THREE

The time is now. I have a job to do, and then I'm done.

Balancing his breakfast on one hand, I knock promptly on the door. All I have to do is stick to protocol, not disturb him, and this will be all over. And then the door opens.

 Suddenly this is a bad idea. 

The tray in my hand trembles, the metal lids on china plates shuddering, soft clinks filling the void of silence. I should have convinced Fran to take his breakfast to his room, as all confidence has leaked from my chest, leaving me deflated and flushed with embarrassment. 

He stares at me, being so much more than I imagined. He leans his arm against the doorframe, black long-sleeved tunic thankfully hiding enough of him to tame my wandering eyes. Underneath a fringe of slightly too long, mussed bronze hair, he stares at me, the darkness of his pupil surrounded by a glacial blue fog of cornflower blue. 

My voice no longer works. 

He steps back, a flush of scent hitting me. He smells like the wind, carrying the softest hint of pine entwined with an evocative hint of...cinnamon? Either way, it has my head spinning, as he motions for me to step into the room. I do so with shuddering steps, thinking him through in my head. 

He’s clearly not like me. I was born powerless, and I shall remain that way until I die. Him, however, holds restrained power, it’s appearance reaching the surface of his skin in the form of an icy blue shading across his temples and forehead. It glimmers and shifts under the dull light of his room, one minute being an Atlantic blue, the next being as silver as the mountains.

But he's not just that. Not just the unused power. He's a man, a powerful looking man, with beauty that should exist beyond the realm I stand in right now. His features are not abnormal, but so blissfully Azure Province origin. He has precise, graceful features, from sweeping cheekbones to a jawline like Jessa's; practically cut from glass.

Brushing my thoughts away, I lay the tray upon the surface of the desk, careful not to make much noise. I turn back around, expecting him to continue going about his morning, but instead he stands by the closed door, watching me.

“Will that be all?” I ask, hating the shudder in my tone.

“You’re not from here," he remarked.

We stare at each other, no words spoken for a brief moment. I'm too busy pondering why he is speaking to me like this...why he would even bring that up. Not once has a customer inquired into my origin. Not until now, I suppose.

“Excuse me?” It's all I know how to say. I don't care how handsome he is, I want of here. There is a shadow beneath his eyes, that creeps up to thick, sooty lashes, framing those light teal eyes, that frightens me. But not as much as the colour that rains down from his hairline; that strange marking from restrained power almost like a magical tattoo.

“You’re not from here,” he repeats. His gaze wanders down to my chest, making me flinch. “I can tell a Jade Province born when I see one.”

Before I can be offended, I realise what he is looking at. My hand touches just below my neck protectively, where a necklace hangs. Admittedly, it's a Jade Province tradition, to wear the necklace at all times past your eighteenth birthday. Something about warding off evil spirits. Each is curated by the leader of your village, fashioned around the traditions of your home. Mine resembles my Tani. An eye, with a green emerald in the middle.

I'm not surprised he doesn't recognise me from my looks alone. I got Golden Province looks from my foreign father - fair hair, which since moving here, has leeched a lot of it's shine as it has not seen the sun in weeks, and eyes as blue as the ocean there.

“Will that be all?” I practically whisper. Although I refuse to lower my gaze, I can't look at him, instead pinning it past his shoulder, at his immaculately made bed. I was meant to do that.

I go to step past him, but he moves in front of me. “You’re scared of me.”

Well when you do things like that, yes, I get scared.

“Do you say everything like a fact?” I retort, with less vigour than I intended.

It's not the fact he is blocking me in here that is so frightening. I know that if I were that desperate he would let me past. It's the way he looks at me, like he's trying to figure me out. Yet I don't think I'm that interesting to be interrogated by this man. If he ignored Jessa, I don't understand why I would peak his interest so much.

There is the slightest tilt to his lips. “You have very fascinating eyes.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He’s toying with me, maybe. Either that or these plain hazel eyes really have taken his interest. That can’t be the case, when he’s staring at me with eyes touched by snow, silver wind and ice. Cold, consumed in shades of sapphire blue, like the many facets of a real gem. I’ve met him this one time, and yet I see his spirit. Say what he wants, do what he wants kind of spirit. I’ve never been so convinced he’s what people say he is. A Hunter, in whatever way that means. 

This time, when I brush past him, he lets me. For the briefest of moments, our shoulders touch, my breath getting caught in my throat. Turning around, I back up a few steps, my hand reaching for the doorframe. 

"You're not curious?" He asks. With one sweeping look over me, his gaze again finds mine. My cheeks flush red, and suddenly my outfit feels too loose in all the wrong places, hardly flattering at all. But why would I want to impress him? With brown slack pants and a jacket to match, I’m not feminine, or pretty or fascinating. I hate that I care.

"Excuse me?" The words come out all bent and shuddery. 

"The other servant girl had a lot more to say to me than you," he comments. I can’t tell if he’s taunting me, challenging me or what. "She wanted to know if I'm a Hunter."

Maybe it’s a trap, but I can’t help myself. "Are you?"

"Does it matter?" He asks. 

There. The briefest flicker of vulnerability that looks so foreign on him. I’m assuming he’s testing the waters upon arrival here, seeing what civilians say about him, whether he is safe here. I could tell him everyone fears him, but surely by my reaction he’s gathered that already. 

"I suppose not," I murmur, before turning toward the door. "Have a good day sir."