Pandora
"I promise you, Lady Pandora, once you meet him you'll know what I mean." Princess Naida continues her melodramatic speech about soulmates and fated pairs, and how she knew from the moment she saw me at the ball that I'm meant to be with her cousin.
A reputed noble who owns half the islands surrounding the Silver Scale territory. Of course, when I asked for his age, the first excuse she came up with was that 'age is just a number' prior to vaguely telling me that he could be my Father, and has already a wife with three children waiting at home for him.
"I'm grateful, Lady Naida, that you're so concerned for my future," I cut her off, halting my steps when we arrive at the dining hall. The silent scowl on her face not bypassing me. She's the one who called me to accompany her to brunch in the first place. Wasn't it for Father's idiotic laws, I would've attended this morning's meeting with the men.
"However, I assure you that my love life is not a matter of worrying."
She clears her throat before nodding once. The fairness of her skin tainted by the hypocrisy of her smile. Unlike me, she ordered her maids to do the very best they can to dress her up as elegantly as a 'casual' outfit would allow.
The sleeveless dress laced tightly around her chest compared to the other parts of her body, manages to awaken my insecurities that can't seem to let go of me. No matter how well hidden they are. After yesterday, I thought to dress better than I usually would've. Since this time, there will be someone I want to impress.
Don't. Blush.
But, without the help of my maids - who Mother dismissed in my name, there's only so much I can do. My beige tulle dress falls loosely over my shoulders, the puffy long sleeves see through. I ended up waking later than I planned too, and hence only had the time to tie a ribbon in my hair to keep it out of my face before this insanely beautiful woman showed up at my door. Next to her, who's so much taller, more refined and slimmer than me. How could I possibly compare?
Doors open, the scent of warm food penetrating my nostrils, makes me momentarily forget about the spying Lady next to me. I don't know who she thinks I am, but she must think me to be a fool if she hopes that I don't know about her schemes.
When the topic of men comes up, all noble women are the same at heart, and I've spend my life surrounded by them. I saw the look she gave Ciaran. I hear the mad beating of her heart as we step into the hall, her eyes immediately finding him out of everyone seated at the long tables. My expressionless mask doesn't slip when I see the dark in his gaze, the manner in which the man-child is glaring at the empty chair a couple of seats further, comical.
Ah, I understand.
Princess Naida walks over to the empty seat next to Jonathan, who's leaning closely to Father, away from his 'Grim Reaper' that's sitting at the other side of the table, opposite of him. My dear brother must've done what I bluntly told him to do, and carried what he saw over to Father.
A day ago, they had the decency to respect my dignity as a high ranked noble, and seated me with them. But, today, I'm nothing but a whore in their eyes, who's place is with the maleficent witches. I'm not bothered by their miserable attempt to walk over me. Especially when I notice the fierce auburn curls seated next to me.
"Didn't know you were one of us, witch," she snickers from next to me when I sit down, eying the front of the table where Mother and Father are happily conversing like yesterday never happened. I knew it would be like this. It's always like this. A pinch of manipulation, a sprinkle of threats and he's forgiven. Next to them, Jonathan is laughing with his mouth full at his friend's remarks, his fiancée stealing side glances at Ciaran ever other bite. Food is obviously not the only thing she's hungry for.
"Can't she keep her eyes to her own man, instead of goggling yours." Esmée mutters next to me, noticing the heated glances and obvious flirts from the Princess.
I take a sip of grape juice, letting the goblet rest against my bottom lip when I whisper.
"He's not my man."
The denial ridiculous in my ears, and painful to the heart. Esmée's melodious laugh attracts the attention of a few around us, including the man seated diagonally to me. He looks up from under his hood.
"You tell yourself that,"she says, ripping a slice of bread in pieces, plopping one in her mouth, "Just don't say it in front of him, or you'll end up like me in no time."
"Like you?"
"Pregnant," says the quiet voice in front of us. Confusion is written all over my face as I look at him, recognising him from somewhere, then back at her. Pointing a finger at her belly accusingly. Esmée sends a glare the guy, confirming his answer. For a while, I sit there looking like a fool as I mouth words that refuse to come out of my throat.
"When?" I all I manage to ask.
"The day before leaving, I had to ask one of the Alchemists staying at the tower to make me a potion to confirm it." Her hand rubs her belly reassuringly, and the soft grin on her face gives her an air only mothers can carry. My eyes widen, heartbeat races, eyebrows creasing.
Wonder.
A child is growing inside of her. I look up to her for permission, her smile allowing me to place the sweaty palm of my hand against her belly. I have to heighten my senses to hear it, but once I do, the most wonderful feeling washes over me. Life is blooming inside her. Unanswered pleads and broken dreams are a memoire between the layers of warmth spreading through me. I smile, a face splitting grin lighting up my features when I think of all the wonderful things this child will bring to the world.
"You really haven't changed."
I hear between the happy murmurs of Esmée describing how delighted Azef was upon hearing the news, to the point of shedding tears. Looking up, the man takes off his hood. The familiar warm brown skin, dark eyes and slicked-back hair that he coloured a vivid lilac make me drop my smile when the nostalgia kicks in. Only to reappear a hundred times more brightly when the many memories resurface of the young hybrid mage tending my wounds when nobody else would touch me. Fearing that the curse of my existence would be transmitted to them.
"Rishi."
His name sounding foreign on my tongue, it's been that long. His smile matches mine at the mentioning of his childhood surname.
"It's been far too long, Tweetie."
Before he became a pupil of the Mages here, he was an apprentice of our Royal Doctor. As a hybrid born between a night child and fairy, his mother's features and powers are only partially flowing in his veins. In this life, the furthest he'll ever come is a High Mage's pupil, or low-classed Alchemist. But, from the looks of it, he's more content than I've ever seen him.
I want to stand up, but one look at the table tells me that a single scrape of my chair against the floor will turn all these expecting gazes on me. Looking over at where he's sitting, I catch Liam whispering something in his ear, while he just keeps on looking forward. Boring holes on my brother's sweating forehead.
I wonder what Jonathan said this time.
A hand covers mine on the table, and I turn my gaze to Rishi's slender fingers on mine, squeezing them reassuringly.
"Later," he mouths, to which I nod in relief. You never realise how much you've missed someone until you see them again after a long time.
"So," Esmée interrupts our childish staring and smiling, enjoying the reunion of the Palace's most famous outcasts. "What's up with the nickname?"
My head shots up, and I cough a couple of times to keep myself from choking on a piece of apple. The devious smile of my long lost friend making me kick him from under the table, to which he dramatically groans.
"No," I stubbornly mouth, squinting my eyes at him when he laughs and turns to Esmée. Completely ignoring the knife I'm clutching in my hand.
"If you really want to know," he drums his fingers against his chin, "Our Pandora here used to be a real brat when she was young. At least once a week, she snuck into my room to get healed because of some prank she pulled. One day, our Palace had some foreign guests over. Rich nobles from overseas. Well..." He pauses dramatically, taking a long sip of his drink.
"Cease the theatrics and get over with it!"
He opens his mouth again, but I shoot forward and push a piece of cheese in his mouth to keep him quiet.
"Its was an accident long ago, no need to wake up the dead."
"To make Pandora so embarrassed," she chuckles, and I know at that moment that I messed up, "now I'm even more intrigued."
I should've pretended to be unaffected, to not care like I usually would. My facial muscles seem to speak for me.
"As I was saying, this little one over here thought it would be a good idea to sneak into one of the guests' chambers, and play with the pet they brought."
"A couple of lovebirds," I mutter. The exotic chirps and soft feathers strangers to my memory, only a vague idea of them left.
"To put it simply, she let them escape." I openly shoot a glare at him, slowly standing up when I notice those at others tables doing so too. Deserts will be served soon, and now is the time to mingle with those around you. Unfortunately, Esmée grabs my hand to pull me back down.
"Calm down, Tweetie," she laughs when I continue to fixate on him for telling such biased side of the story.
"I didn't let them escape. I had them in my grip, but let them go because..."
"Because you were afraid you were going to hurt them if you held them too tightly," Rishi finishes for me with a smile, to which I respond with a squeeze of our clasped hands.
"Why did you pick them up in the first place?" I turn to Esmée to see her picking a desert from one of the servants passing with the trays.
"Their feathers. The colours of their feathers looked like the sun setting over the woods behind the Palace." I jump up when I feel her fingers pinching my cheeks.
"What was that for?"
"Who knew our Tweetie was cute since childhood!"
"I'm not - "
My voice dies out when an ombre casts over me. Richi, who's enjoying his vanilla pudding, let's the spoon slip through his grasp and clank on the table. The noise going unnoticed under the loud chatting of the hall. Only now do I take the time to look around, and notice that some people are already retreating back to their daily activities. Next to me, Esmée snickers, which doesn't make much sense since I spot her sworn enemy standing behind her.
If Sir Aries is here, then...
"If you're done with your chats, it's about time we go back to the Palace, Precious." An arm snakes around my shoulders, and I blink at the thump that shamelessly caresses my exposed collarbone in circular motions. I look at him sideways, feeling a tightening in my chest for some odd reason.
"Must we leave so soon," my hand reaches out for Richi again, "If possible I would like to stay for another couple of hours."
"Unfortunately, we just received some news of urgent matters that need to be discussed." I pull slightly away to turn to him, when his breath fans again the shell of my ear. His nose burying itself in my loose curls. A shiver runs down my spine when he murmurs, the sexual tension making my underbelly clench.
"I see that you managed to cover my marks. Don't make me mark you again in front of your entire Clan." I freeze.
He chuckles, the other arm that's hidden from all eyes slowly caressing my thigh. Going upwards, up, and when he's hovering above my core without doing anything, I let out a breath of relieved.
Right, there's no way he's that bold to really -
A loud gasp escapes me before I can cover it with an unbothered face. The unbearable touch of his hand that's cupping my sex sends wave after wave of heat through my body. The sheer force at which I grab my spoon, bending it to the slightest. Only when his middle finger applies more pressure do I grab his hand as subtly as plausible under the table.
"Actually," he chuckles darkly, the women at the table shamelessly relishing the sound of it, "Forget what I just said. Please make me." After I finally manage to push him off me, which happens very easily since he steps back after finishing daunting me.
"There is a place and time for everything, Ciaran." With him being older, and higher ranked than me, I thought that he was going to be the mature one between us. Never did I think to become the one scolding. He reaches for me again, but I lean away, standing up carefully to make sure the vultures hovering over me remain starving.
"Aren't you coming?" I ask Esmée when she doesn't make a move to stand up.
"You go ahead, there is something I'd like to discuss with Richi."
I frown at her in question, keeping my mouth shut.
"I'll see you off when you're done packing, Tweetie." Waving goodbye, I copy his action of leaning over and kiss him on the cheek like he does to me. The shadows creeping behind us drawing attention from everyone. So without another word, I walk away. Ciaran and the others following close behind with serious faces. They were all smiling and enjoying the feast moments ago, I wonder what happened. The silence follows us into the hall, and only when we're at an intersection do I break it since this is where we part ways. To reach their rooms, they have to take the left turn while I have to go right.
"What news could be so urgent that we must depart in middle of brunch?"
Immediately, Sir Aries sends me a harsh glare.
"This isn't the place to talk about it. We'll discuss it at home - in a trusted environment." And off he goes.
The rest follows suit, sending me reassuring words of encouragement that everything is alright. I want to ask Ciaran, but find myself left by myself in the hallway.
Alright, I guess?
I expected to be alone in my chambers, but still, a slight feeling of discomfort aches my head when I recall the timid face of Eleanor proposing me some of her deliciously relaxing tea. Hastily, I collect the little things I forgot to bring with me last time, for I don't see myself coming back here ever again.
It's midday, and the breeze waltzing in through the open window passes by me as I'm bend over my bed contemplating about what daggers I should bring with me. There's only so much space in one suitcase and it's unfortunate to say that I'll have to chose between my whip or crossbow. A shiver runs through my back and I turn around to close the window when I see him standing on the balcony. Shoulder leaning against the wall - assessing me.
The gaze his eyes hold, so reckless yet penetrating, smile down at me mockingly. I don't know what it is about his stance that makes me step back out of instinct, the rising of my chest coming ragged. A gleam passes by his blue eyes, and gone is the humane appearance he kept on all morning.
"Perhaps it was in the heat of the moment," he starts, pushing himself of the wall and taking step after the other until his feet walk over the velvet carpet, "Or maybe I didn't think it necessary to be mentioned, that I'm not generous when it comes to what's mine."
I blink once, somewhere expecting him to appear right in front of me in a microsecond.
"How so?" I part my legs further, to avoid any friction down there that would damp my underwear any more than it unmistakably already is. The lightheartedness in his demeanor gone, and I've never seen him any more serious about anything.
"Oh, I don't know. Do I look like the type to kindly ask other men and women to keep their hands off what I claimed," He says humourlessly, his hands pointing at his dangerously handsome face and fatally strong body.
No, he doesn't look like the type to ask for anything. He's the kind of person to demand, and steal if necessary.
"Richi is a very good friend of mine, Ciaran."
His deep laughs resonate through my room, and I take another step back when the midday sun is blinded by his darkness.
"Do I look like I care?" He asks rhetorically, picking one of my daggers up from the bed and playing with it leisurely.
"I thought you would know by now, Precious. I dig out the eyes of those who even want to look at you. I could cut off the limbs of those who dare touch you. Even those in the mere presence of you should pay the price."
"He's just a -"
"I thought that leaving marks was enough, but alas you knew to hide them." His attention descents to the weapon in his hand, the simple act of a head tilt feeling like stones on my shoulders.
"A tattoo should be visible enough to keep them away." He mutters to himself, and I let out a heavy breath. His ears pick up on the sound. His eyes look up to me, then back at the dagger he's holding in question.
"You didn't think I would carve your body, did you?"
He takes a small step towards me when I don't answer, my brain slowly putting a careful answer together that would satisfy both him and I.
"Did you?"
A new emotion, unknown to me, rises in my chest. I detest it, the inexplicable reactions he kindles whenever I'm in his presence. I'm a Princess. Born and raised to fight for my Clan. Shaped into monstrous perfection. Moulded into a flawless creature. For years, I was undefeatable.
And then, I found him.
My kryptonite.
My demise.
"No. I didn't. But that doesn't mean I won't continue to act the way I do around those close to me, Ciaran."
"Pandora."
"I don't ask about your past, about the lovers you had or about those you invited into bed. I accept that you have others at heart, just like you should accept those I hold dear." He's a step from me now, the discontent clear in his features. Looking up at the ceiling, he takes a few seconds to calm himself. The smell of blood makes me look down, and I approach him when I notice how he clenches the blade of the dagger. Black blood seeps though his fist, dripping on the floor.
"What are you doing, let go of that," I remark worriedly, taking his wounded hand in mine to inspect it. My daggers are dipped in poison, he could fall ill if the blade reached deep enough into his flesh.
"He's nothing but a friend? You promise?"
"I promise you."
I pause for a moment when I notice his blood on my fingers. He won't notice if I heal him right? He shouldn't, with such a small wound. With that in thought, I slowly let some mana transfer through my finger tips, the golden sparks barely visible to the eye.
"Eliza, is she just a 'friend' like him too?"
The sparks disappear into nothingness. I slowly let go of his hand to look up at him. Unexpectedly, he doesn't seem angered, or jealous. Simply curious. His pupils relaxed.
"At first no, she was different. But now, she is."
He doesn't answer. Simply nods. Calmly, so incredibly calmly, his wounded hand raises to my chest and places it there. I don't understand what he's doing until he speaks up again. My urge to run away from him stronger than ever.
"Did you do what we did yesterday with her too?"
I hope immediate denial would save my cause. I've been trained for these kinds of interrogations for Heaven's sake! But, in front of him, all of them nullify. I detest it, and yet I can't stay away from it.
My heart rate picks up, and one nod confirms that he hears it too.
"Did she touch you?"
Again, my heart skips a beat. Another nod. His hand gently circles around my throat.
"Like I touched you?"
I look away when he nods again. His pupils contracting, a drop of his blood running down my collarbone to my cleavage when he squeezes.
What is it with this man and choking?
"More?"
"Ciaran-" My breath hitches when my back hits the wall forcefully. The wetness between my legs almost dripping down my thighs at this point. He dips his head down to lick my chest clean of his blood. In one, long lick. My head rests against the wall as he presses against me. The hardest part of him against the wettest part of me.
"I see." He murmurs, before looking back down at me.
His gaze crosses mine.
Lust meets yearning.
"Show me." Before I can ask any further questions, or speak anything else, he lifts my chin with the claw of his index.
"Show me just how much of what belongs to me she touched."