Aldaire, his cloak trailing like a shadow, leads me through cobbled streets.
"I'll take you to a special place where they sell scented gloves," he murmurs, though I suspect our true quest lies elsewhere.
We later slip into an ancient shop, its timeworn door groaning as if burdened by secrets. An antique he seeks—a relic forbidden to my eyes. A piece of history left behind since his departure.
The exchange is swift, leaving me with a trinket of unknown worth.
"Let's go," he commands, and we find ourselves in a bustling tavern. Eyes follow us, their curiosity like hungry ravens. From the second-floor balcony, I lock eyes with a woman. Her lips move in rapid whispers, revealing her true nature: a vampire, like the stranger beside her. His gaze ensnares me, a spell woven in moonlight. I smile, unable to break free. Ecstasy blooms, until Aldaire's hiss shatters our enchantment. His grip tightens on the metal cup, and the couple flees, as if a silent message has passed between them.
I dare not argue. Who am I, a mere outsider, to challenge his wrath? I settle into my chair, savoring the aftermath. The tavern erupts—the hooray of old men, the stomping of boots. A solo voice ignites a song, and others join, their voices weaving a tapestry of life. Fists thud, mimicking the rhythm, and for a moment, the world is ablaze with music. It is a symphony of secrets, a dance of shadows, and I, a willing captive, surrender to its magic.
"Do you like this place?" Aldaire's voice rumbles. His concern is a shadow across his features.
"I like to look," I reply, my gaze sweeping the tavern.
He spins tales of his adventures, and I listen, drawn to the humor he allows himself. "The incident, has it occurred before?" I venture, referring to him going mad.
His fingers trace the cup's rim. "After the fight," he admits. "Himley remains in the dark."
"Nor have I said anything," I assure him. "Unless you wish otherwise."
His eyes lock with mine, ocean waves crashing against tempest clouds. A silent conversation unfolds—a dance of fire and folly.
"I'd like to inspect your wound."
"It is healed."
"When we return, I'd like to take a look," I concede.
The tavern's door groans, and I stiffen. It isn't something you can hear with all the yelling unless you have a special gift or you are close to the door. The couple approaches, their faces familiar yet shrouded in enigma.
Alert, I watch them. Aldaire's hand on my thigh reassures me, but my unease lingers. The man's scrutiny is open, and I squirm in my chair. My gaze drops to the girl's ankle, exposed and trembling. She catches my distress, swiftly concealing it.
"Lady Elizabeth is with me," Aldaire introduces her.
His scrutiny intensifies, a hawk assessing its prey. Something's amiss. What game do they play? The tension thickens, and I brace myself. We're about to find out.
"Nice to meet you," I say, clasping the girl's hands. Her fingers squirm, seeking release.
"Let's leave these gentlemen to their private discourse," I propose. My grin is genuine. "How about a drink below?"
Terrified, she hesitates. But I don't wait for her response. I rise, pulling her along. The man scowls, but sitting across from Aldaire mutes his objections. I'll exploit this advantage.
YOU ARE READING
Barracks (War of Hearts)
Paranormal--Updated weekly-- "Why are you following me?" "I am free to roam anywhere within Barracks, am I not?" "Aldaire will be displeased if he sees us together." He grins, leaning in close to whisper in my ear. "Will he? Last time I checked, you two are...
