Crescent (Old Version)

+ Part 21 +

I was beginning to catch on to what certain things meant with Ceth.

Most of the time, going days without seeing him was normal. Which meant I could get away with a routine: Breakfast with Moira and Nic before he left for his daily lessons. Walking the grounds and learning about the innerworkings of a castle... and just how much magic it took to run it, to keep every brick standing. Shifting until I could barely move. Lunch in the servants hall. Usually an hour or two to read in the library. More shifting. Then, dinner which was always overlooking the surrounding fortress of snow and ice.

It was a routine I was beginning to find safety in.

There were no threats, none of the bloodshed that seemed to creep into my dreams. And, I always had Moira who knew everything about running it all. She knew where every servant worked through shifts of chores, who worked inside, who worked out. She knew who guarded the grounds, entries, exits, ME.

It wasn't often that I saw Ceth at all, and when I did, it was not without reason. And it was almost never over anything but a meal.

Tonight, it was curried noodles and a delicious melt of cheesy biscuits. For dessert, there was something that smelled like cumin but tasted like spiced chocolate. As he watched me devour the meal, I had made the mistake of beginning an uncomfortably quiet staring contest that lasted entirely because I refused to ask what he wanted until after dessert. I was too starved to wait until anything but.

He tapped his fingers against the table one by one, pinky to pointer, as he looked at me. He wore a tunic embroidered with his sigil at the chest that was low cut enough that it revealed the pale muscled plane of his chest. On it, I noticed three golden chains hung from his neck at different lengths. Attached to one was a simple golden band. I don't think I'd ever noticed it before. I quickly looked back to the steaming food on my plate and pushed it around with my fork.

He considered me quietly and finally smiled, flicking his finger and using magic to push my plate out of my reach. I frowned at him. "I want more from you."

After his party, I doubted I had any more to give. That night had taken every ounce of will I had. I asked, my voice bitter. "Does more not cost... more?"

That elicited a laugh from him. An actual laugh, chuckling like we were old friends reminiscing life. I picked at my plate, fidgeting with the fingers in my lap. "Only if I were paying for you, dear." He tapped his fingers again. "And, I'm not," he finished and snapped his fingers to send my unfinished dishes tumbling down to the kitchen to be cleaned.

I sighed, gripping the arms of my chair in my hands and leaning back as I pretended to act relaxed. My fingers still itched for something to fidget with. "What more could you possibly want from me?"

His eyes glittered now that I finally paid him attention. "A little bird told me your training is going well."

I raised a brow. Saren... "Shifting? That's what you consider training?"

His smile looked forced. Tap, tap, tap, he tapped his fingers. "My father made me shift two times a day, every day, for a year straight." I swallowed as I imagined the feeling of shifting ripple across my body. I gripped the chair tighter between my fingers. "My father made me shift everyday to teach me a lesson. He made me shift until the feeling of my bones breaking was like blinking. Automatic."

Tap.

"Inherent."

Tap.

"It's hard for most wolves. Kills some. It takes real power to withstand that kind of pain."

"What exactly do you hope to accomplish by putting me through the same torture your father put you through?"

He stopped tapping.

The thought of shifting so much terrified me... I hoped he wouldn't push me to shift everyday. I felt on the brink of coughing up my lungs every time as it was, and it hadn't gotten any easier.

"I'm not my father," he said bitterly enough that I knew he resented his father for what he did. For a moment, I almost felt pity. What his father must have done to him to create such a person... "My father was weak. My mother was weak beside him. And, now he's dead and she's hiding in the human realms like a coward." Something in the fire caught his interest, and he stared plainly into the flames. "I told you once that you were pure-blooded. You are. But, I suspect that there's something else about you, Brenna... Something that brought you here to me."

Any pity I had felt earlier was now drowned out.

That something that brought me here, I wanted to spit, was him. And, I hated him for it... for thinking that anything but his own selfishness brought me here.

"I have no doubt you will be strong, Brenna." He leaned forward in his seat. "In time, by my side, you might even be powerful. I just hope you'll be more... " he tapped his fingers thoughtfully again and pushed his chair back as he stood. "Willing," he purred and I felt my fingers nearly split the wood of my chair as I gripped it.

"Willing to do what?" My eyes dug into him as he rounded the table to me and bent my head towards his with a finger. That smirk widened as he watched me struggle not to pull away.

But, he held my chin in an iron grip and pressed a kiss to the bow of my lips. I nearly reeled away from the touch. "Willing to do what it takes."

I finally yanked away from him as his canines flashed and that feral smile returned. He twisted on a heel and slowly started walking towards the door. "Do you believe it was fate?" I asked him before he left.

I had never believed in any gods or in fate or in some higher purpose. But, I couldn't deny that since I'd gotten here, my perception of the world had changed.

Ceth ran a hand through his blond locks as he looked me in the eyes again. He shook his head, a small grin forming at his mouth. "There's something awfully poetic about the concept of fate. But..." He shrugged, one of the most boyish manners I'd seen him make since I'd gotten here. "Why would I believe in something like that when there's the prophecy?"

Prophecy?

He swaggered toward the stairs and casually tossed a glance at me over his shoulder. "Your training will continue as usual. Just think of all the things you'll learn about that your parents never told you..." I felt another wave of rage building in my throat. "The ambassadors will be arriving in five months time. I expect you'll be ready by then."

I would be.

I knew without him having to say it... that if I wasn't ready, if I didn't play my part perfectly, my family wouldn't last the year.