Fiona watches me from across the room, those eyes locked on my figure as the dimness of the light in the room only makes me feel safe. Even with the eyes of a witch who swears she can destroy my eternity looking at me, the shadows bring a haven to me, one more relaxing than the embrace of Zion. Perhaps Zion may never lift the curse upon her coven, but I can figure out a way for her to believe I am getting closer to achieving her task while I am actually destroying her own life, making a shell out of her, to trick her. I do not know who I was exactly in my past life, if I ever soughed out revenge, if I lied, deceived, tricked, beat, or killed anyone, but I know that I was dead, within the grasp of death, the master of deceit himself. I lived within his realm for two years, I could have learned his tricks, and I will use them on Fiona to get what I want. Perhaps I could lift the curse on her coven, but I could also send her to that eternity of burning on a wheel.
"You seem tense, Sybil," Fiona comments, chair scrapping against the floor as she pushes it back, getting to her feet as I stand before her in her little office. There are wands off on the corner of her table, five of them onyx black, gems on the hilt as I wonder why someone would need so many wands. For collection? Do they each offer her a certain range of power? A brick wall behind the witch, a narrow and long window is lined up with her body, one just big enough to perhaps push her through and see her plummet three stories. "Any news?"
One of the walls of her office curves around, bookshelves covering the paint as they are old and worn, many leather bound and some even scrolls tucked away. A crimson rug is tucked under her desk, a few empty potion bottles scattered upon the wooden desk as she places her hands down, black ink on her pinkie finger, moving under her skin as I know not to temp the beast within her. "You will get your curse lifted, Zion just needs more of my trust, and perhaps yours as well."
"Mine?" Fiona scoffs, throwing her hands up in the air as the lights flicker in the room. "I brought you back from the dead, he should trust me."
"He fears what you may do the second that the curse is lifted."
Fiona rolls her eyes crossing her arms as the room darkens. "He thinks that I will wage war on the Empire he used to rule with an iron fist," she mutters to herself, as if mocking the idea. "Your husband only looks at the main idea, no longer the details. Zion used to hold the world in the palm of his hand, never letting one tiny detail go unnoticed whether it be lying within the paperwork, the words of a council member, or the actions of a rogue. He was once a force to be reckoned with." Looking to me, Fiona seems to stare now, cocking her head to the side as she smirks. "And then he met you, a poor rogue with no royal blood. Lillian Rice must have been rolling over in her grave the moment the universe allowed your paths to cross."
"Lillian?"
"The true mate of Zion, the one who made his heart beat faster than ever, him forget every ounce of his identity as he chased her like a lost puppy." The name sounds familiar, but there is no memory I can remember of her. "She died and left you an empire to waltz into, but she always wanted to win the game, even after her time had passed."
"So there is more to this deal of yours than just getting Zion to lift the curse, isn't there? There is some personal issue other than the curse?" I ask, trying to picture what my life was before, what walking through the palace must have been, what my heart did when I looked upon Zion.
"Personal?" Fiona shakes her head, walking towards the door of her office. "I only wish for my curse to be lifted, that is the only personal thing I have in this game, but there are other players now, Sybil, and I am not the one to fear most, those who are dead should be feared the most."
Fiona is gone in the blink of an eye, turning into a black dust as she falls through the floor, leaving me alone to my thoughts as I know who to seek out, what question to ask. The internet cannot help me, help unravel the mysteries and secrets that I know Zion would never wish to see out for the world to lay their greedy eyes upon. My eyes look to the wall before me, a set of wands displayed on a shelf, looking fragile as I wonder what they could do. I have seen Fiona use magic without a wand, but that just means she is a witch, for witches are not restricted to wands. Wands are used to cast the most powerful spells a witch can use, able to amplify their magic as wonder if she used one of these wands to bring me back. I had done some reading the other night, how if a witch had used a wand to cast a spell on someone, that means the wand will have been tied to a piece of our soul. Like if you give blood, your blood will be given to someone else. It is a dumb analogy, but it is how wands work, how Fiona, due to being cursed, loses a part of her soul to the spell she cast upon me, meaning a tiny fragment of our souls are bound together.
It is tricky magic, but I know that if I can find a way to do so, I can make it a death sentence for her to send me back to the afterlife. If I can harness a bit of magic and made that part of her soul which is attached to mine, able to stay if she sends me back, she would go back with me. It is a way for me to ensure I can play this witch too, for even if I have been dead for two years, I still wish to continue living.
"Everything okay?" He asks, pulling me away from my thoughts as I see Zion standing in the doorway, eyes lightening up as I look back to him. Rather than reply, I just nod, feeling a tug within my body as Zion walks towards me. "Something tells me you have questions to ask."
"Why?"
"Anytime you speak with Fiona, you have an array of questions," Zion replies, "I do not mind, if they help you figure out who you are and what your past was like, I am here to aid you."
He is weak, just like Fiona has said. My death has made him weak, no longer holding the world in the palm of his hands as I ask myself how willing he is to let me remember everything. We have not spoken since last night, when he kissed and I had felt a faint spark. I had left him last night after that kiss, walking away to my room as I could not sleep, but only think.
"Who was Lillian?"
That spark once in his eyes has gone away, nothing but a distant memory as Zion shakes his head. "Who was Lillian, Zion?" I ask, my voice strong as I back away from the male, finding the atmosphere tense as he holds a piece of information from me once more. "Who was she?"
"She is dead," Zion snaps, voice deep as the walls seem to shake. With my head held high, I wonder if my wolf was within me still, if I would be able to bare my canines and send this male backing down. "The dead hold no control over my life."
"I did, and seeing from your reaction, she still does."
"Lillian is a story for another time, for when you remember who you are."
"And we both know I am never fully remember who I was. Hell, I cannot even recall that we were to have a child, and you kept that from me. You kept from me the fact that it was not only just me who died that day, but our child."
"Many others died that day, I do not say every single name because it is not important."
"Our child was not important?" I question, a sting in my chest as I find it hard to breath, as if a strong force pressing against my lungs. Zion shakes his head, instantly regretting what came from his mouth as I walk right past him. I find it hard to hold my head high as I pass the man who I supposedly loved so much I would walk through hell to get to. "I no longer require your company, nor your efforts to allow me to remember who I was."
I leave, feeling lost as I walk down the stairs, not knowing where to start as I know I must now seek out my own answers to the questions I ask over and over again. Fiona had told me hours ago that her phone was to always be open to my use, to try and figure out who I was and get her curse lifted. Fiona makes herself seem like a pawn in the overall game being played out, as if she is a mere threat that should not send me running in the opposite direction. As I enter the common area, Fiona's phone is left for me to take, easily opening it up to find the internet before me.
Lillian Rice, Royal Guard Colonel , 1991-2013. She died three years before my life took a sharp turn in the opposite direction. I scroll down the page of results, clicking on an image of the blond who makes it clear why Zion would have gone after her. A beautiful blond, beautiful golden locks falling right below her shoulders, bright blue eyes, oval face, and a complexion anyone would be jealous of. She was young when she died, murdered, the case closed and no murderer named as no one knew who. Flipping to an older article from some teen magazine, I see a picture of a younger Zion, not as built, a buzz cut, and his suit loose on his body. She smiles at him, hand in his, and wearing a blue and black military uniform. Even with the picture at a low-quality, it is hard to miss the way that they look at one another.
One thing which surprises me is the article which follows. A diamond ring, sapphires on either side, placed on a golden band, and upon the slender finger of Lillian Rice herself, smiling as Zion is down on one knee. However, the article does not speak of the romance and the typical congratulations an engaged couple would receive, but words about her affair with an alpha. Lillian was cheating on Zion with an alpha, causing Zion to call off the engagement and create an off-on relationship for another two years before her body was found in the mansion of the same alpha she was cheating on Zion with. The following article in my web search is more recent, my name pastured across the title as it discusses Zion used me to gain the aid of rogues in a war.
"That bastard," I mutter, finding more and more of the countless times Zion got back with Lillian after she had done him wrong. He loved her, in the palm of her hand, and I find myself asking if I had known all of these things before we met or even tied the knot. I assume I knew, for at the time he was with Lillian, I would have been a teen, keeping up with the tabloids as I wondered why he stayed with a woman so horrible to him. Only one word can describe why and makes me feel sick.
She was his mate, his one true love and I was just the second-pick. I could have just been a political tool too, a rogue during a time of war when Zion needed rogues to help his cause.
"The newspapers never even got half of my life right," his voice echoes around the room as I tense up. "I know you do not care to hear what I have to say right now, Sybil, but you need to know the tabloids want to paint people the colors that they want, not someones true colors. They produce what sells and you know this."
"Hard to believe you when half the things you say are lies. Lies only harm, they do not protect."
Placing the phone down, those lavender eyes flash through my mind as I keep thinking back to those eyes, to that name which circles in my head. Keva. Who was she?
"I do not disagree," Zion speaks up. "I know what I said minutes ago were foolish to say, but the truth can do more harm than good. Lillian was not the good in my life, the tabloids wanted to paint us as picture perfect because she was a royal guard, the two of us breaking rules to have a relationship and the public loved that."
"And they hated the idea of a rogue as their queen?" I ask, looking over my shoulder to see the former King of a powerful empire helpless. "Tell me the truth, no longer avoiding the problem. Tell me the truth now, or I may never believe another word coming from your lips." Zion runs a hand through his hair, stressed as he thinks of where to start. "Start from when you met Lillian."
"She was a woman with a passion, with nothing to lose, nothing holding her down."
"So what happened?"
Zion looks up from the floor, eyes locked with mine. "The same thing that happened to you: she met me."