Chapter 5; Silent Battle Of Wills

The mansion remained as tranquil as the day before, yet now, sunlight streamed through the towering windows, casting enchanting shadows upon the plush velvet carpet adorned with intricate golden patterns. This place exuded opulence and grandeur.

Asterin and Astrea strode ahead, their murmurs barely audible, tempting me to strain my ears in hopes of catching a snippet of their conversation. At last, we halted before a colossal golden door, its brilliance nearly blinding. It could only be genuine gold, a testament to the extravagance of this estate.

With a firm knock from Astrea and synchronized movements, Asterin and Astrea swung open the door, revealing a breathtaking sight: the dining room. Its ceiling soared to dizzying heights, reminiscent of a royal castle. Rich hues of gold and crimson enveloped the space, evoking a sense of regality. Golden raven statues perched at each corner, adding an air of mystique to the already majestic ambiance.

One of the pixies cleared their throat, though I couldn't discern which one. My gaze finally settled on the figure seated at the head of the long table, draped with luxurious red and golden swirls. His eyes bore into mine, golden brown with long lashes fluttering as he blinked. He must be the lord of this grandeur. Adorned in a black coat intricately detailed in red, he exuded an aura of authority.

A golden goblet paused mid-air in his hand, likely halted by my entrance. His slim, elegant fingers adorned with gleaming rings added to his imposing presence.

Taking a hesitant step forward, then another, and another, I found myself standing at the opposite end of the table. With a mere wave of his hand, Asterin and Astrea departed, leaving us alone. A chill crept up my spine, accompanied by a nervous sweat. 

Though he hadn't uttered a word, his mere presence was daunting. He remained motionless, almost statue-like, as our gazes locked in a silent standoff.

"It's rude to stare," his voice finally broke the silence, surprisingly sweet, a melody I never imagined hearing in this lifetime. "Take a seat."

As I settled into the plush chair, my eyes widened in surprise at the sight before me. The table was adorned with an array of exquisite dishes, each presented on golden plates and bowls. Silver utensils gleamed beside them, neatly wrapped in linen napkins. It was a feast fit for royalty, a stark contrast to the strange concoctions I had half-expected.

I couldn't help but marvel at the sight of real food, each dish a masterpiece in its own right. The aroma wafting from the table tantalized my senses, stirring a hunger I hadn't realized I'd had.

"Please, help yourself," the lord gestured graciously, his eyes softening slightly as he observed my reaction to the spread before me.

The words of a poem my mother used to sing to me and Edina echoed in my mind. "If you see a faerie, don't turn your back on them, don't collect their food or drink their wine. Faeries don't lie, but they are skilled manipulators."

The lord's goblet hit the table with a gentle thud, interrupting my thoughts. "I assure you, it's not poisoned," he stated calmly.

My gaze shot up to meet his, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling tranquility. He was far from the creature described in the cautionary tales. No horns, no sharp teeth, no beady eyes—just a man, albeit a mysterious one.

"You seem hesitant to partake of the feast," he observed, plucking a strawberry from the bowl and taking a casual bite. "Or perhaps it doesn't meet your refined palate? I hadn't realized a girl from a humble village would have such discerning tastes."

My fists clenched at his insinuation, anger bubbling within me. "I did not come here to be insulted," I retorted, my voice laced with defiance.

A smirk danced across his face. "No, you didn't come here seeking insults. Rather, you came to embrace whatever fate awaits you."

"What? To endure punishment for the supposed crime of my ancestors—stealing a mere trinket?"

The Lord halted mid-bite, his gaze fixed on the fruit bowl before slowly shifting to meet mine. "Mere trinket?"

Had I said too much? A flicker of annoyance seemed to flash in his eyes.

"Whatever that trinket meant to you couldn't have possibly amounted to the life of girls who had their dreams stolen from them"

 Running his hand through his dark raven hair, a few strands cascaded back onto his face. His fingers toyed with the edge of his lips as he seemed lost in thought. Though I couldn't decipher his thoughts, it felt as though he could discern mine. He seemed to detect my suspicion regarding the food's safety.

With a snap of his fingers, the table's offerings transformed, presenting an array of meats, fishes, fruits, and baked treats that were entirely unfamiliar to me. His gaze returned to me, devoid of the earlier annoyance. "Is this more to your liking?"

"I had no issue with the previous selection," I countered.

"Liar," his tone carried a hint of amusement. "Humans are terrible liars . Nevertheless, indulge. You're scarcely more than a skeleton."

As Asterin had pointed out, my appearance was alarmingly skeletal. With trepidation, I began to eat, starting with the fruits before moving on to the bread and then the meat. I devoured each morsel as if I hadn't enjoyed a proper meal in ages—which, in truth, I hadn't. Throughout, his gaze remained fixed on me, his own meal momentarily forgotten.

"You're the first of your lineage to bear such crimson hair," he remarked casually, breaking the silence.

I stifled a burp before taking a sip of water, feeling uncomfortably full. "Why does that interest you? The fact that I possess red hair."

He shook his head, a familiar amusement playing across his features. "It's hardly intriguing. "Just an observation," he replied cryptically, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

I couldn't shake the suspicion that there was more to his interest in my hair than he revealed. But before I could dwell on it further, the dining room door burst open, and in strode Rhaenan, his blond hair gleaming in the morning light, a smile adorning his face.

"Ah, how delightful to join you for breakfast," he exclaimed, taking a seat at the center of the table. "And with my favorite new companion. Maerwynn, I trust you had a restful night? This place can be quite imposing after dark."

I nodded. "I slept soundly."

The Lord scoffed. "With a knife beneath your pillow all night, and even now, one nestled beneath your chest."

Rhaenan's eyes widened in surprise before he erupted into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. "Is that so?"

"Defiant, this one" the Lord remarked, his gaze fixed on me as he sipped from his golden cup.

"I am not," I retorted, my patience waning.

"Don't be offended. Sometimes defiance is a blessing."

"Now, Valen, forgive me for interrupting your meal, but there are matters requiring attention," Rhaenan interjected, his tone sobering the room's atmosphere in an instant. The Lord's expression darkened, signaling a shift in the conversation. My curiosity peaked.

"What's the matter?" inquired Valen

"There's troubling news from the gate. It's deteriorating rapidly. A tear has formed, allowing otherlings to slip through, disrupting the forest peace."

I furrowed my brow, perplexed. What gate? What tear? And what were otherlings?

Valen resumed his meal with an unexpected calmness. "How did you let it spiral out of control?" he questioned, his tone surprisingly composed.

Rhaenan's demeanor had shifted drastically; gone was his usual joviality, replaced by a grave seriousness that hung heavily in the air. The atmosphere in the room grew tense, almost palpable, as if it could be cut with a knife. Just then, the dining room door swung open, and another faerie entered. Clad in leather adorned with gilded metal and belts, he exuded an air of authority.

"My Lord, the courtiers request an audience with you," he announced with a quick bow, his hands pressed to his chest.

Valen dabbed at his lips with a napkin before fixing his gaze on the newcomer. "What am I doing, Jullian?" he inquired, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation.

"Y-you're... you're having breakfast, my Lord," Jullian stammered, looking as though he might faint.

"So you see," Valen sighed, a sense of weariness creeping into his voice. 

Rhaenan's head hung low, his gaze fixed on his plate as he picked at his food with a sense of unease palpable in the air.

Valen continued speaking, his tone calm yet commanding. "Now, Jullian, explain why you would dare to disrupt my lovely morning meal."

I found myself caught in the middle of an intense stare-down between the two men, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills.

"Th-the courtiers, sire... they seek..." Jullian's voice trailed off, his hands trembling as they clutched at his throat. His eyes widened in terror, the color draining from his face. A shadowy tendril coiled around his neck, squeezing the life out of him. I dropped my fork in shock, my heart pounding in my chest as I witnessed the nightmare unfolding before me.

Jullian made no attempt to fight back or flee, resigned to his grim fate. Revulsion, fear, and anger surged within me as I watched Valen's cruel display of power.

As Jullian fell to his knees, gasping for air, a voice—my own voice—suddenly broke the tense silence. "Stop," I pleaded, my hands clenched tightly on my lap. "Please, you're going to kill him."

All eyes turned to me, but my gaze remained fixed on Valen, whose golden eyes blazed with fury. His gaze bore into mine, as if daring me to defy him further.