CH.7 The golden-eyed stranger
Iris worked hard all day long to make her stepmother and stepsister dresses by the full moon.
Many ladies came to her asking for dresses for the ball, but on her stepmother's orders, she had to refuse each one.
No one was allowed to have a more beautiful dress than theirs.
No one was allowed to have an enchanted dress.
Iris worked on them day and night. She hardly slept, she hardly ate. Her stepmother was constantly checking on her.
"If I have to slave for you, I'd like some privacy," Iris told her as her stepmother rummaged through the fabrics and drawings of dress designs. She didn't like it. She never let Jace do it, either.
"I just want to make sure you don't let us down. You know what the consequences would be," her stepmother said.
"And how do you know that after you put on those clothes, you won't turn into toads?" Iris gave her a challenging look with a spark of malice. She liked to see the flicker of fear and panic in her stepmother's eyes.
It was a pretty good idea, she had to admit.
Turn them into frogs and the only problem left would be their croaking.
For a brief moment, she actually considered doing it.
But she wouldn't stoop to their level of evil, she told herself.
That wasn't how her mother had raised her.
But still, the thought brought a smile to her lips.
"I'll keep my part. You should keep yours, especially," she calmed her fears. "And now I would like to ask for privacy and for you to never come here again, madam. At least here I deserve to have peace from you."
"If you do what you should, you'll have it soon."
Iris wouldn't let them see their dresses until the very last moment.
Every time they tried to peek, she would throw a sheet over them to hide them from their greedy eyes and slam the door in their faces.
It wasn't that their presence would ruin the magic she was putting into the dresses with every stitch, she just didn't want to listen to their complaints and suggestions for alterations.
It took her forever to sew them anyway, so she let them believe it.
Until the very moment, she kept them to herself, hesitating whether to truly do it.
?
Iris knocked on her stepsister's door. She brought her a dress for the ball. Anastasia, full of enthusiasm and excitement, opened it, grabbed Iris's hand, and pulled her inside.
"Finally. I was starting to think I'd never get that dress. It took you forever."
"Art takes time."
She spread the dress on the bed. The large skirt covered it completely.
The dress looked as if it were made of real feathers.
It shimmered beautifully in the soft light of the candles.
The heart-shaped bodice seemed simple, not overly decorated, compared to the rest of the dress.
She even created a spread peacock tail for it. The eyes were heart-shaped.
"They're beautiful," Anastasia squealed, almost trembling with excitement.
She even hugged Iris. She pushed her away in shock.
"What the hell was that?"
"You don't have to be so reserved, Iris. I'm just grateful for the beautiful dress."
"That's even stranger."
"Then help me get dressed. I can't be late. Someone will steal my prince."
"With the charm I sewed into your dress, there's definitely no danger."
"You never know if there might be another witch in town."
"I'm not a witch," Iris snapped.
"You're making magical clothes. That's exactly what witches do."
"If I were a witch, I would drag you to the darkest part of the forest at midnight, the darkest hour when all the monsters come out of the shadows and sacrifice you to the devil. But you never know. Maybe I really am a witch."
Anastasia swallowed hard. A chill ran down her spine. For a moment, though, she even stopped breathing. She didn't even blink at the thought. Iris couldn't take it anymore and started laughing.
"You're awful, Iris. That wasn't funny at all."
"Your expression was."
"You'd better help me get dressed. That's at least one thing you're useful for."
She tightened her corset until she almost lost her breath. She tied a crinoline around her waist, which brought volume to the skirt of her dress.
"Doesn't it bother you at all that you don't know him?" Iris asked her, a question that helped her cope with her pain. "What if you don't love him?"
"Love doesn't matter. He's a prince. He's rich," said Anastasia.
"What if he's bad... cruel?"
"If I keep getting new clothes and living in the comfort of a palace, I don't care."
Iris just rolled her eyes. She was so shallow and superficial.
She helped her put on her dress. She tied her peacock tail and put a crown in her hair, like the ones worn by peacocks. Anastasia looked at herself in the mirror with mute amazement. She couldn't get enough of the sight.
"Do you like them?" Iris asked her.
"They're amazing." She started jumping for joy.
The prepared stepmother and Anastasia met in the anteroom, waiting for the carriage that would take them to the royal palace.
"You are beautiful," the stepmother praised her daughter. "Even without a spell, the prince wouldn't be able to resist you."
But suddenly her eyes fell on Iris, who was just descending the stairs of her tower of exile.
The sight took her breath away. She looked like a dark angel fallen from heaven.
Like a beautiful, sweet nightmare. Dressed in a black dress made of fabric that looked like reptile scales.
A high slit revealed her naked skin as she walked.
The neckline of her dress was decorated with silver chains like a kind of armor.
Dragon wings loomed on her back. Black silk gloves reached down to her shoulders.
Her gold-colored hair was upturned, revealing her slender neck.
With a graceful step, as if she were floating, she descended from her cursed tower.
Her stepmother and Anastasia looked at her as if she was a miracle.
"What's that supposed to mean?" said the stepmother, her voice filled with fury as she shook off her daze.
"All the maidens of the kingdom are invited to the ball," said Iris.
"But you're not going anywhere," said the stepmother sternly. "People would be scared of you. Do you think you have a chance of impressing the prince? A nobody like you?" she laughed at her.
"I made you the dress you requested. Do you really think I'm interested in a prince?" Iris laughed in disbelief.
"Devil knows what charms you've sewn into this dress."
"I just want to meet with the young man I was with at the dragon festival. He is an apprentice in the royal palace. I want nothing more than to see him again," Iris demanded. "Take me with you. I am no threat to you."
"Of course, you're not," laughed the stepmother. "You definitely didn't put much effort into those dress of yours."
She took the soft fabric of the skirt between her fingers, where the slit ended.
"The stitches aren't tight at all. The fabric is just hanging by a thread."
She yanked it and tore it. She tore off a piece of fabric, revealing a softer one underneath. Iris gasped in shock.
"And those chains are just hanging there."
She grabbed the chains and tore them. She tore her dress. Iris wanted to back away, but she grabbed the skirt of her dress tightly and tore the fabric again and again, tearing it apart. It hung only in places where the stitches refused to come loose.
"Very poorly sewn."
"And those wings are funny," said Anastasia.
She grabbed one of the wings and tore it from her back. It fell lifeless to the ground, like all her hopes. Iris fell to the floor. Tears burned in her eyes. She took the torn wing in her hands, on which she had spent hours working. And now it was all for nothing. They had destroyed it.
"Why are you so cruel?" she didn't understand. "I've always been kind to you, I've fulfilled your every wish, and you've treated me like dirt."
"Do you think I enjoy looking at your father's beloved daughter all the time? A daughter who looks so much like the love of his life? And your naivety. How you believe in true love."
"What's wrong with believing in love? When we can't even rely on our heart, what we have left in this world?"
"I must admit that I see a piece of myself in you.
I was also so naive once. I left a great inheritance and the title of Baroness only for love, and then that love betrayed me.
He left me for another. And when I found a new man, fate took him away from me too.
But I could never replace his beloved first wife.
And I was left with you, Iris. His beloved child.
But I'm doing you a favor. The sooner you stop believing in fairy tales, the easier life will be for you. "
"I will never be as bitter as you," Iris said, refusing to be broken. She tried to hold the cracked shards of her soul together.
"It happens to everyone eventually."
She picked a burgundy iris flower from her hair. She examined it carefully.
"A beautiful flower. But time will take it and destroy its beauty."
She dropped it to the floor. She trampled its fragile petals and crushed it. Just like her.
Iris fought back tears. She didn't want them to see her weak, to see that she had been broken.
She just wanted to see Eddie again, that mysterious young man from the Bonfire night, who had evaporated with the first rays of dawn as if he were just a dream.
And they had taken that from her. They had taken her hope.
That somewhere out there in the world, something more than this life was waiting for her.
She watched them get into the carriage with a twisted plan to catch the prince.
And she helped them do it. She watched their carriage disappear into the darkness of the forest. And only when she lost sight of them and they of her did she allow that lone tear to roll down her cheek. And more and more followed.
She ran to her mother's grave at the edge of the forest, where she was left to rest forever in its shadow.
The hanging pieces of fabric from the remains of her dress tangled under her feet.
Tears blurred her vision. She could see almost nothing through them, only the blurry darkness of the night ahead.
She tripped over a pebble sticking out of the ground and fell to her knees.
She hit her wrist, but it was definitely nothing compared to the pain inside her.
Cracks penetrated her entire soul and blood seeped through them. It hurt. It hurt so much.
"I've tried to be kind and brave, Mother, just like you taught me, but I don't know how much longer I can take," she told the dahlias growing all around her grave. "It hurts so much," she sobbed.
She was breaking down. Her innocent tears sprinkled the ground.
She was drowning in the depths of her own despair.
A dark veil enveloped the whole world. Fate was so cruel to her, and Iris had to face it without relenting.
Who in the heavens hated her so much to put so many obstacles in her way, she was asking herself. Who?
"Why did you leave me here alone?" she looked at the tombstone that bore her mother's name. "Why did life take you and my father away from me? I was left all alone. I need you."
She lay down in the flowers that adorned her mother's grave.
She longed to lie there forever. To merge with the landscape.
To be absorbed by the ever-changing seasons.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the stars, they seemed kind of dark tonight.
As if they hated her too. She allowed the pain she had kept inside for so long to surface.
"Not completely alone." a strange voice said.
Iris opened her eyes. She saw a man standing above her, dressed in an elegant, black suit made of the finest fabrics.
She could recognize him at first glance.
An unruly strand of raven hair fell into his eyes.
Oh, those eyes. It wasn't his beauty, his young face that she noticed first. His eyes.
Eyes the color of gold. The ones her mother had warned her to not to look into.
But she couldn't look away. She stared dazedly into those eyes, lost in them.
Everything around her melted away. For a moment, she forgot about the whole world.
She had never seen eyes like those in her life.
As if they were glowing in the darkness of the night. Bright as sunlight.
With a blink of an eye, she shook off the spell. She sat up abruptly, as if being awakened from a nightmare, and retreated to her mother's grave. She pulled away from the stranger and his bewitching gaze, feeling it crawling under her skin.
"Who are you, sir?" she asked him, her voice trembling.
"You don't know? I would expect you to know me."
"No," she shook her head. "Who are you?"
"Definitely not a fairy godmother, but I offer my services." A mischievous smile graced his lips. There was something strange and disturbing about it. Like a predator smiling at its prey.
"I'm afraid I don't understand you, sir. What do you want from me?" Iris asked him, confused.
"It's not so much what I want from you, but what I offer you, Iris."
"How do you know my name?"
The handsome stranger laughed briefly with a sigh. "So many useless questions."
"So give me the answers," Iris demanded.
The stranger knelt down next to her. She pulled away from him a little more as if the distance between them could save her.
He didn't take his eyes off her. He didn't even blink.
She felt vulnerable under his burning gaze.
There was something special about him, but she couldn't quite place what.
The way he carried himself, the way he spoke, the energy that radiated from him.
It sent shivers down her spine, but at the same time, it fascinated her immensely, drawing her in like moonlight to a moth.
"I know more about you than you think, Iris. I know your secret." He gently took the fabric of her dress in his fingers. "The magic woven into that fabric, coursing through your veins. Not yet fully awakened."
Did everyone suddenly know that? Did everyone know her secret about the magic dress? That it could make a man strong and a woman infinitely beautiful? Was it no longer a secret?
"And... and... how? How do you know?"
"I can feel it. I can see it in your eyes. That spark in them. A spark that could set the whole world on fire. You are special, Iris."
Then a memory flashed through her mind. The day her mother was laid to rest in the ground for eternity.
When dahlias had grown on her grave ever since.
In her mind, she saw that day as if it were yesterday.
She had never thought about it, about that mysterious man standing in the background. But now she remembered.
"I've seen you before. At my mother's funeral."
"And I saw you, Iris. I've been watching you from afar all these years," he said. "Protecting you."
"Why?" she didn't understand.
She didn't feel exactly protected. Not forgotten, but not protected either. Where had he been all this time her stepmother had been tormenting her day and night? Why had he only come out of the shadows now?
"An ancient promise," he replied. "You know, Iris, I knew your mother. It's been a long time." He plucked one of the flowers and sniffed it. Memories flashed across his face. "I knew many of your ancestors. Whole generations."
His words were as mysterious as his entire being. He confused her and she had no idea what to think of him.
"Who are you, sir?" she repeated her question.
She needed to find out.
"Let's drop the formality, dear Iris. Call me Luc. I am your demon. I have guarded your family for ages."
Iris held her breath. Her heart skipped a beat.
A demon. A creature of pure evil that her mother had told her about when she was a child.
She had heard so many stories about them, stories about eternal damnation and evil nature.
Souls dragged into the pits of Hell. The moral of the story, she should avoid them.
Was this the one her mother had warned her about on her deathbed?
Was it his golden eyes she was supposed to avert her gaze from?
Involuntarily, she reached for her neck, where not long ago a protective amulet had hung, which was supposed to protect her from any evil. Nothing protected her anymore.
And there the reason why lay in front of her. She saw his golden eyes on the dragon festival, Iris remembered. It was him. After she gave her necklace to Jace.
She got to her feet and ran away. Luc just rolled his eyes. He liked her defiance, the promise of the hunt she carried. She wasn't going to make it any easier for him.
Iris looked over her shoulder, but he was no longer standing there.
He was gone. She slowed down. She walked backward, staring into the darkness, searching for where he had disappeared.
Suddenly she bumped into something. Someone.
She didn't even have to look, the feeling crawling under her skin told her it was him.
She turned to face him, the demon who longed to feast on her soul.
She took a step back, two. She stepped on the skirt of her dress, staggered, and would have fallen if Luc hadn't caught her. He held her tightly in his arms.
"You don't have to be afraid of me, Iris."
Her gaze fell on the dagger at his belt.
The hilt was adorned with a ruby red as blood.
She reached for it. She gripped it tightly in her hand and took it from him.
She pushed the demon away from her and pointed his own dagger at him.
Luc stared with interest at his dagger in her hands.
A fleeting smile graced his lips. His eyes sparkled.
She was a challenge, and he loved challenges.
"Don't come near me, demon!" she told him, venom on her tongue, but she trembled in uncertainty. "You demons are evil from the darkest depths of Hell. You corrupt even the purest innocent hearts and bring destruction to the world."
Luc rolled his eyes. "Didn't anyone tell you not to judge a book by its cover? You don't know me and yet you judge me because of my origin, little witch?"
"I'm not a witch," she snapped.
"You are, you just don't know it. It's in your blood, just like in your mother's and centuries of your ancestors."
"A word of a demon cannot be trusted. You're lying. My mother wasn't a witch."
"Your mother kept many secrets from you, Iris. She wanted to rob you of your talent and potential. She denied you your destiny, and only because she wanted nothing to do with me. She didn't want her daughter to be tainted by my evil."
"Demons are monsters."
"It depends on the perspective. You're evil in someone's stories too, Iris."
"What do you want from me, Luc?" his name sounded so foreign on her tongue, yet so sweet at the same time. As if it had been woven into her soul all this time, fused with her being, and had finally broken free as it touched her lips. It sounded so familiar and forbidden.
"To help you," he replied. "You want to go to the ball, don't you? To meet your lover again."
She almost forgot. Eddie. The demon standing before her and her mother's secrets had distracted her so much that she almost forgot about the masquerade ball at the palace.
"You won't let your stepmother take everything from you, will you?"
She wanted to tell herself that he was a creature from Hell who could see into her soul, see the desires of her heart, but his words were so tempting. Especially when her heart was broken.
"But what's the catch?" she asked him before she did something she couldn't undo. Something she might regret.
"Maybe a small one." A mischievous grin graced his lips. "It's a barter deal, after all. Something for something."
"And what is the price? My soul?"
"No," he laughed briefly. "I desire more than a soul of yours, my little witch. But that's a question of the future. For now, your acceptance of me will suffice."
"Why? What does it mean that I accept you?"
"It's a small, harmless ritual that bonds us together. It means you accept me as your demon."
He offered her his hand, but Iris still pointed the dagger at him.
"Isn't that a small price to pay for getting everything you ever wanted?"
"You must have waited a long time for the moment when I would be most desperate, unable to refuse."
"I admit that I can choose the perfect moment."
Iris put down the dagger. She hesitantly placed her hand in his. With a gentle touch, he pulled off her glove. The cool night breeze caressed her skin.
"I need my dagger back," he told her.
"For what?"
"Don't worry. It will hurt only for a moment."
He placed the blade against her palm. She didn't flinch. So he allowed the blade to cut through her delicate skin, drawing blood to the surface. It stung a little. He cut his palm as well, and their blood connected.
"I take you for mine, Iris. From now on and forever."
"Don't look into those golden eyes. You won't find anything good in them." Her mother's words sounded in her mind as if they were real. But how could she trust that voice when she had kept secret so much from her?
"I take you for mine, Luc. From now on and forever," she spoke the words he longed to hear.
A strong wind rose. It blew through the treetops, bending their branches wildly.
It ruffled her hair. Luc seemed not even being touched by it.
An incomprehensible whisper floated in the air.
Some kind of foreign language, the meaning of the words remained hidden from her.
She looked around at the landscape shrouded in the veil of night.
As if she expected monsters to jump out of its darkness.
With an unnaturally tender touch, Luc turned her gaze to him.
He looked intently into her eyes, straight to her soul.
He still held her hand firmly in his. At that moment she felt a burning sensation.
Pain stabbed her whole body, knocking her to her knees. She suppressed a scream.
She broke free from the demon's grip. A sinister smile graced his lips.
It was too late. He showed her his palm.
Instead of a cut, it was adorned with some kind of symbol.
She looked at her palm. The wound had healed.
It was replaced by the same symbol Luc had.
A snake coiled in a circle, devouring its own tail.
Its scales were adorned with some strange writing that she didn't understand.
And in the middle was an all-knowing eye. It winked at her.
Her heart was beating like crazy. Somehow she still couldn't believe what had just happened. She was shaking. She still felt like it was just a dream. She cried herself to sleep on her mother's grave and it was all just a dream. No demon or mysterious ritual.
"See, it wasn't that bad."
"Speak for yourself. I felt like I was being burned alive by fire."
"But you made it. You're stronger than you think."
"And that was all? The whole ritual?"
Something about it all didn't seem right to her. It couldn't be that simple. They would hold hands, their blood would mingle, and she would end up forever linked to the demon she was supposed to avoid from afar?
"No, but you're not ready to consummate our bond yet," he told her.
"If it hurts more than this, I don't know if I ever will."
A mischievous smile graced his lips. He took a step toward her, two, letting the space between them disappear completely. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"I can assure you, my little witch, that when it comes, you will scream with pleasure," he said. "And you will never have enough."
"Now I have no idea if you're just being sarcastic or if you're serious."
"Enough about the ritual. We're just wasting time with irrelevant explanations. If you want to go to the ball, you'll need a new dress," Luc said, ignoring the confusion written in her eyes.
"But I don't have any other," said Iris. "If you are a powerful demon, conjure me a new one."
"I told you, I'm not a fairy godmother. But I can try to fix these."
He waved his hand and the fabric of her dress was sewn back together.
As if he were turning back time. The stitches tightened again.
The holes her stepmother had made disappeared.
The silver color of the chains changed to gold.
Even the torn wing grew back. Iris looked at the miracle in amazement.
It seemed impossible. He turned with her back to him.
He hid her face under a delicate, lace mask.
"So that your stepmother doesn't recognize you. You don't want any trouble after she flatly forbade you from appearing at the masquerade ball."
"But I'm afraid I don't have a pumpkin you can turn into a carriage."
"This is not a fairy tale, dear Iris. We demons have better ways of traveling."
He offered her his hand. This time she took it without hesitation and placed her palm in his.
The image before her eyes swirled and changed.
Suddenly they stood in front of the royal palace.
Magnificent and opulent, more beautiful than she had imagined.
She couldn't help but laugh. One moment she was standing in the garden of her parents' house and the next she found herself in front of the palace from her dreams, like something out of a fairy tale.
"You'll have to teach me that."
"That is the prerogative of demons," he said. "However, our bond allows you to summon me at any time, and I will always come." He pointed to the symbol on her palm, hidden under her glove. "Always."