Aureate Fates

2

               LIKE MIDNIGHT RAIN

          —REESE—

The tavern was not for underage persons, but Reese was only one year under, which prompted the friendly barmaid not to out him.

"What's a Red like you doing around here all the time?" the barmaid asked. She appeared to be only a few years older than him with her shimmering smile. The woman eyed him through full lashes. He didn't even know her name, didn't care to find out. 

"A Red like me?," Reese questioned, before taking a short swig of his alcohol. "What does that mean?"

The barmaid seemed to flush a shade of rose, though, under the hazy tavern lights, he couldn't be sure. Reese hoped he managed to woo her, or else he was going to have to fork out money to pay for his several beverages.

"I only mean to say that it's unusual for a Red such as yourself to hang around a dusty pub like ours," the barmaid yielded, cleaning a glass with a worn rag.

A dusty pub, indeed. This early in the morning even more so, for there were only a few people seated at tables. Each drinking alone. Each with their right hand branded with a seal—the letter B.

The barmaid had one also, she didn't seem to be ashamed of it. Though the particular brand didn't occupy Reese's flesh, he felt another type of scarring. One over his mind—in his sleep.

He huffed out a breath and took a longer drink of his beverage. The substance banked the thoughts of his past, created a shield against it. Mercy.

He leaned in closer. "Will I see you at Lavender Festival?," Reese spoke. "I'm sure someone as pretty as you ought to go."

The barmaid gave him a bashful smile, "You're charming."

"Am I?," Reese mused, feeling as though he might wretch all over the poor girl. The effects of Marisol's blood-churning were making their appearance. His magic was helpless against it, as it was with most things.

Training with Marisol before the break of dawn left him exhausted—though he would never admit that to her. His magic trick, the burning mark on her wrist, was as much power as he could master—that, and the tailoring of his hair.

At rare times, when he was kept from his sleep, his hair would revert back to its normal chestnut shade, but he'd never preferred it that way. A dark red hue did just fine.

"But dangerous. I know how you Red men are. You take more than you give," she said, eyeing his blue-beaded bracelet. It was a gift from Marisol, and despite his distaste for the color, he never removed it.

"Not true," Reese rivaled, taking another sip of the bitter ginger rum. "I give more than I have. "

"Is it because you follow the faith?," the barmaid asked, gesturing to his blue bracelet. He almost cursed aloud.

Reese cleared his throat and set aside his drink. "Would you like to know a secret, lovely?"

The barmaid, with her bouncy hair and eager smile leaned in close, revealing imposing cleavage. "Yes," she breathed.

"I'm not really one for temples," Reese admitted, hushed. "I only wear this dammed thing to get into the service on Thursday's. They serve free wine."

The barmaid giggled. Some of the men seated at the tavern tables turned their heads at the sudden disturbance, and the barmaid sent them an apologetic smile.

"You're terrible," she said, whispering her disapproval once the men returned to their drinks.

He took another sip of his beverage all while knowing he wasn't going to pay for it.