Chapter 35 Ariana
ARIANA
Eislyn and I sat with our backs to a building on a small hill watching the sunset. My muscles were sore from the training we just finished. It started hand-to-hand and ended with using wooden staffs.
The setting sun warmed my face, and I tried to focus only on that feeling to clear my mind.
Lately, the only time I felt at peace was when I physically or mentally exerted myself.
Resting was no longer a solace. My mind raced during the quiet moments, diving deeper and deeper into the worries brewing within.
Over and over, I replayed the scenarios of my approaching escape.
I also thought of Erik, wondering why he had not yet made time to see me. Those thoughts had me feeling foolish. I was a prisoner. Why would he make time for me when he had more important things to do?
Iver’s comment the other day perhaps caused me the most unease when he casually stated that one did not need to be a Seer to know that I would soon be free of the Lysians.
Though he had never mentioned it again, I was terrified to ask him what he meant by it.
I could not shake the feeling that he somehow knew what I was planning.
Eislyn picked up one of the staffs, absentmindedly balancing it horizontally on one of her fingers while observing the view. “You have done well with training.” She turned to me while keeping the staff balanced.
I scoffed. “Yeah, sure.”
“You disagree?” She let the weapon roll off her finger and fall to the ground.
“Lysians have no weaknesses,” I pointed out.
“That isn’t true.” She smirked and asked, “In a fight of a Bavadrin against a Lysian, who would win?”
“C’mon.” I did not answer, for it was apparent.
“What? Not sure?” Her voice then got louder. “What do you think Iver?”
Surprised, I turned and found the prince stepping out from behind the building.
“You’re getting good at that, Eislyn.” He smiled, joining us, though he remained standing and leaned against the building while we sat. Eyes that now seemed even more clever than before viewed me from where he stood.
Did he know I did not intend to return from this next trip home?
It was impossible, unless he was also a Seer?
“Well?” Eislyn turned to him. “Lysian or Bavadrin?”
“Lysian,” he answered.
“Clearly,” I commented, rolling my eyes while trying to get the thoughts of Iver being a Seer out of my head.
“It’s to your advantage that everyone thinks this.” Eislyn smirked.
“How so?”
“Who has more to lose?” she pointed out.
“The loss would be the same for either side,” I answered. Whoever lost would do so with their lives. The cost was the same.
Iver joined in to help lead me to the answer they both wished for me to find.
“Sure, but who truly has more to lose? Think of who everyone expects to win . . .” He laughed when he saw the look of confusion on my face.
“You have more to lose, and so in a fight, you will invest everything you have. A Lysian fighting you will never truly give it their all, and that gives you a chance. You would fight like your life depends on it while the Lysian may get distracted, arrogant even, and make a fatal error.”
“A Bavadrin’s only hope is to fight a Lysian that is too cocky and thus makes some sort of fatal error.” I couldn’t believe that this was his logic.
“It would be a benefit, would it not?” He arched a brow. “As long as neither has conjuring capabilities.”
“So basically, I would only stand a chance if fighting you?” I said, trying to present a casual demeanor while within I feared the things he may know. Iver snorted, and I added, “It would be better to not rely on an opponent’s error.”
“Well, life is not fair.” He then turned to Eislyn. “Is it?”
“I’m not in the mood, Iver.” Eislyn’s voice was indifferent; however, her gaze turned cold as it cut toward him.
“Tell me, is it pleasure or pain that stimulates your mood this evening?” Unfortunately, he did not seem to care enough to heed her warning. I was thankful that she took his attention away from me. Even as the air around us turned cold and heavy with tension.
“Go away before you regret coming here,” Eislyn replied curtly.
Iver viewed me. “You appear confused. Do you not know the history yet?”
“Iver,” Eislyn warned.
“What history?” I couldn’t keep myself from asking.
“The history of my friends Kole and Eislyn.” He spoke casually while Eislyn’s jaw clenched.
“Well, allow me to enlighten you. You see, Kole and Eislyn were once madly in love and were due to be mated. In fact, that shoulder she always keeps covered bears his mark, a claim as her mate forever imprinted on her skin.”
Iver continued, “But first, there is something you need to know. When he was a boy, Kole used to be head over heels for my sister. Would follow her around like a puppy dog. And eventually, as any neglected pup would do, he finally found someone who gave him the time of day, and his attention switched to Eislyn. Now my sister is lovely, but she is not without flaws. Jealousy overcame her, for even though she did not love Kole, she did love having his eye. So, she set up a plot where she could be alone with him, and she kissed him. But this plot included not only a kiss; she also meant for everything to be seen by the one who held his attention.”
Iver’s gaze cut to Eislyn as he continued speaking of her.
“But that person could not handle such pain and lashed out. She found some skinny Lysian tart and slept with her, thus breaking Kole’s fragile heart.
” Iver looked at me and laughed. “I know you Bavadrins are rigid when it comes to sexuality, but here we are not. One can be with whomever they desire. Eislyn here cares more about fitting with her partner on a personal level rather than caring for their anatomy. Though I doubt the tart was picked for anything other than ease of wielding her into a blade that sliced into Kole’s heart. ”
Eislyn moved so quickly I did not even have a chance to be startled. She used a wooden staff to sweep at Iver’s legs, bringing him to the ground. Moments later, she straddled him, pressing the staff into his neck. His hands gripped the wood, keeping it from crushing his throat.
“If you see me as the evil one who destroyed poor Kole’s heart, then you know nothing,” she panted, tired with rage.
Iver growled before maneuvering out of Eislyn’s hold.
They went round and round. The way Iver moved with effortless grace made him appear untouchable.
Eislyn was not as light on her feet nor as quick, though she got out of every one of Iver’s assaults until he finally pinned her to the ground, her face in the dirt.
He twisted her arm back, and she hissed in pain.
“The entire thing was staged, Eislyn. Iona wanted you to see her kissing him,” Iver growled, anger rippling through him.
“Was it staged for him to kiss her back, for his hands to move over her lower back as if welcoming the embrace?” She bit the words out as if they tasted sour, the pain still raw.
It was a wound that had festered, never closing.
I imagined that it at times scabbed over only to be picked at and re-opened, never healing.
“It is time that the two of you let this go.” Iver spoke through clenched teeth, and it was the first time I had ever seen him anything other than calm and collected. For some reason, he was furious.
“If you don’t break my arm, then I am going to kill you with it,” she growled.
Iver twisted her arm further in response, until Eislyn cried out. There was no hesitation in his gaze, only an icy determination. He truly was going to break it. They were going to destroy one another.
Without thinking, I reached for a staff and stood, pointing the end at Iver’s throat without touching him.
Surprised, he eased the pressure from Eislyn’s arm, and her body relaxed underneath him.
“A Bavadrin standing between two Lysians. That is bold of you,” Iver said, his attention entirely on me. “Just because you did not die last time you faced a Lysian does not mean you are equipped for such a challenge.”
“Please. Stop hurting each other.” My words were a plea.
Iver released Eislyn and rose to his feet. I moved as well, keeping the end of the staff pointed at his throat without touching him. Eislyn rolled to the side and onto her feet as soon as she was able.
My hands hurt from the hold I had on the staff, knuckles turning white.
I was so rigid that I did not have the capabilities to release the weapon when Iver reached out.
Taking it in his hands, he yanked me forward.
By the time I released it, I was already flying towards the Lysian.
He threw the staff to the ground as the distance between us shrank.
His hand gripped the back of my neck, keeping me from backing away.
Strong fingers curved around the tendons of my throat, controlling my head, and forcing me to meet his eyes.
I was in the clutches of power, and the only hope of escape was the fact that his King did not wish for my death.
“Why did you do that, Ariana?” Iver’s voice was incredibly calm.
A tremble scampered through me.
“You were hurting her,” I answered.
“Iver, let her go,” Eislyn cut in, though he did not seem to hear her request.
“And you are not concerned whether I may hurt you? You care for her enough to risk your life?” Gray eyes bore into mine, demanding an answer.
“I hoped I was not truly risking it.”
Surprise touched his features. “By threatening me?”
“That was not my intention. The staff was meant only to provide a buffer between us, to protect me were you to react unfavorably. It was never intended to be used if unprovoked. I never touched you with it.”
Iver smiled and suddenly released me.
I had been trying to pull away from him so when the pressure of his hand on the back of my neck vanished, I had to catch myself from completely falling backward.