drawn on the male's body. Realistically, she knew the etched ink held no power in itself, it was the blood and the will of the wielder who could exert the power of this type of magic. Still, the idea of her being able to manipulate a sorcery of such kind was ridiculous. Unexplainable. Absurd. Absolutely, and utterly illogical.
Nevertheless, the book had ended up in her hands, the wyrdmark had been carved on the male's skin despite her lack of knowledge, and she could now read what used to be blank pages.
Isabella knew, as well as the lines in her hands and the scars on them, that the world carried very little coincidences within it, and she had already run out of them. Therefore, she could only hope that whatever Gods were using her as their pawn, planned for nothing but greatness and happiness for her, and the rest of them.
For some reason, the idea of lying idle in the midst of a game with the heavens above made her restless. It made her itch until the urge to claw at her own skin became insufferable. And so with a new idea in mind -one that burned brighter than the stars and blinded more strongly than the sun- she clung tighter to the open book in her lap.
She brought it closer to her, even as she scanned the pages for what she was looking for. Once she did, she unsheathed the knife she now always carried with her -even in her sleep- and pricked the skin on the tip of her finger until she drew blood. Crimson as ever, she stared at it before pressing her wound on the clean and recently healed skin of her wrist. She stole one more glance at the book before drawing a sign on her own flesh.
At first, nothing happened. Then, a gentle light emerged from the mark, and as it deemed, her skin began to burn.
Studying the reaction manifested on her flesh, she snatched her pen and ink -courtesy of Rowan's, who had insisted buying it to her after they had left Killax's- and scribbled notes on the margin of one of the book's pages.
It was written with her quick, inattentive handwriting. It was merely three words that would later on become part of the book itself, magic as all knowledge was; it read,
discere est dolent
to learn is to ache.
She repeated the words, chanted them, as she worsened her wound and used her blood to draw more wyrdmarks, not completely unaware -even though she wanted- of the pain they caused in her.
-
Lorcan knew Rowan was happy. There was a jovial strout to his steps, a tugging smile at his lips, a twinkle in his eyes, and a tilt to his voice.
It was quite the horrendous sight, he had to admit to himself.
The male who had been his friend for centuries was beaming with happiness like the sun high in the sky. His good could not be evaporated no matter how hard he tried. And the Gods knew how much he had.
Because for all he loved Rowan -to which he would deny till the end of his long days-, there was nothing he found as annoying as happy people. Regardless of the reasons behind their moods.
So as Rowan sang lowly to himself -and for everyone's disgrace, swayed his hips to the rhythm of whatever it was he was muttering to himself- Lorcan pushed him from behind. The male did not fall, of course not, he was a trained warrior after all, but he did stumble. Which was proof enough of how distracted he had been.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Rowan seethed.
He shrugged, "Your good mood was annoying me"
His friend rolled his eyes, "For fuck's sake" He returned to his task at hand, which was basically overseeing as the soldiers engaged in a controlled sword-fight with each other, and correct their mistakes in order for them to improve. Most of them were little fuckers, so Lorcan wanted very little to know with them.
He crossed his hands over his chest and pretended to survey the training. He nudged Rowan with his shoulder. "What?" His friend hissed.
Lorcan looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Are you not going to tell me the cause behind your uncharacteristic good mood?" He drew in a flat tone.
At that, he saw as a wide number of emotions play behind Rowan's eyes, and how his friend tried to control the smile threatening to bloom and show all of his teeth and fangs in a non-but-very-much-so savage way.
Lorcan's nostrils flared, "You truly are disgusting when you are happy,"
"That's because you were born with a frown on your face,"
He almost howled at that, "Maybe" He told him, as he felt his lips curving in a small smile. "So, what is it?" He insisted.
Rowan blinked. "What is what ?"
He glared at him, "Do not play dumb with me, I'm not Fenrys"
His friend snorted, "Certainly not,"
Lorcan wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he spat what was on his mind. "Alright," He imperceptibly moved closer to his side so the sound of their voices wouldn't be loud enough for those with a sharp hearing around them to listen. "You can tell me,"
Rowan stole a glance his way from the corner of his eye, "I'll like some privacy, Lorcan"
He grinded his teeth before clenching his jaw in resignation. He clapped his hands together, loud enough for the soldiers around them to snap out of their fights, and Lorcan had to contain the curse threatening to leave his lips, they were so easy to distract it was embarrassing. "Alright, everyone!" He called.
"What are you doing?" Rowan hissed through gritted teeth.
Lorcan ignored him as he eyed the quick grouping soldiers with a graveness he knew would make them wary. Lucky for them, the only purpose of his -for the moment- was to hear what his friend had to say.
So he nodded as the last of the soldiers fell in line before clasping his hands behind his back and straightening his back. "You'll be happy to hear that you are clear for the rest of the day. Enjoy your break," Joyous whispers broke the silence they often fell under in his presence. "But you all better have improved for tomorrow, otherwise I'll make sure to tire you until you'll wish you were resting one metre underground"
That shut them fast enough, and they saluted accordingly before they scattered around. Soon, they were left alone, with metres of grass as their only companions to their current solitude.
He turned in his heels to face Rowan, and found him frowning; his arms crossed over his broad -but not broader than his- chest. "That was unnecessary,"
He raised an eyebrow in his direction, and didn't try very hard to feign innocence. "Was it?" He shrugged. "I thought you said you wanted company, am I not a good friend for making your wishes come true?"
"You are a pain in the ass, that's what you are"
Lorcan cocked his head to the side, contemplating. "But one of the good types of pain in the arse, that's for sure"
Rowan groaned against the hands covering his face in exasperation. "Don't start"
He raised his hands in surrender, "I will not. As long as you quit your bullshit and tell me what has positively gotten into you"
Rowan shook his head, "Everyone may complain about Fenrys' nosy ass, but you are definitely better" He shot him a look. "You are just better at hiding it"
Lorcan flashed him a smile he knew was dripping with smugness. "I'm often better at everything"
He choked a laugh at his words, "Now, what has gotten into you ? I know for a fact you are highly aware of your mediocrity"
"Please, you wish you were as good as me"
To his surprise, Rowan looked even smugger than he did as the smile on his face widened with every passing second. "I do not,"
He eyed his friend from head to toe, "Is that right? Why not?" And then he added, for good measure. "You should, thought"
Rowan's smile did not deem. In fact, it had only grown, which made Lorcan shift on his feet because the sight was quite scary. His friend looked maniac. Happiness did not look good on everyone.
"I had a date," Rowan almost sang.
Lorcan tried not to let the surprise show on his face. "Truly?" Rowan nodded. "A real one? Not one that happened only in your head, then?" He laughed as the male growled and shoved him back playfully.
"Remind me again why I even bother being friends with you," Rowan snapped -though the sound carried no real anger, and the words were weightless-, his gaze focused on something over his shoulder.
He smoothed the wrinkles of his black shirt. "Because I've saved your ass more than once"
"So have I,"
He shrugged, amused with their friendly and familiar banter. Sometimes he did not realise how much he missed it -how much he needed it- until they were already at it. "But I am still better at it than you,"
Rowan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as his shoulders slumped with defeat. "Maybe," He conceded, the bastard.
"I'll make sure to remind you of that for the rest of your life, but now, I'd actually like to hear about your date"
Rowan opened his mouth to speak, the curves of his lips instantly tugging upward into what he knew would be an impossible-to-contain-smile, when they were interrupted by a high pitched voice he would recognize even if he were deaf, for he felt it deep inside himself every time the speaker talked.
"Did someone say date ?" Fenrys' appearance should not have surprised him. The male did, after all, seem to have a sixth sense for gossip. Still, he could not help but groan at their interruption, even if he was a little impressed. "As in, a real date?"
Rowan scoffed at that, "Why does everyone keep asking that?" He sounded suddenly defensive.
Fenrys did not hold back with his answer, his tone one of an adult speaking with a child. "Because we've heard you talk in your sleep" Then, he pulled his lips together and exaggerated the sound of kissing as he continued speaking. " Oh, Isabella, you are so pretty. Isa, I'm so glad you liked my cooking. Shall we go to that shop, I'm sure you'll love it there, Isa " He had mimicked Rowan's voice and repeated some of the many sentences his friend had spoken while dreaming, deeply asleep.
His Royal Highness' cheeks tinted with the lightest of pinks as he threw himself at Fenrys, the two of them ending on the floor.
"Help! Somebody help me! He's trying to kill me" Fenrys yelled from the top of his lungs as he lay on his back on the floor.
"Stop being a crybaby I'm just messing with you," Rowan told him from his place on top of him, his tone one that revealed he knew of the youngest male's tactics.
"Messing with me?" Fenrys repeated loudly, his face incredulous. "Your hands are around my neck!" He accused.
"But I'm not squeezing it, am I?" He responded, with a self-satisfied smile.
"Agh!" Fenrys complained as he shoved Rowan's hands away, and the male complied by standing up as his body shook with laughter. Fenrys' eyes narrowed on Lorcan -who was not doing a good job of hiding his own chuckles- and stood up while he dusted off his clothes and arranged his hair until he was clearly satisfied.
"This is so not what I expected when I heard about your date," Boyo grumbled as he finished smoothing his pants.
"You mean, when you eavesdropped. Again " Lorcan corrected him.
He waved him off, indifferent to his words. "Semantics. I loath semantics"
"Because you like to twist words to your own benefit,"
"Because I love getting my way," Fenrys said, his words accompanied by a saccharine smile and a wink in his direction. Lorcan scoffed and looked away. Rowan merely chuckled. "Anyway, tell us everything about your date" He added, as he rubbed his hands together in delight at what was to come. He reminded Lorcan of a pup with a new toy.
Rowan blushed, and Lorcan groaned loudly. "There is not really much to tell,"
"Bullshit," Fenrys and Lorcan said at the same time.
He shrugged, then, looking almost shy. And damn if the sight didn't make Lorcan shiver in horror.
"Well, last night, when I went back to our tent after speaking with Orion, I found the place empty. Normally, I panicked" He rolled his eyes at that. His friend continued, "Luckily, she appeared not long after. But she had been visibly attacked-"
"What?!" Fenrys yelled, at the same time Lorcan's hands fisted at his side and he managed to choke out through his rising anger, "Who the fuck did that?"
Rowan nodded, his eyes sombre. It was clear that even the reminder of the sight of Isabella hurt was enough to darken his mood. Lorcan didn't imagine the shift in the air, the rising roaring of the wind before he went on. "Not to worry, she handled it herself. So well, in fact, that she killed him before he could do any real damage to her," There was such palpable pride in his voice, so much respect and contentment shining in his eyes.
Lorcan whistled, incredibly impressed. And if it was also pride what warmed his chest, he didn't dare admit it. "It was about time, I knew she had it in her"
"We should throw her a party to celebrate," Fenrys nodded enthusiastically. Both Rowan and Lorcan shut his idea down immediately. The young male merely pouted at the rejection.
"So, needless to say, I helped her get rid of the body in the middle of the night,"
"Romantic," The wolf called with a sigh.
"I'm sure it was a night she'll never forget,"
Rowan shrugged, looking way too pleased with himself.
"But-" Lorcan began, much to his friend's dismay. "I don't think that counts as a date"
Rowan looked suddenly alarmed before he shut his feelings down and his face was masked with a blank expression.
Fenrys shook his head in disagreement. "Of course it counts! It's the beginning of a legendary love story,"
He couldn't help but sigh as he rubbed his temples. It wasn't possible that out of all of them, he was the one who had to explain this. Him . Lorcan, who had only ever had one serious relationship; who had only fallen in love once, and had done nothing with his feelings other than hide them in fear of- well, it didn't matter.
"Listen," He began, slowly, as if he were talking with children. "I want you two to be together," He told Rowan, whose face had remained frozen in its closedness. "But you cannot possibly count that as a date. If you want one, you have only to ask. I do believe she'd say yes,"
"She would not," Rowan said through a clenched jaw. His eyes were far away. Perhaps in a land where all love was requited, and there was no dread in feeling.
"I know you will never find out until you try," He tried to say with as much care as he could. It pained him to have to speak such cruel reality to his friend, but he did not want him to find joy in a lie. A delusion. Lorcan would never want that for him, for he knew what it was like. He had lived like that for decades, now.
"I-" Rowan tried to speak, but failed. He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. His hands were trembling with the force of contained emotion, and the sight broke something inside of him. There were heartbreaks that were unbearably painful. Heartbreaks impossible to recover from; heartbreaks that could rip one heart's in pieces and function only as a ghost of what it once was.
"I can't ," He forced himself to say. He swallowed, and unshed tears shimmered in his eyes even as his cheeks remained dry. "I have already been rejected once. I do not think I can endure a second. Not from her."
Lorcan had never been empathic. He had never cared much for others in his life, he had never bothered with others until he had found Rowan, Fenrys, and Gavriel. He had never cherished bonds as much as he cherished the ones that tied him to his friends. His only friends. And so the pain that was now threatening to shatter Rowan felt familiar to Lorcan, and it endangered him too, for he felt his friend's ache as if it were his.
"It's alright," Fenrys whispered to Rowan, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Forget he said a thing, we both know Lorcan is no expert on love"
Lorcan knew he was joking, trying to lighten the mood, seeking laughter in the face of sorrow with a mastered weapon used for humour.
Still, the comment twisted his stomach until everything inside of him hurt.
"Right," He told them, flatly, an achievement accomplished by the strength of his pure will. "Ignore me"
Rowan shook his head, and straightened his shoulders. He rubbed the back of his neck. "No, you are right. Ever since I've met her I have done nothing but rejoice in delusion and live for impossible dreams. It is tiring, and I'm exhausted. I believe it is time for me to erase all fantasy from my mind, in order to lose all self-deception" He smiled, and it was a tight, forced sight. "Only then will I be able to see past my own illusions. It'll be for the best,"
Lorcan opened his mouth to speak, although he was not sure of what words he could utter to bring comfort to his friend. He was, after all, in quite a similar -worse- situation.
But he did not remain for longer, for Rowan left them soon after, and then there were only two.
"I hope you are happy with yourself," Fenrys told him from his place next to him. They were both staring at where Rowan had disappeared to, but even in such a position, Lorcan knew Fenrys' sole attention was on him.
So he did not spare him a look as he said, "Why would I?"
"You just broke that poor male's heart," He shrieked, and only he could make that sound and still sound accusing.
"He broke his own heart long before me,"
"Oh, and you would know because you are an expert in the matters of the heart, are you not?" Fenrys turned, then, and his narrowed eyes burnt a hole in Lorcan's chest.
He crossed his arms over his chest so the young male would not be able to notice the trembling of his hands, the force with which he was restraining himself from- from;
Lorcan sighed, "Can you not do this right now?" He murmured, it sounded too much like a plea to his own ears.
"Ha!" The wolf jeered. There was a frown on his handsome face and lines around his eyes. "Why am I not surprised? You never want to talk, never want to face your-"
"Stop" He ordered, his voice louder than he had intended. Harsher. He rubbed at his temples as he tried to find the words he should say and not the ones he wanted to speak. "I'm tired, and the past is the past. I cannot understand why you can't let it go"
Of course he could understand, for he couldn't let it go either. But their reasons were different, and perhaps that was why he often drowned in agony.
" Fine, " He snapped, and it was only centuries of training that allowed Lorcan not to flinch at the stiffness that that one single word conveyed. He did not stop him as he turned on his heels and left him behind. All alone. Again.
Lorcan cursed, his face to the skies, his eyes closed in concentration; his heart buried in a land of ghosts that stirred his present even if they belonged in the past.
There had once been a time in his life when he had thought happiness could be his, when he had been deceived into believing that love -the kind that was strong enough to raise armies and build empires- was something tangible that could belong to him in the safety of somebody else's arms.
But that had been long ago. Before his own shadow betrayed him and shattered the pieces of devotion that had made him stronger.
He shivered at the memory of warm lips leaving a trail of wet kisses on his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. As the phantom of a hand entwined with his tugged at him, as the weight of his body on top of his as they moved in sync, now threatened to bring him to his knees and leave him breathless.
All Lorcan had was the echo of what once was, and the ache of what could not be.
Usually, he could behave as if he were not just half of a soul. Sometimes, however, he could do nothing but wait for the worst of his pain to pass, so he could recover and go back to pretending.
Rowan had said it was tiring. His friend was right.
It was so tiring that sometimes he did not want to wake up. So exhausting that most days he could barely bring himself to eat. So draining that he often wondered how he was still standing.
Rowan thought he was alone in his pain, he thought that he would probably not survive it, he was sure he would not be able to bear it for much longer; but, regarding that, his friend was wrong.
He would survive it, he would tolerate it, and one day everyone would forget why he was aching in the first place. He did only need to look at Lorcan, he was proof enough of his words, even if nobody knew it. Even if they were all unaware of the reason behind it.
Lorcan took a breath, and went on.
-
Isabella stared at the new bruises on her arm, and the fresh scars. They were uniformed, of different shades, and irritating.
She could count with one hand what she had learnt, and already she felt like a break was needed. Already the pain was weakening her purpose, and rotting her will.
She glanced at the book in front of her, at the next wyrdmarks she ought to study, but her current arm would be useless if she continued to use it. So she covered it with the sleeve of her shirt, and uncovered her other arm. It was unmarked.
Isabella had just gripped the knife once again when the opening of her tent rustled, and Rowan stepped inside. She thanked the gods for the fact that her knife was remarkably small, and that she managed to hide it under her tights without looking suspicious.
Still, a small crease formed in between Rowan's brows as he inspected her from head to toe, then his gaze strayed to the open book in her lap, and she felt herself begin to panic. Instinctively, she opened her mouth to say something, anything, for she was not sure what lie she could sprout to explain the reality of her situation.
Nevertheless, Rowan beat her to it. "What are you doing?"
"I-"
His eyebrows shot upward, "I'm sorry, were you going to write?"
She forced herself not to look confused, "Something like that,"
His gaze went back to the book, and she prayed his sharp eyesight was not good enough for him to read the names of the wyrdmarks she had been about to test, even if from his place the drawings were uncommonly noticeable.
"I'll never understand why Killax gifted you a blank book," He said, so oblivious that Isabella's mouth fell open.
She recomposed quickly, and feigned nonchalance. Her shoulders went up and down in a shrug. "Who can really understand anything he does?"
Rowan snorted at that, a shake to his head as he took a couple of steps further into the tent. "You are right,"
Isabella eyed once again the book in her possession, stared intently at the drawings, the words, the margins and her handwriting. Her head snapped up to where Rowan stood, his back was to her. He seemed to be going over his belongings. Nothing about his demeanour seemed false or wary, but Isabella could not help but feel the need to be cautious.
"Maybe he was expecting you to fill it in," He said from his place.
"Maybe," She agreed, distractedly. Her attention was on the book, and it remained there even as she picked it up and stood up. She walked to Rowan's side, and found him folding his clothes into perfect squares of the same size. Huh. "I was thinking..."
"Mhm," He made the sound to notify her that he was listening, despite the fact that his sole focus appeared to be on his clothes, and the need for all the folds to be isometric.
"And I was wondering if you could try to teach me the tongue of the thorns," Her words had his head snapping up, his eyes now solely on hers. Isabella leaned a bit closer to his side, enough that his warmth penetrated her clothes, and brought comfort to her mind. She could have sworn even her wrenching arm subdued in its ache. "I'd like to be as prepared as possible," It was a confession offered in the middle of an operation.
They were borrowing time in an era of unavoidable, impending wars. They had begun her training after her request, but she knew now that they would have found a way to teach her how to defend herself even if she had not asked, for they knew that the chances of something happening in their absence grew as rapidly as the number of the dead.
Rowan's history and geography lessons were wide and detailed, but she knew that even after all the knowledge she had acquired, it was not enough. Renelle had used her magic to have her master the common tongue in mere minutes, as if she were a native. But there were more languages to explore, more places to study, more stories to discover, and more holes to unveil. The recent events that she had been a main part of were clear signs of it. They urged her to act, and to blind fate as she controlled it.
She needed more. She wanted more.
And Isabella could not think of a different -or more convenient- start but with the leaning of tongues.
Rowan had once explained to her that the common tongue had been created as a medium of communication between the Fae -who in the past were only speakers of the Old Language- and the humans -whose tongues were simpler and diverse-. With the birth of the imparting of information, bonds between tribes and kingdoms had started the rise of globalisation -heavily accentuated by the self-imposed seclusion of the Witches- until the divulgence of languages became a second-nature. The Fae learned -and even adopted- human tongues and mortals remained in ignorance regarding the Old Language.
Even if most found it an inconvenience, or believed the knowledge of multiple tongues to be useless, Isabella knew the power that came with the speaking of a foreign tongue. Not only it facilitated the skill of deceiving but also the expertise of manipulation. People were known for revealing secrets in the face of strangers if they believed to be shielded by the nature of their tongue and the incomprehension of a non-speaker.
She knew that all kingdoms were wielders of different speeches, and that while the Fae often adjusted to the relatively young tongue of Wendlyn and Doranelle, they were fluent in many of the languages and dialects bred by humans. The tongue of the thorns, on the other hand, was known to be the speech of the folk, older than time, and more lost than Isabella's mind.
And unlike the Old Language of the Fae, it could be spoken even by those whose blood was as ordinary and dull as the magicless children; for it was the tongue of the earth, the whispers of the wind, the carrying of the water and the burning of a fire.
Words were magic in itself, they carried power and working. She could barely imagine what she could do if she spoke the tongue of the thorns, how it could possibly be combined with the wyrdmarks in her possession...How an irreplaceable weapon it could be. And she wanted it to be hers.
"I am aware that it may prove to be useless, but-"
"Why?" It was a simple question, but one she could not bring herself to answer with honesty.
"I find it interesting," She grabbed a pair of pants from his backpack and helped him fold them, exactly the way she had noticed he liked it. "You told me once it was the language of the world, that it had existed when very few things did, and that it had once been believed to be the tongue of peace," She stopped her work to look him in the eye. She found him staring at her with an expression in his eyes she could not determine with a word she knew of. "Don't you think it ought to be spoken again?"
"It is a forgotten tongue, Isa," He leaned on the small table he had placed the night before and still not taken back. One of his big hands was sprawled there, supporting most of his weight, while the other lay on his hip. She found the position entirely attractive, so much, in fact, that she looked down at the pile of clothes. "The only reason why I speak it is because all members of the royal family were forced to endure lessons for it,"
She dared a quick look in his direction, "Does that mean your cousins speak it, too?"
He snorted, unimpressed. "Of course not. They were all too restless or uninterested to actually learn"
Her mouth quivered to the side due to the contained smile she was struggling to keep in check. "Are you saying you were a little nerd?"
His eyes narrowed playfully on hers, "I do not know the meaning of that word. Is it as otherworldly as yourself?" Those words in his mouth sounded too much like a compliment.
She shrugged only one of her shoulders. "Maybe," She grabbed another piece of cloth to keep her hands busy. "I could teach you many words just as that if you taught me the tongue of thorns"
Rowan laughed, and it warmed her chest to know it was not at her, but rather in amusement for her. "When did you become such a tenacious thing?" There were wrinkles around his eyes caused by the smile he wore. She found she liked that very much.
"I've always been one,"
"Oh, you are right," He stood straight and tugged at her ponytail. "I still remember when you forced all of us to apologise," He chuckled, and the sound sent vibrations all over her spine.
Isabella smacked his arm and sat on the floor. "Does that mean you'll teach me?"
He seemed to consider her words thoroughly as he rubbed his recent stubble. "I wish I could, but I don't think I'll have enough time now that a group of Novyk have been spotted in the east of the sea, too close to our shores for our liking,"
She stood up abruptly at that, "When was this?" She demanded.
"I was informed of it early this morning," He sighed. It was well past noon now.
"But-" She tried not to allow fear to control her as she hugged herself. "What is to happen now? What should we do? I didn't hear anything at all, was there an announcement that I missed?" She had spent all day inside the tent, it was possible she had failed to hear something at all.
Rowan shook his head, and paced the small place. "We have already sent more soldiers to the shore to protect and contain the fort in case of an attack, only those that were dispatched are aware of the news -apart from you and I, of course- and it must remain that way. The least we should want is for everyone to grow anxious with uncertainty" She nodded to everything he said. At last, he stopped walking and rested his hands on his hips. "For now, we will do as usual, we have no reason to believe that they will attack. They could be merely studying the surroundings for all we know, so it is unnecessary to worry when nothing is certain"
She cleared her throat so her words would not come as merely a whisper. "And what if they do?" His tired eyes were on her, and she did not need to see her reflection in his gaze to know she looked quite panicked. "What if they decided to attack? What then?"
"Then we better pray the soldiers stationed in the shore are enough,"
"And if they are not?"
He shook his head, "Lorcan and I should be more than enough,"
She wanted to say more, but Rowan didn't, for he picked the book she had left abandoned due to their conversation and studied it with the same interest one would a fallen leaf.
The sight reminded her of another step of her mission. Since she could not ask him directly if he could see the writing of the book -for she would not only sound crazy, even if he believed her, but she would also have to explain what the book contained- she opted for another approach.
Isabella picked up the pen she had left discarded in her bedroll. She took steps that led her closer to him, until she was by his side. She offered him the pen she had gifted her not long ago, and smiled up at him.
"I know you said you won't have enough time, and I understand," He appeared to be going through mixed emotions as he pursed his lips, even if his eyes remained gentle. "But could you at least write your name in it?"
His eyes never strayed from hers as he spoke, "And what would you do with it?"
A half-smile tugged at her lips, "I just want to see it written,"
Rowan sighed, then nodded. "Okay,"
"Okay?"
"Yes, give me that pen,"
She did not even try to hide the smile his words generated on her. She handed him the pen, and waited eagerly as he passed a page where the wardmarls were bigger, for each of them occupied a whole page, and clear descriptions were settled on the rest of the space. From the corner of her eye, she studied Rowan's expression, and came to the conclusion that his face betrayed no emotion. He looked indifferent. Oblivious. Unmindful of the ink in front of him.
He brought the pen to the page and wrote a series of letters that appeared to be more signs than an ordinary typing. Characters and symbols were united until they created something beautiful, but as soon as Rowan had finished writing, the ink disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. They were erased by themselves.
Isabella noticed the frown on his face, and the way his eyes went from the page to the pen. "Is this working?"
She held her breath, "Yes, I used it merely minutes ago"
His eyes remained fixed on the pen, "Maybe it needs more ink, would you bring it for me?" She did, and even as the pen was freshly filled, Rowan's pattern of letters vanished as soon as they were done.
"It's obviously not working," Rowan stated, flatly. Perhaps a bit annoyed. "Don't worry, I'll get you another one," He reassured her.
She considered declining his offer, but in the end, nodded. She already had her answers, anyway.
The book's contents were only visible to her.
-
It took Isabella three days to finally be done with one section of the wyrdmarks, and by the time she had finished, both of her arms were so deeply wounded that she could barely lift them up. Which was a great inconvenience, for her training required her to be in constant movement, in flow with all of her body.
Needless to say, those three days had been painful.
And so when the fourth day arrived, she had been quite excited to leave that small chapter of the book behind. In her free time, she had busied herself by mindlessly reading some of the other pages of the book; only to come across Rowan's words.
They were there, etched on the page in his elegant handwriting. Isabella could not understand why, however, for they were on a completely different page to where he had written them, and strongly visible despite the fact that she had seen them vanish -and he had never seen them at all-.
Even so, she read and read the words. She thought they were quite long to be just his name, but same words in different languages often varied in length depending on the tongue's alphabet, so she let the thought escape her.
She traced the words with the tip of her fingers, and momentarily wondered what could happen if she traced them with her blood, when the words faded until they were unreadable, and reformed into ones in a foreign language she had recently become acquainted with.
Veritas vos liberabit.
The truth will set you free.
-
Isabella could not find an explanation to the words spoken by the book. She knew, for some indecipherable reason, that Rowan had not written them, so they could not be a translation to what he had committed to the paper.
The unknown bothered her.
-
Rowan stared at the green hills and the trees through the window of the Banjali's castle. He detested the place, and yet he always found himself coming back to it, whether because it was the fate of a warrior, or that of a royal, he did not know.
With his hands crossed behind his back, but his eyes focused on all the beyond from the outside, he listened to Orion's voice.
"There has been no reports from the Shores of the Skull in the last five days, I believe we ought to send a small group to investigate and report back,"
"Have you considered that perhaps the reason why the first group we sent has not answered back will keep a second group from reporting back, too?" Gavriel told the male, his voice kind and open to hear solutions, yet firm and strong.
"What else could we do? Our ways of communication have been deadly silent since the first report, and we have yet to come up with a new way to relay messages"
"Do not bring the name of Death into this," Lorcan snapped, his words curt. "You will only call for him and have him rain on us"
Orion's hands went up in the air in exasperation, although Rowan could notice that it was mostly fear what fueled his state. "He will be falling upon us sooner or later if we do not take action. We need to know what is going on in the shores, it is no coincidence that the Novyk happened to be close to it"
"No," Rowan agreed. "That's obvious"
Orion seemed both relieved and terrified by his words. "They are planning an attack,"
"It's probably already in motion, if the lack of reports is any indication" Fenrys said from his place on a chair.
A round, wooden table took most of the space in the room made completely out of stones. Tapestries hung from the walls, one with the image of the map of Wendlyn and Doranelle, another with Rowan's family crest -a sigil of a white, flying hawk, and the outline of a crown with the kingdom's mantra-, and others that represented different times of their history. Six matching chairs were scattered around the table, whose base was filled with a medium sized map of all Banjali. It even had texture and was embossed with accurate buildings and all lakes and caves.
"Then we must ring the alarm, alert everyone and be ready" Orion's words were reasonable. And yet...
"No," Rowan's voice rang loud with its order.
Orion's eyes grew wide, "What-?"
Lorcan's eyes found Rowan's, and the male cooked his head to the side. His friend's curt nod was all the response needed.
"We will not alert anyone of the possible attack,"
"I believe you mistook the word 'possible' for 'impending'" Orion corrected, his jaw clenched in barely contained anger.
Rowan stared at the male lazily, through hooded eyes that conveyed nothing but utter boredom. "I did not,"
"But why ?" Orion practically screamed. Sweat shone in his brow.
"Because I say so," He drawled, slowly.
"That makes no sense, if we do not ready ourselves we will be in disadvantage, no good will come from it"
"Perhaps," Gavriel interrupted, his tone laced with severity. "We ought to consider an alternative,"
"What alternative?" Orion yelled, his skin pale from the terror he was handling, and now the aggravation caused by his orders. "Have you all gone crazy? There is no alternative, we must prepare and fight,"
"We will fight," Rowan agreed with a nod. "But there shall be no warning,"
"Why? Why would we-?"
But he did not get to finish his sentence, for the loud sound of an explosion interrupted their peace. Shouts came from outside through the window, and the doors to the room were thrown wide open as the guards outside entered and joined in the chaos.
Orion looked wildly around, his hands were gripping the border of the table, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. Rowan sidestepped him as he barely glanced in his direction. He knew the rest were following, for he could feel their presence close to him. Years of fighting alongside each other had acquainted them to a normalcy in which they were one mind divided in four different bodies.
They ran through the halls of the castle, past soldiers leaving their positions and bolting through the gates. Outside, he watched as trained warriors succumbed to panic and fed the mayhem. They were running from one place to the other, swords unsheathed and tightly gripped. The healers, who Rowan knew were always prepared and in the healing wing of the castle and also positioned close to the soldiers' tent -and where, hopefully, Isabella had listened to him and would remain there until the attack passed-, were nowhere to be seen.
The soldiers stationed in the walls of the fortress were screaming for reinforcements, and he could feel the beatings the magical shield was resisting. That caught his attention, for he had thought they would attack from the shores, not from the woods. Interesting. He decided to save that information for later analysis, and focused his attention on the field.
A shining light caught his attention from the corner of his eye, but he did not bother turning his head, for he knew where it was coming from. In response to its fade, a massive golden-brown mountain lion with the tawny eyes roared and charged for the walls, climbing it with its paws and gigantic claws. A slightly smaller wolf joined him, and together they reached the highest point of the walls. Soldiers around them scattered to make room for them.
Rowan glanced once in Lorcan's direction before shifting to his animal form. As he took fly and left him behind, he managed to hear him mutter, "Yes, yes, I 'll take the fucking stairs,"
He didn't even bother reaching the floor of the fort before shifting to his humanoid form. A soldier gawked at him, but he ignored him as he walked to the border of the wall and looked to the other side. A group of Novyk had their hands raised, palms glowing with their magic, and Rowan understood they were using counter-magic to try and weaken their fort.
In the trees, hidden fae were shooting arrows on fire and aiming at the chests of the soldiers. He raised a single eyebrow at the scene, this was why they were all screaming and running around? Soldiers nowadays had grown too soft.
A warrior on his side fell to his knees as he clutched an arrow piercing his shoulder. Rowan waved a hand and his wind turned the fire of the arrow off. The male could deal with the rest on his own.
Just as he looked up, he caught one of the sticks with his bare hands, it had come close to his head, but it held no threat as he broke it down in two and threw the now useless sticks to the Novyk wielding their magic. One of the sticks even smacked one in the head. He might have used a bit of his magic to manage that.
Lorcan reached his side and stared boredly at the scene, "Well, I'll admit I'm kind offended by this pathetic attempt"
"Yeah, it looks too easy, doesn't it?"
The male shot him a look, " Too easy, perhaps"
"Indeed," He agreed.
"I'll take care of the ones oat the front, you can deal with the monkeys in the trees"
Rowan nodded, and he willed a strong wind to come roaring from behind at the same time that Lorcan's darkness curled dangerously in his hands before he directed it at the group in front of the gates, and shadows engulfed them. Immediately, their attacks against the magical shield stopped, and their screams grew loud with each passing second.
He strengthened the power of his wind until it was strong enough to have the shooters from the trees falling down to the floor from their spots. Rowan spared only one of them as he cut their air supply from his place. They choked, their eyes growing wide and their weapons falling from their hands as they brought them to their necks. It took less than a minute for them to fall dead on the floor. Except for one.
Lorcan's blackness dissipated only to reveal the limp corpses left in its trail on the floor. Black markings that reminded Rowan of veins covered the dead bodies, and a look of horror and pain was still tugging at the lines in their faces, freezing that expression forever. Similar ones were worn by the bodies left behind by Rowan.
He turned on his heels and inspected the guards. "Those of you who were stupid enough to get injured, go to the healing wing in the castle. The rest of you, clean this mess and report back to your positions," The order ran true and was met by the obedience of everyone.
Lorcan was still staring at the bodies of those they had murdered when he commented, "You forgot about one,"
Rowan looked over his shoulder to the male he had spared. He was frozen in his place, too dumb -or maybe too smart- to try and run away. "I didn't. We need intel,"
"Huh," Lorcan huffed.
Fenrys growled lowly, and jumped from the high fort and landed perfectly on his four legs. He prowled to the male slowly, his teeth bared and a grumble coming from deep within his chest. He barked at him, and grabbed his leg with his sharp teeth just as the male finally tried to stand up and run. Boyo dragged him back, while the male screamed. They disappeared through the gates.
"Sir!" An unknown soldier called erratically.
Both Rowan and Lorcan turned in his direction, "What?"
"We have been informed that there's been an another attack,"
Rowan's whole body stiffened at that, "Where?" He snarled.
"Inside the camp, they arrived from the shores. They-"
"Where are they now?" He cut him off, already dreading his answer.
"Last report claims they were close to the soldiers' tents, and heading to the healing-"
Rowan did not stay to listen to the rest, he had heard enough. He shifted to his animal form and left them behind. He flew, and used his wind to speed him up. He needed to get there before they got to her.
-
Isabella heard the screams before she truly registered what was happening. The healers shot to their feet as the yells coming from outside began.
She looked around, at the poles in the middle of the place containing the tent, at the empty rows of beds and the nightstands to their sides, at the flaming tears contained in jars illuminating the entire space, and at the tables in all corners that were filled to the brim with bandages and jugs of all sizes and colours.
Everyone's attention snapped to the entrance of the tent as a soldier covered in blood limped inside. He was gripping a wound where his arm should be, but there was nothing there. Just blood sprouting from where he had once had a matching arm.
Louisa, a petite female with blinding white hair and a thin, pale complexion, was the first one to come to his aid. She guided him to one of the beds and shouted orders to the rest of the healers, who did not even have time to comply before more warriors barged inside.
Isabella stared at the scene, and faintly realised that the screams coming from outside were accompanied by the sound of swords halting against each other and moans of pain.
A female warrior fell on one of the empty beds, and she cried for help as she tried to stop the blood coming from a wound in her stomach. The female locked eyes with Isabella, and repeated, "Help!"
She wanted to tell her that she had little to no knowledge in the art of healing, but a quick look around confirmed that all healers were preoccupied with other patients, and they were out of their depths as more and more kept coming.
She was out of options, so she walked to the female and stared at the ripped, infected flesh of her stomach, at the peering organs and all the blood coming from it. Isabella did not allow herself time to doubt her actions as she ran to one of the tables and grabbed bandages and bottles of alcohol.
She returned to the female's side and poured the contents of the bottle on straps of gauze she had cut with her hands. She pressed it to the female's wound and tried to clean it the best she could. The fae cursed and hissed through her teeth at her ministrations.
"What happened?" She asked her, trying to distract the female from her pain, and also to learn of the incidents that had led to this. Even if she had a good idea of who was behind it.
"The Novyk, they-" She began, and stopped abruptly to whimper as Isabella pressed a new wet gauze to her tear flesh. "They came out of nowhere. From the shores, we didn't know-"
Isabella had heard enough, and centred her attention on the lesion. The female was losing too much blood, she needed her flesh to be sewn back together before she died of blood loss. Her head snapped up to try to catch one of the healers' gaze, for it was one thing to clean a wound, and another to suture an injury.
But they were all too busy, all drowning in their own patients, going from one bed to the other, blood in their hands and aprons. None of them were in a position to attend to the female in Isabella's care.
Her eyes fixed on the wound, and then on the female's eyes. Her whole face was constrained in pain, but still she tried to hide it. "No offence, but you are a shitty healer,"
"I'm not a healer," Was all she said before turning and going back to the table to grab more equipment. She returned to the soldier's side as soon as she could. She could feel the female's eyes on her as she washed her hands on alcohol and placed a thick needle above the flaming tear.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"I'm trying to help," Her response was drowned out by a cry from one of the soldiers lying on a bed close to them. Isabella turned to look back at the needle and steadied her hands so the female would not notice the tremble in them. "What's your name?"
"N-Nalani," She replied, followed by a groan.
"Well, Nalani, I apologise beforehand if this doesn't work" The reddish, gleaming needle in her hand and the thread in the other.
"That's fine," The female reassured her with a groan. "It doesn't matter if I die by your hands, I'd have died anyway for blood loss because the healers wouldn't have gotten to me in time"
Isabella tried to ignore the truth in her words. Instead, she leaned closer to the wound. "This will probably be painful,"
"If you haven't noticed, I'm already in pain"
"Right," She swallowed and willed her nerves to go away. Her hand barely trembled as she brought the needle to her skin and pierced her flesh. Nalani hissed, and closed her eyes as she tried to remain still for her. Isabella continued, and held her breath as the thread went from one side of her skin to the other, closing it slowly.
It must have taken her way longer than expected, but by the time she cut the loose thread and placed the needle on the nightstand, Nalani's blood had stopped. She cleaned the stitches and covered it in bandages. She had no idea if what she had done had truly helped, if Nalani was not suffering from internal bleeding that she was clueless to, or if by closing the wound she had worsened her condition or accidentally infected her. But it was done, and she let the female rest as she left her side.
Around her, patients kept strolling in, but she noticed that no more screams were coming from outside, only from those inside the tent. Despite the fact that perhaps she could be of more help, Isabella ventured outside.
Night had fallen long ago, and the moon shone despite what it had been a witness of. She walked through the corpses lying on the floor, and did not make eye-contact with those who were tasked with retrieving the bodies and piling them on top of the other. The earth had been watered with blood, and she distractedly wondered if the result of that would be manifested in the growth of red roses.
A fire burnt not far away, and the smell of burnt flesh had her covering her nostrils with the palm of her hand. The attack had taken them by surprise, and although they had won, the number of deaths had taken a toll in the air they breathed.
She came to a clearing, and noticed that even the water from the lake was having trouble cleaning the blood remaining on the shore.
"Isa?" The familiar voice came from behind her, and she turned on her heels at the sound.
As soon as her gaze found Rowan's, she saw his face visibly relax. She noticed the way his shoulders slumped, and the breath that left his lips. His long hair was tousled and dirty with splatters of blood. Sweat on his brow was mixed with what she knew was someone else's blood. A cut in his lip was the only sign she could find of an injury on his body.
"I-"
He did not let her speak, for in an instant his arms were around her, and his face was pressed in the space between her shoulder and neck. She froze as she realised he was breathing her in, in her scent.
Slowly, she raised her arms until they were hugging him back, and she relished in his warmth.
"I'm so glad you are okay," He murmured against her skin. "I was so worried," He confessed. She could only tight her hold on him. She had been so worried for him, too. She had not allowed herself to admit it, to even think about it, for there were things she needed to do, and it would have done no good if she had allowed her fear for him to cloudher reasoning.
But now, in his arms, and he in hers, she allowed herself to release all the tension, all the terror she had nourished since the beginning of the attack.
"I told you to stay in the healing tents and when I found out they had ambushed us and that they were going there, I- I couldn't think. We stopped them before they could reach you and when it was done I went there but you were nowhere to be found I-" He explained in a rush.
"I went for a walk, I needed some air but I stayed there during all the commotion. I promise,"
"Good," He whispered as he ran a hand through her back and leaned away to look at her face. Reluctantly, she relented.
"How did they manage to get past all the shields around the lake? It makes no sense they would be able to do so, you told me they were unbreakable, that the inside of the fortress was the safest place in all the continent," She made sure not to sound accusing, for she wasn't. All she was, was confused. Perplexed.
Rowan shook his head, and the clenching of his jaw was the only sign of the change in his mood. Anger was palpable in his words as he spoke, "We were betrayed,"
Isabella could not contain the gasp that escaped her lips, "By who?"
"Orion,"
"Are you sure?"
"Very much so,"
Her hands fell limply to her side, even if his own remained on her. "And where is he now?"
A sinister smile tugged the corner of his lips upward, "Gavriel made sure he is locked in the dungeons" The surprise that they even had dungeons didn't even register to her. "Next to one of the Novyk we intercepted,"
She did not even blink, "Have you spoken with him yet?"
"No," His response was slow. "I'll let the others deal with him first"
"Are they all okay, then?" His nod brought her the last piece of relief she needed. Isabella nodded, and together they stared at the reflection of the moon in the cold waters. "You know next time this happens I will not stay in the healing tent," It was not a question, she would not let it be. She allowed it to be a fact, and an unavoidable premonition for him to grow accustomed to.
She heard the exhale of his breath, "I know,"
"Good," She repeated his words, and she knew there was a small smile now tugging at his lips.
"There are many things I need to do now, everyone will want answers and the training will have to be more demanding, for what happened tonight is proof that we have grown too used to an idle life"
Isabella bumped her hip with his, "It can wait till tomorrow"
Rowan rubbed the back of his neck, and she noticed that the action caused more blood and dirt to stained his skin. "No, it cannot. In fact, I should probably head back to the healing tent, I am no physician but I have enough experience with injuries to help" He turned to look at her, then, and his hand found her cheek. She involuntarily leaned into his touch. "You should go rest,"
"No, I'll accompany you,"
"It's cramped enough in there, and you need to rest"
"Rowan-" She began.
"Please,"
Isabella made a show of rolling her eyes, and he took a step back. She saw his back as he left, and begrudgingly went to their tent, for she knew he was right. She would be of little help now that all the injured were in the infirmary, she would only be an inconvenience.
Still, it felt abnormally wrong to go back to an empty tent.
-
It was dawn when Rowan returned. She couldn't find sleep, so when she heard the sound of his steps she bolted upright.
He paused in their opening when he noticed she was awake, "Not sleepy?" She shook her head.
Rowan sighed as he sat on a chair and began taking off his boots. "Is everyone alright?" She asked him from her place on her bedroll.
He cocked his head to the side, "As alright as they can be,"
"What's the number of deaths?"
He rubbed the side of his jaw, "Around fifty-two"
"Holy shit,"
"Indeed,"
"And how many Novyk were a part of the attack?" She fidgeted with her blanket.
"Sixty-four,"
"Any survivors?"
She could feel the pleasure in his words as he responded, "None"
"Great," Then, "How did you know Orion was the snitch?"
He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off as he talked. Isabella had to look away as heat accumulated on her cheeks. "I had my suspicions after we were informed of the first sighting of the Novyk. It was too coincidental. And, sadly, it's not the first time I've dealt with back-stabbers"
"Why did you not confront him sooner, then?"
He cracked his neck and his back. Still shirtless. He was trying to kill her. "I couldn't. We had no proof, and it is better to get answers through torture after confirming of a betrayal. Otherwise it can be problematic," He stood up and unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall on the floor as he continued. "Furthermore, I wanted to see how it would play out. I knew they were going to attack, I just wanted to know how, that's why I told you to remain in the infirmary, I just never thought they would do a double attack. They got me there"
She was momentarily distracted as Rowan started dressing. She tried not to gape as she asked him, "Are you not going to bath?"
"Too tired," He responded while putting on new clean pants. "I'll do it tomorrow. Maybe" He added with a smirk.
"You are disgusting," She claim through a chuckle.
"Disgustingly attractive," He winked at her and stretched his arms over his head on purpose.
But all playfulness abandoned her when she noticed his hand. "Oh my Gods, Rowan, your hand! What happened to it?" It was red and scarred, swollen and already shining with blisters.
He looked at it uninterestedly. He shrugged. "An arrow on fire. It'll be just fine tomorrow"
"Liar," She rose from her place and walked to his side. He tried to hide his hand behind his back but she took a hold of it before he could do so. "Let me see,"
"You would take a look at it even if I didn't let you," He sounded way too amused and pleased for his own good.
Her eyes remained on his injury, and she made sure to be gentle as she inspected it. "You went back to the infirmary to help others and yet couldn't ask anyone to heal you ?"
"It's nothing,"
"Don't" She ordered him harshly. "I think I may have some bandages in here, it'll hel-" She had started turning to go look for them, but he stopped her by bringing his other hand on her hip.
"There's no need, I'll be fine in a couple of days" His words came out in a whisper, so he leaned his head closer to hers to be heard.
She thanked herself for not panting as she accused, "You said earlier it would be fine tomorrow. Not in a couple of days"
His smirk had her angling her body imperceptibly closer to his. "Semantics, Isa"
"You have no idea how much I wish I could be of bigger help," Her confession left her lips in an even lower whisper.
He brought his healthy hand to her cheek, "You are more than enough,"
Isabella rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance, trying to lighten the mood since it had turned heavier and deeper than she had intended. "You are a liar,"
"Of course not,"
"That's what liars always say,"
They were intently staring at each other, and they were close enough that she could notice the slightly greener spots in his eyes. A creased formed in between his brows, "I'm sorry I will not be able to teach you the tongue of thorns,"
For some reason, the fact that after everything that had happened, the fact that what he was most worried in the moment was that he would not be able to fulfil her request had her eyes flooded with unshed tears. "That's fine," She croaked out.
His frown deepened, "No, it's not. I wanted to"
Isabella shook her head and took a couple of steps back. "It really is fine, Rowan. Don't worry" Then, so as not to sound as if she were running away from the moment, she added. "We should rest,"
She was running.
-
It took several days for things in the camp to go back to normal, and even though they had won, the mood had not improved.
Isabella had decided, in the meantime, that she ought to learn the ways of healing. There were not many wyrdmarks regarding that skill, so she had tried reading more of the book to find anything else. It had been in that moment when the pages turned in their own volition, as if the book were alive, and stopped in a blank page.
She saw the ink appeared out of thin air, and saw it form a new sentence.
Serva me, servabo te. Save me, and I will save you.
Just as she finished reading the words, they vanished, and in its place appeared even more ink that transformed into more words. She read the pages, and realised it was a completely new chapter about botany. It was explained with precision and in detail the flowers and plants better used for making paste, and how its variations could be used for treating different pains.
She scanned the rest of the pages, and found that they were all about healing and remedies.
As she did so, she came to a number of conclusions.
1-This was exactly what she was looking for
2-This meant she would be able to be of big help to the camp
3-The book had a mind of its own, and its responses varied regarding what she sought
-
It was dark when she hurried out of the dining hall and went back to her tent to grab her book. She almost ran to the trees to look for the different plants she would need for her first remedy.
Isabella had been so focused on her search that she didn't hear anyone approaching until he spoke.
"What are you doing?" She was startled, and looked up to find a beautiful male staring patiently at her.
She closed the book quickly. "Nothing,"
"Okay," He nodded slowly, and seemed almost uncomfortable under her gaze. "Do you need any help doing nothing?"
"Not really," She just wanted him to leave so she could resume her search.
"I see," He turned to the side, and the moonlight highlighted his features. She realised she had seen him before, and that she could still remember his name despite the fact they had never spoken.
"Vinhen, right?" She asked him, warily.
A smile transformed his face from beautiful to gorgeous. He seemed happy that she remembered him. "Yes, and you are Isa,"