Chapter Eight: Eyes Like Stars
Ella was pissed.
Beyond pissed.
So pissed that she wanted to strangle someone, but the weirdest part was the fact that she didn't even know why she was so angry since this was a different type of rage than she was used to, and it hadn't set in until after she'd met the strange demon boy.
Letting out an irritated sigh, she set her chin down on the bar's counter, glaring at the wall.
All around her, the sound of laughing men and women filled the air, but instead of feeling comforting and warm like it usually did, the boisterous cheer only exacerbated her sour mood.
Directly in front of her, a redheaded man named Drake tended the bar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and although his freckled face was warm, when she huffed again for the umpteenth time he finally looked up with an irritated expression.
Two pale blue eyes the color of ice studied her face.
"You know," he rasped in a deep, growling voice, "it's not good to bottle everything up, My Lady."
Ella glared at him with half-lidded eyes, then pulled the golden necklace her captive had dropped out of her cloak and looked at it yet again, trying to make sense of it.
"I'm not bottling anything up, Drake," she muttered. "It's just, a specific demon is causing me more issues than any of the others I've faced over the last few years, and I genuinely find myself struggling with how I should deal with it."
"Oh?" he asked, quirking a fiery eyebrow as he cleaned one of his mugs with a dishcloth. "A demon causing you problems? That's rare... is it a strong one?"
"I'm not sure. It doesn't seem or even look all that powerful," Ella snorted, lifting the beautiful necklace with grumpy eyes. "Then again, it did manage to disarm me once, so I'm not sure."
The man's eyes widened and his hand stilled.
"You?" he asked, looking seriously frightened. "A demon actually managed to disarm you?"
"Yes," she grumpily admitted, giving him a sour look. "For the first time since I finished my training, I was disarmed... but there's no need to fear, since I recovered like I usually do."
"My lady," he murmured, slowly returning to his business. "This is cause for worry. You're the countess of the southern region, so if something happens to you... the country will..."
"Nothing will happen," she rapped out. "Do not doubt my abilities!"
The man fell silent, cowed by the fire in her glare, but she had a good reason to be mad.
After all, a strange demon had fearlessly waltzed up to her, disarmed her with literally no effort whatsoever, and had then lifted her into the air like a toy doll... but, that was also the reason she was so blasted confused: why had he embraced her?
She'd been open to his whims, he could have easily killed her in that moment, or worse, but instead he'd swept her off the ground and into his arms.
Forget demonic, his actions had been almost princelike.
What was more, up until the flogging, the anger she'd felt towards him hadn't changed at all, not even when she'd watched him get kicked around by the villagers. It was true that she'd been disturbed to learn that the psychotic creature had a knack for mimicking human emotions straight down to the core of his eyes, but that hadn't made her angry, either.
At least, not in a way that was any different than usual.
Lifting the beautiful necklace the demon boy had dropped, Ella irritably let it dangle in front of her eyes. She had scrutinized every inch of this trinket over the last few weeks, yet she still had no idea what to make of it, and like they always did, her brows furrowed when she looked at the words that had been engraved onto it.
"Ella's Heart," she muttered, nose wrinkling in confusion. "For my Darling Xaphile."
Xaphile.
That name also kept pissing her off for some reason since it triggered a bizarre feeling of nostalgia, as though she should have known who it belonged to.
The feeling was weird.
Letting out another huff of air, she slammed the necklace down in front of the barkeep, making him jump.
"Drake, I want you to look at this and give me your opinion on it," she snapped, grumpily folding her arms when he blinked at the piece of jewelry. "As a former jeweler and part time blacksmith, what are your thoughts? I truly want to know."
"My word," he murmured, instantly reaching for it with a gleam in his eyes; then he stopped and asked, "er... may I?"
When she indicated her approval, Drake picked it up and looked at it closely, taking note of the locket's golden shine before inspecting the gleaming chain.
Blinking in total confusion, he walked over to the wall and gently pushed some bottles of wine to the side to grab a thin box. Ella watched him pull out some tools with her chin resting on her hand, observing how he scrutinized its surface under a jeweler's glass, then tapped it gently with a small chisel. His eyes abruptly widened, which was completely unexpected, but after a few more minutes of tinkering he set his tools down and stared at her in disbelief.
"Where did you get this?" he lowly demanded. "My lady, tell me right now."
"Why does it matter?" she demanded, glaring at him.
"Do you even know what this is worth?!"
"No," Ella admitted, cheek twitching as she shifted uncomfortably on the seat. "So what?"
"This necklace is one of a kind!" Drake breathed, shaking his head in amazement. "I've never seen anything like it, even during my days as a jeweler! The chain should have broken a long time ago, and the pendant should be dented beyond repair since they're both very old."
Ella paused, then frowned at him in confusion.
"Why should it be broken?" she demanded. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"This necklace is made of gold, Ellameira!" he exclaimed. "As you know, creating jewelry from gold is foolish since it's too fragile, but there it is."
"That's impossible."
"And yet, impossible as it is, the proof is right here. Both the pendant and the chain binding it are clearly made of gold! Even stranger than that, though, is the amount of work that was put into it... the chain is so fine that the craftsman managed to braid it and then fuse it all together, it couldn't have been crafted by human hands! I've never seen anything like it."
Ella scowled.
"Then how do you suggest it was made?" she inquired, looking closely at the thin golden threads weaving in and out to create the gorgeously braided chain. "If it wasn't made by a blacksmith or even a jewler, who could have possibly made such a fine piece of jewelry?"
"I don't know," Drake told her, grimly putting his toolbox away. "Especially since the gold seems to be much, much stronger than any I've ever seen. Whoever shaped it either used smithy tools we've never heard of, or magic. Also, the pendant is hollow."
"What?" Ella scoffed, giving him a disbelieving look. "Hollow? How can that be?"
"I don't know, my Lady, but I tested it just to be sure. In any regard, the craftsmanship is so flawless and perfect that this one necklace could probably be enough to hire a small army or purchase enough supplies and help to start renovating this city."
Ella crossed her arms with a reserved expression.
"If it's hollow," she muttered, eyebrows raising a little, "could something be inside it?"
Drake shrugged, blue eyes pensive, and said, "I do not know. What will you do with it? Now that you know what it's worth, will you sell it in exchange for supplies to start renovations?"
"I'm going to get more information about it before I make up my mind," she muttered, tapping the locket without looking at him. "Thank you for your time. May I have some tea?"
"Of course," Drake said, turning around and grabbing a teabag off the shelf. "Might want to enjoy it while you can, too, since the merchant who drops off my supplies came in just yesterday with bad tidings. Apparently, a great deal of crops in the farmlands south of here have started dying and they can't explain why its happening."
Ella blinked, then glanced up.
"Dying?" she snorted, furrowing her brows. "Is it a plague or an infestation?"
"They don't know," he said, shaking his head, "but whatever it is seems to have stretched to parts of the forests around here, too, since I've noticed that a lot of trees and plants have begun to wither or look unhealthy. Perhaps this is a foreshadowing of an oncoming drought?"
"Rotten luck if it is. We already have enough trouble on our hands here."
"Indeed," Drake sheepishly chuckled, then paused and said, "by the way... who is Xaphile?"
Ella's eyebrow twitched and her temper flared up, which made him cringe..
"I don't know," she grumbled, glaring at the locket that had been infused with that name. "If you're asking me that question because you saw my name in the inscription, allow me to explain that the name engraved on this necklace isn't my own. It was another, different Ella."
His Ella, her mind involuntarily suggested, but the moment she thought it her face grew red with a hot flush and she let out a huge huff of air since she couldn't believe that she would even dare to think such a thing. She hated that thought even more than she did the puzzling necklace because it meant she was doubting herself enough to take the words of a demon seriously.
She glowered at the necklace, willing the gold to melt into a puddle with her eyes. but nothing happened at all and she was left to merely fume over her own stupidity. When a mug of herbal tea was set down in front of her, she set her hands on the sides of the cup and decided to ignore the thought that had crossed her mind, but no matter how much she wanted to she couldn't.
She looked at the necklace again, but her irritation abruptly flared anew and with rough hands, she snatched it off the bar and jammed it in her pocket. Downing her drink, she slammed a few coins down on the counter in front of her and rose to her feet, angrily turning on her heel and sweeping towards the door with a curt wave to Drake, who nodded.
She needed time to think, and since sitting around was only frustrating her, she felt like moving around was the better option. Upon walking out into the nighttime air, Ella took a deep breath and let the cool breeze wash over her heated cheeks. She stood there for a long moment, dark cloak billowing in the breeze, but when she heard the soft sound of footsteps to her left, she turned and spotted Gus aggravatedly walking back and forth near the door of the bar, one hand running through his wild cornflower hair and looking genuinely worried about something.
Her lips instantly curled and she headed over to him, figuring now would be a good to ask if the beast she'd taken prisoner was healthy enough to receive his next punishment. She'd been lax as of late, and she figured she needed to put her thoughts back in their rightful place.
"Gus!" she barked, making the man jump and whirl to face her. "What are you doing?"
"I... I-I-I-I was..." he stammered, looking violently flustered by her appearance. "I-I was..."
"Never mind," she snorted, brushing off his odd mood with a wave. "Tell me, how fairs the demon we captured?"
His green eyes immediately narrowed and he let out a sigh.
"His wounds are well on their way to healing," he admitted, rubbing the bridge of his proud nose in a rather unhappy-looking way. "Speaking of him, I wish to show you something, so please come with me, my Lady... it's urgent."
"Come with you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where to?"
"Just come," he grunted, snatching her wrist. " I won't take no for an answer."
"Hey!" she cried, struggling to free her arm. "Gus, what are you--"
"Please, hear me out," he interrupted, jaw visibly growing taut while he dragged her towards the market square. "I fear we may have made a horrible mistake."
"What are you saying?" she spat, gripping his hand with her free one and fighting to get his fingers off of her. "Octavius! Release me! Have you lost your mind?!"
"No, I have not! In all actuality, I should be the one asking you if you've lost yours!" he barked, giving her such a harsh glare that she stiffened in surprise. "That boy is not a demon!"
Her jaw dropped before she caught herself.
"If not a demon," she growled, hair standing on end, "then what, pray tell, is that creature supposed to be?!"
Gus fell silent and his footsteps slowed, expression growing unbelievably dark.
"I think," he muttered, giving her a very serious look, "that he might be a Primordial Fae."
Ella's mouth twitched.
"Impossible," she sneered. "Primordial Fae haven't been seen in our forests since before I was born, and that's why we're stuck with no help from the other rulers. It's why the Eastern lands have been closed off for hundreds of years, why the northern dukedom treats me like some helpless figurehead, and why the king laughs at our futile struggles to keep Nimika alive rather than aid us in these dark days. For all we know, those wretched fae were wiped out years ago."
"You know that is not true, Ella," Gus urgently growled. "The primordial faeries are alive somewhere within the forests, for if they weren't, we wouldn't be able to live here."
"You can't call this," she snarled, gesturing at the crumbling walls, "living, Gus. That boy isn't a faery, he's a demon."
"Oh? Then what do you make of that?!" he snarled, jerking her around the corner of a building and pointing straight at the cage across the town square. "Tell me! What sort of demon would fall asleep holding the hand of a human child?!"
"What?" she snapped, following his finger with confused eyes. "There's no human chi..."
Her words died on her tongue and she froze solid when she saw that Gus was absolutely correct, because there was indeed a little boy lying fast asleep in front of the cage. His arm had been thrust through the bars, and the strange creature that had so badly pissed her off for reasons she couldn't identify was holding his hand, just as deeply asleep from the looks of things.
Bile rose up her throat, and before she realized it... she was seeing red.
Just as she took a step forward, the creature inside the cage let out a deep, wavering groan, stirring slightly in his sleep and she halted in her tracks. Ella's brows furrowed when he continued shifting, breath growing deeper and much more ragged, but the sounds caused the little boy to twitch and sit up, rubbing his eyes and looking around in a daze. However, when he noticed the beast's change in breathing, he stuck both hands through the bars and poked at the heaving creature until his whole body jerked.
Lunging upright with a hoarse gasp, the injured youth blindly scrabbled away from the front of the cage until his back was pressed against the other side of it, chest rapidly rising and falling, pushing against the floor of the cage with his feet, shaking all over.
To her aggravation, though, she couldn't see much more than that.
"You... okay...?" a hoarse voice suddenly rasped, making Ella twitch in shock. "Feel... bad?"
She knew exactly who that voice belonged to.
Kirby Crawford? she silently wondered, gritting her teeth. How, and why, is he speaking to the very creature that everyone was told to avoid when he hasn't spoken a single word to anyone but his grandfather for ten whole years?
She didn't know, but it bothered her greatly.
The Crawford family had once been wealthy tailors, known throughout the entire country by poor and wealthy folk alike, but that had all changed ten years ago during a horrible attack. With the exception of his grandfather, Marty, nobody in their family had survived, and Kirby, only a year old at the time, had been unable to use his voice normally since the smoke he'd inhaled from the fires of that day had damaged his throat and lungs beyond repair.
He hadn't even bothered trying for anyone but his grandfather, and that in itself was a stretch.
So, why now?
Why him?
She watched with disbelieving eyes as the demon turned to look at the child, unable to see his expression clearly.
"Only my heart," his distant voice whispered. "I'm fine... really. My back doesn't really hurt much anymore. And my sides... they're okay."
"Heart... hurt?" Kirby rasped, stretching out a hand. "Why?"
For several moments, there was silence... but then, the clouds that had been obscuring the moon opened up a little, illuminating the area, and for the first time since she'd arrived, Ella could see his face. Her heart instantly tightened and she felt a barrage of confusion and anger fill her to the brim, but mostly, she simply didn't understand what she was looking at. He was staring at nothing with a blank expression, shaking fist being held against his breast.
His face was blank, but his eyes... his eyes were full of raw agony, not the look of a man in physical pain, but pain that was felt within, pain that spoke a terrible message of loss.
It was an expression so full of feeling that it sent chills running down her spine.
"You should get going, kiddo," he whispered. "It's late, and your family is probably worried."
Kirby pouted.
"I... come... back," he rasped. "Pro... mise."
Ella watched as the little boy finally got to his feet and wandered off towards his house
"Do you see?" Gus whispered, making her lift her eyes to his face; he was looking down at her with a very tight-lipped glare. "I've been watching him since the day you flogged him, my Lady... he is not a demon, and I fear we should release him before we incur the wrath of the forest. That creature... I truly believe he might be a primordial faery."
Ella wordlessly turned her gaze back on the dark-haired boy, taking note of his tail, mane, claws, and horns. Truly, he was one of the most bizarre demons she'd ever seen, and despite what she'd told him the night before she'd whipped him, he wasn't particularly ugly aside from his inhuman qualities... but even with those qualities he didn't really look like monster material.
Demons tended to look more beast than human, but he was more human than beast... it was indeed strange.
"I'm not convinced," she said, scowling when Gus deflated and lowered his eyes, "but... I will take your opinion into heavy consideration, for this news is indeed very disconcerting."
"What of him?" he asked, gesturing to the caged young man with worried eyes.
"I'll be doing a bit of snooping around," Ella muttered. "If it does turn out that he is a Faery... and not a demon... I will release him, and no further harm will befall him. Are you satisfied?"
Gus looked at her with a startled expression, then seemed to sag in relief.
"My Lady, I am truthfully grateful to you for heeding my words," he said humbly, lowering his head. "My apologies for dragging you here against your will."
"No, it was necessary," she sighed. "You're my prime minister for a reason. Your job is to advise me on certain things. If it turns out that he is indeed one of the Fair Folk, though... I fear that I will never be able to atone for what I have done to him. I'll take it from here... you may leave."
Gus blinked and nervously headed off in the direction they'd come from, casting glances back over his shoulder as he went. Once he was out of sight, she looked at the caged creature once again... and then she stepped forward, one foot at a time, until she was standing before him.
His eyes slowly shifted and he looked up at her without moving his head.
When they made eye contact, for a long moment, all she could do was stare at him, brows furrowed and face tight with barely-restrained frustration. She watched as a single tear slid out of the corner of his eye and down to his chin, leaving a glistening trail on snow-white skin.
"You're here," he quietly noted, catching her off guard; she blinked when she realized that the expression on his face had turned cold. "I guess this means you're going to torture me again?"
Her anger sparked, but instead of letting him get the better of her temper, she brushed it off and squatted down, looking at him with an intense expression as she contemplated the questions she now had.
"What are you?" she demanded, tilting her head slightly. "Tell me."
He blinked once, but aside from that his face didn't even twitch.
"I don't know... I used to be a human like everyone else," he said, tone coming surprisingly dark. "Now I'm not sure."
Her face slipped into an uncomfortable expression.
"You said to me... that you killed yourself," she murmured, not breaking eye contact. "If this is the truth, however strange and impossible it sounds... answer me something. What could you have possibly gained by doing something so foolish? To take your own life seems like the act of a coward, but you aren't a coward at all."
His eyebrow twitched.
"How do you figure?" he quietly demanded, eyes glittering like stars in the dim light. "You don't even know me."
"In the capital, I've seen criminals tried and put through much, much less than what I did to you," Ella informed him, scowling a bit. "All of them, every single one, either begged for mercy, screamed, or cried... one even wet himself."
"Doesn't answer my question," he flippantly noted, completely unfazed by the glare she threw at him in response. "How does any of this relate to me?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Aside from asking me to stop only once," she growled, clenching her hand into a fist, "not a single sound left your lips, even a whimper. That kind of resistance takes courage. So, tell me... since you're not a coward, why did you run away from life itself?"
The moment she asked, it was like a switch had been thrown: he immediately broke eye contact and looked up at the moon through the bars of his cage.
"It wasn't so much running away from life as it was chasing death," he quietly corrected. "The girl I loved died... and the thought of living without her was unbearable. So, I gave up everything and followed her. I never did find her, though... instead, I somehow wound up here... with you."
He said the last part as if it were some sort of curse. His bitter tone at the end piqued her anger, and she nearly unloaded on him... but then she realized something and paused: bitterness was a form of emotion, and one she was all too familiar with, which was a sign that he could feel.
Biting back her irritation, she looked at him with a haughty demeanor.
"You were a fool," she sneered, trying to goad him into displaying more emotion. "I'm not this girl of yours. You even say we look exactly alike, but I find that very hard to believe."
"Why?" he derisively snorted.
"Because I've never once met another person who has come relatively close to resembling me in any shape or form," she retorted, giving him a glare. "As you can see, I'm very white... my hair, my brows... my lashes, even my skin. I'm an unusual oddity."
His eyes belied no feeling whatsoever.
"You have extreme sensitivity to heat and sunlight because of it, and your vision is very poor," he sourly shot back, making her heart jump with shock. "Your eyes move uncontrollably sometimes, and because of it your vision flickers violently. You bleed more than you should, too, even if it's just a small scrape from falling down."
Her heart skipped another beat, eyes widening in sheer horror, and she drew her sword in a flash, sliding it through the bars.
"How do you know of this?!" she hissed. "ANSWER ME!"
When the point dug into the side of his throat, he turned his head and looked at her, giving a grim little smile. A small cut opened on his neck because of the movement, but even though it wasn't deep enough to be of any mortal threat, she made sure to ease up just in case.
"Because... you really are the same as my Ella," he whispered, oddly upturned eyes looking through her rather than at her. "You don't just look alike, you even have the same condition."
Her brows furrowed and she lowered the sword a little.
"Condition?" she demanded lowly, not believing her ears. "I don't have a condition."
"You do," he told her. "It's called albinism. It's the reason you're so pale."
Ella's jaw tightened, and for a moment, she almost lost her temper... but then, she jerked the sword out of the cage and sheathed it.
Instead, she pulled out the locket.
Clutching it by the shimmering chain, she held it in front of the cage and watched as he looked at it, but before she could open her mouth, his listless expression turned to one of shock.
"That's mine!" he cried, instantly crawling forward and reaching for the bars. "Give it back to me!"
"Excuse me?!" Ella barked, jerking it away from his hands. "This isn't yours! It can't be! Someone like you could never have gotten something like this without stealing it!"
"It's mine! Please!" he cried, making her draw back. "It's the only thing I have left of her!"
His expression was laced with frantic desperation. Ella's eyebrows raised, then she smirked, coming up with a wicked idea.
"Oh?" she drawled, leaning forward and swinging it back and forth. "If that's the case, then... what exactly is your name, little demon?"
"Huh?" he asked, blinking at her in total confusion. "My... name?"
"Yes, your name," Ella repeated, secretly figuring that if he'd stolen it, he wouldn't have been able to read the names. After all, it was no mystery that even a vast majority of regular human beings couldn't read much, if at all... so the way she saw it, there was no way a creature like him could know his letters. "Tell me... what is it?"
"Xaphile," he croaked, still struggling to reach for the locket. "My name is Xaphile Heseroph! But that doesn't matter... just give me my locket... please."
Her expression darkened, but she wasn't convinced just yet.
"If this is yours," she drawled, grinning widely, "guess what's inside it."
He stared at her, hand momentarily pausing as his eyes took on a horrified expression.
"I'm warning you," he growled, mouth trembling, "if you did anything to them, I will never forgive you. Even if you have her face."
Ella's eyebrows rose in outrage at the threat, but then she processed the full weight of his statement.
"Them?" she slowly asked, narrowing her eyes. "What do you mean, them? What's inside this pendant of yours?"
"You mean you haven't even figured out how to open it?" he asked, looking genuinely shocked. "How could you ask me to guess what's inside when you don't even know yourself?!"
She scowled at him.
"I want answers, not backtalk," she sarcastically retorted, narrowing her eyes. "Now answer my question. I grow weary of this."
He glared at her for a long moment, then closed his eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat.
"There's a little ridge sticking out on the left side," Xaphile told her softly. "Hook your nail behind it and pull it down. Be gentle."
Ella warily eyed him, checking for any signs of deceit, before she lifted the locket and examined it more closely on the left side. Much to her surprise, she found herself looking directly at a small ridge she'd initially thought was a dent in the metal.
Upon inspecting it more closely, however, she realized with a bout of amazement that there was actually a thin crack peeking through the very center of it.
She instantly hooked her nail into the ridge and gently tugged as she'd been instructed.
She was expecting some hidden trap, or a secret treasure... possibly even a small creature of sorts, but when the locket flicked open, there was nothing inside.
She instantly scowled.
"There's nothing here," she growled, looking up at him. "You lying piece of... how dare you tell a falsehood to me!"
"Look at the locket itself," he muttered, not looking at her. "Both sides of it. The inner walls."
She blinked, then looked down... but what she saw didn't make sense.
Small Paintings?
No... they were something else, and much more detailed, but that wasn't what she found so strange, it was what the images depicted that she found bizarre.
On the right side of the picture was her own face: it took her by total surprise and shocked her so badly that she nearly dropped it, but even upon bringing the piece of jewelry as close to her eyes as she possibly could, there was no mistaking it.
The girl inside the locket was definitely her... but at the same time, it wasn't her. After all, the girl in the portrait had hair that stretched down out of sight, her cheeks were red like that of a maiden in love, and there was a young man kissing her cheek.
That's when she noticed it: the boy in that picture looked almost exactly the one in front of her, only he didn't have horns and his pupils were soft and round. Heart growing cold, she glanced at the other image, realizing with a jolt that it was indeed actually him.
Looking up from the picture with huge eyes, she compared his face with a taut mouth, not believing what she was seeing, then she looked down at the other people in the photo.
On the left was, once again, the stranger who looked exactly like her. Her doppelganger's flowing white hair was so long that even though the image cut off at the waist, it still stretched down out of sight. She was clinging to his arm... but there was also someone on the right.
Ella looked at the other woman with furrowed brows, realizing she looked vaguely familiar.
Cherubic cheeks, soft brown hair, a smile with a few familiar dimples... even the eyes.
There was something vaguely familiar about her.
"This woman..." Ella mumbled, lifting the locket and holding it out. "Who is she?"
He looked at the pictures, giving a slow blink.
"Connie Richardson," he said weakly, shaking his head. "Ella's mother."
The moment he said it, she felt something strange wash over her heart, a feeling that made her very, very uneasy even though she didn't know why.
She abruptly stood up, pulling her hood over her head.
"I'll return on the morrow," she said as calmly as she could, giving him a tart expression and hastily walking away. "I will be passing your sentence then."
"If so... kill me when you do," Xaphile emptily called, making her footsteps falter a little. "If you're going to torture me... torture me to death. Set me free."
She felt a cold sensation settle over her heart, and her power walk turned into a full blown run.
She didn't know why, but this whole situation felt... wrong.
And for the second time in her life... she felt as though she had made a very horrible mistake.
________________
Thanks for reading! Don't forget to vote if you liked it!