Chapter 11
Eleven
“Is something wrong, Little Dove?” Silas cooed from the other end of the table, his wine glass in plain sight.
There had been a few iterations of the plan I thought through, and either option was not entirely a good plan, but with the ash sachet hidden in my pocket, I only had one shot. Since I sat, his wine glass had been empty. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet.”
I dragged the fork across the plate, pushing around sad carrot slices. Time had been hard to keep track of, but after gauging my monthly cycle, it had been nearly a month since the wedding. I held off trying to do anything with powder since the day with Ayla, and still, it burned me to use it.
I shifted, the feeling of the steel bracing my hip. “I just have a lot to think about, that’s all.” I placed my fork down onto the tablecloth.
He lifted his chin and chuckled. “Like, what, making plans of escaping or perhaps concocting ways to send me to my maker?”
I took up my glass, swirling the wine before sipping.
Anxiety ate at my nerves, and the unsettlement of the wine did not help much.
I thought of the mother and the child who were at death’s door because of the man before us—before me.
If I didn’t try today, when would I do the one thing those down in the village could not?
I shook my head, forcing every ounce of courage I can muster, and straightened myself in my seat. “Actually, I was thinking of something far more interesting and involving a lot less-layers. Quite frankly, I have been unoccupied as of late and thoroughly bored.”
I attempted to add sultriness to my voice, the same way I had seen Miriam pull in men with the same soft sweetness of a wicked tongue.
I drained my glass and gave him a quirk of a smile, then held it to the heavens. He motioned to the air, and red wine filled not only my glass but his.
“Tell me, how shall I alleviate your boredom?” Silas sarcastically replied.
I sipped from my glass, staring into those liquid golden eyes. “Tell me a story.”
“What kind of story, Little Dove?”
My feet carried me down to the other end of the table, the soft heel clicking in time to the thumping of my heart and the sloshing of my glass.
I perched at the corner of the table, skirting the edge. I fanned my hand from the folds of my skirt to his thigh where his hand rested. The silver band of vines twisted into themselves on top of his finger—the pair to mine.
Silas’s gaze roamed, palms strained against his thigh and around his glass.
I moved a silver strand out of his face, fingers grazing the scar peeking out from under his mask, the ridge line transcending a valley of pain.
Silas snatched my wrist, growling, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I faltered, surprised by his tight tone.
Silas relaxed his grip, falling back into his chair posture stiff, rubbing at the inner lines of my palm.
The sharpness of his face softened, traveling million miles away to the past of great horrors marring his existence and face.
It was odd seeing him as just a simple man who had lived a torturous existence.
“How did you get those scars?” I softly asked.
Goose bumps raised along my skin, the blade biting into it. The longer I prolonged this, the more guilt I felt. I tried to harden my resolve by thinking of the villagers and the child who was sick from the darkness plaguing them in the form of man.
Pain and regret flashed in his gaze. “If it is a story you want, then it’s one you shall get.
There was a time in which I was not like this.
It was a happier time back then. I remembered playing among the roses.
My mother would also chastise me for wanting to get lost rather than to attend to my duty.
It was on one of these occasions in which I came across an interesting woman among the roses.
“I had seen her there before, watching and pacing the maze of the garden. Now and then, we’d share glimpses, and I’d always made sure to hide my face, as I did not want her to see me any differently than a boy in the garden.
Back then, I was ignorant of the politics of the court or even what was going on in my own backyard.
At that moment, all I cared about was she was lovelier than the blooms. She had been crying when I surprised her.
I did not tell her who I was but rather provided her with some comfort.
Little did I know that she was the woman I was to marry to ensure an alliance. ”
Silas paused, closed his eyes, and tilted his head to the sky.
“We did not know who we were to each other, and yet there we were, oblivious to the problems of our countries. We fell in love shortly, but it was not long after when both countries were thrown into chaos with murders—it became difficult for us to go on as we were. War was called for, and with the loss of my Father, I was the only person standing between hell and paradise.”
Shadows crossed his face, the past haunting him and wearing down the beast. It was hard not to have sympathy for the man that was. My heart tugged at the prospect of what he had been through, the loss of many people in a short amount of time.
“What happened next?” I held his cold hand, letting it come to rest on my skirt.
The blade against my thigh seared into my flesh. Knots rolled through my stomach, as I was sure he can feel the anxiety eating me away.
No matter what, I could not let him persuade me away from my goal. I had to—I needed to do this if not for me but for the true victims involved in the monster’s reign of terror. No matter what, he was still a monster and an evil being that took life.
“The countries went to war,” Silas said. “An assassin had been paid to kill me. I walked away with this scar and my life—they did not. That had been one of many attempts.”
“And the woman?”
Silas hesitated. “It’s not something I wished to discuss further.”
“Cat got your tongue.” I chuckled, touching a finger to his nose to act coy.
I needed to find a way to get me close enough to him to slip the knife out and stab him. At this juncture, my options were colluding with the enemy.
Picking at my nail bed again, I succumbed to thought. Words tumbled out as if they had been trapped in a dream.
“Hatred and love are an interesting combination and one that goes hand in hand. Perhaps in your other life, you were fighting for a lover’s honor or for vengeance.
So powerful, it scorned the land, and lives were upended.
” I reached for him, tracing his chin, forever frozen in time.
“A great war fought by great houses, and yet there you were, loving your enemy in all of this. A tragic love with tragic consequences.”
Silas gripped my wrist. Images played through him as his face melted away.
It was the boy, and his face was hidden behind a glittering white masquerade mask lit by love and joy.
The image spun, as a familiar ballroom swirled around us in glorious color.
His laughter whispered, while soft phantom lips traced the lines of my neck.
Hands cradled the boy’s face, leaning in as anticipation soared and met with the flurry of desire.
I am yours until we are nothing but dust.
Dust to dust, darling. We are nothing but immortal.
“Valeria?”
Silas’s voice snapped the images in my head off, the laughter of the boy fading until it no longer existed. Until he no longer existed. Much to my displeasure, the thoughts and feelings from the image lingered, shadowing the growing anxiety. Hands were on his face, and I was no longer on the table.
Instead, I straddled him with only a hair’s breadth between us to share and lips close enough to taste.
“Are you alright, Little Dove?”
I flickered between his gaze and his lips. The burning knife at my thigh was starting to become restricting underneath my dress. I traced his soft lips, and Silas stiffened under my touch, clutching the arm of the chair as his other hand cradled mine.
For my mission, this is all for my mission, I repeated to myself.
“Valeria, I—”
I pressed my lips to his, and his hand grabbed my waist as his mouth opened to me.
Fire cascaded into me, injecting directing into my skin as flames licked down my body.
Silas’s hands explored, devouring my skin in fine sin.
I wove my fingers through soft strands, tangling them beneath my touch as Silas groaned.
Silas’s lips quirked under mine as a finger traces lazily across my thigh, stroking it higher just under the knife strap. A soft moan escaped my lips as I balled my fist into his blouse and tried to regain control of my thoughts.
“Sweet, sweet Valeria.”
Shivering, I broke the kiss. “Apologies—got over excited.” I placed a finger to his lips, getting up from his lap and depositing myself onto the table, fluffing out my skirt.
I had one shot and one shot only.
His lips quivered. “Eager, are we? And here I thought you hated me.” He stood, towering over only to descend again. His lips crashed against mine with power and need as a frenzy drew us further into the abyss.
I resisted the urge, the very thought, my resolve slowly breaking the lower his mouth pressed against my body.
I wanted more.
Silas’s lips traced the bony edges of my collarbone.
His fist, from the thickness of my hair, fell out of the bun as he cradled my neck.
His other hand was at my back, bracing me, restricting me from receding onto the table.
Silas kissed me with a deep fury threatening to consume us both, breaths moving in tandem as we fought for control over one another.
He pulled away, hovering near my neck, peppering tender kisses. I tilted my head as a moan escaped my lips before a tight gasp took over, pleasure and pain. My fingers scraped at the knife, Silas distracted as he kissed along my body.
I unsheathed the blade, bringing it over his back, fingers shaking against the grip.
For the villagers—for the children. I had to. I needed to do it.
Silas bit down at my neck, and pleasure ebbed and flowed in blissful awareness. My resolve began to shake, and the knife came to rest against my side.
I couldn’t do it. Perhaps I am just a selfish girl.
I gazed out of the corner of my eyes, sharp edges dripped crimson.
Silas tugged his lips back, wetness coating them. Flickering out across scarlet mouth, his pale pink tongue licked my blood off them.
I pushed him away, sending him barreling into the chair.
Silas stared up in bewilderment, his mouth red as the metallic scent lingered.
Among a beast, my own virtue was questioned in a place I knew I could not be selfish—I wanted to be, yet staring at Silas’s inhumane eyes was an indication I couldn’t be.
A shaky hand went to my neck, and I drew it back to see crimson glaring at me.
How long until he kills you?
“Monster,” I breathed. I stifled the emotion, adjusting my bodice and shielding movement to tuck the knife back in. I clutched my neck, trying to regain composure and my own dignity. “You are nothing but a monster.”
“Valeria.” He started to plead and then stopped, face twisting in disgust. His lips curled into a snarl. “If I am a monster, then what does that make you? You came in here practically throwing yourself onto me, and you claim me to be the monster.”
“You—you—”
My chest threw itself into a coughing fit of blood spurting from my lips and onto his blouse.
Silas launched into action, sweeping me up and biting his flesh. “Drink.”
I pushed his hand away, struggling to get my feet under me.
I hated the effect he had on me, hated the fact I wasted my opportunity to kill him—to be of use to the people in the village. To not be the selfish woman I am.
I needed to give my life to the greater good. If I was to die soon, I didn’t have the time to be selfish.
“Perhaps it is best that I am reminded of what you are,” I whispered.
I was nearly out of the door when Silas gripped my shoulder and spun me around, my face meeting his chest. Power surged from him, nails biting into my flesh. Iridescent gold cast down upon me, fury and rage bubbling between the surface.
“Would you like to guess my name?”
“I think beast suits you best,” I said, keeping the knife close under the folds of my skirt.