Love Hurts ((ON HOLD))

Chapter III

Malisa was careful to avoid the patrols and remain quiet as she snuck through the servants' entrance and stairways. She had gone in and out numerous times— she knew every step and stair by heart.

Her mind drifted back to her time with Ander— every touch, every taste— and the promises of finally leaving this place as soon as he had enough coin saved to get them both away safely. And she believed him too. No more quiet corridors, no more silent hallways. No more need to sneak away or hide behind locked doors to escape the ridicule she wasn't entirely sure she deserved.

Removing the key to her bedroom door from the pouch at her belt, she unlocked that bedroom door, looking forward to a few hours of sleep before she needed to wake and meet Demetra for her morning lessons...

... only to see her mother sitting on her bed. Waiting for her.

Lady Anyma was in her nightdress, a light blue that matched her eyes, her black hair loose down her back as she sat with the poise of a woman taught to keep her back straight and her mouth shut.

Malisa's heart pounded in her chest, harder than it had during her romp with Ander. She shut the door and leaned against it, her eyes not leaving her mother's piercing stare.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where were you?" her mother asked with unnerving calm.

"To check on the horses."

"Don't lie to me, Malisa— I can smell him on you."

Malisa forced herself away from the door to move deeper into her room, avoiding her mother as she walked to the vanity mirror. She quickly pulled the loose straw from her light brown hair, picking up a brush and turning to face her mother.

"I don't think I've ever seen you awake this late, let alone anywhere near my bedroom. So again... what are you doing here?"

With a sigh, her mother stood from the bed, turning to face her daughter but not moving to close the distance.

"Boreas... your father... he means well."

Malisa couldn't hold back the scoff. "Apparently I have a malediction that he can't wait to get away from. What does that even mean?"

Her mother seemed the physically flinch. "He didn't mean—"

"Stop lying for him." She slammed the brush back down on the vanity. "Stop acting like he's noble and has good intentions."

"He is doing his best."

"He hasn't done anything for eighteen years!"

"Malisa," her mother pleaded, rubbing at the bridge of her nose, "the stress if running the manor and doing what's best for this family isn't nothing. He's kept you fed, clothed, with a solid roof over your head— what more could you ask for?"

"Love?" she blurted.

"Don't say that," her mother said, her tone harsher than the topic deserved.

"Why is it too much to ask for compassion?"

"Because emotions are dangerous, Malisa. They're a weakness."

"And yet you're attempting to find me a husband."

"Don't believe for a moment it's for a romantic encounter," her mother informed her, her tone almost forlorn. "Not all marriages are for pleasure. Pleasure does not create allies."

"It could if you find the right one."

"And you're free to do it on your own time, at your own risk. In the meantime, you will do what you're told, with whomever you're told to do it with."

"And if I refuse?"

"If you cherished everything you possess, I highly suggest you do not."

The threat in her mother's tone had Malisa perk a brow in assessment. "What if I find someone on my own?" she dared ask, her heart pounding in her chest with her near confession. "What if I can show him that I don't need him to find someone for me, but I can find someone on my own who will take me away from here, and him?"

"And will whomever this may be pay for your dowry?"

"Isn't someone who cares for me be enough?"

Her mother cringed again but had already started moving toward the bedroom door. She placed a hand on the handle but paused, turning back to face her daughter.

"Are you familiar with the god Eros?"

Now Malisa wondered if her mother was well. They never spoke of the gods- her father didn't believe in them. Not a single text in their library referenced them as a painstaking stance against any form of religion.

Lady Anyma continued. "Some say he is the most beautiful being ever to come into existence, and any who catches his eye will be devoted to him forever. Others have said he is the most vicious of monsters, doing all he can to get what he wants from whomever he wants."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

"Love is dangerous, Malisa. Loving the wrong person is even worse. It's better to let them go and live life as your father does?"

"Like a bastard?"

"Like a lord. Like someone who understands the importance of practicality. Like someone who knows caring for someone is a weakness and can only get you— or them— killed."

"And what about you?" There was a plea in her tone. This was the most her mother had talked to her at once, and the most candid she had ever been when it came to her father.

Anyma closed her eyes and shifted stiffly, like someone who has had to carry herself behind a facade more than present herself as who she truly is.

"I learned to stop looking for love a long time ago."

The cryptic response left Malisa wanting to know more, but her mother finished opening the bedroom door and silently slipped out, closing the door tightly behind her.