The Awakening

Chapter Twenty Five

"Fun?" Avelon's eyebrows arched defiantly, her gaze sharp as she tried to mask the unease gnawing at her insides.

The ambient light of the hall cast shifting shadows on Ernin's face, making his smirk seem almost predatory. She eyed him suspiciously. He wore a simple, loose hanging white tunic and dark brown leather pants. His dark black boots were fit for a guard and stood out against his brown leather pants. His wavy hair was pulled into a neat bun which made Avelon want to chuckle. She did not favour the look but understood why some Fae would. She bit down on the mocking smirk she wanted to offer Ernin. His look was casual and inviting, though his presence had her squirming beneath her composed exterior. To her own dismay, the reaction was not for any good reasons.

Despite the instinctive urge to frown and curl her lip in distaste, she forced a mask of determination and wittiness to shield her discomfort. Her fingers drummed silently against her side.

"Oh yes, I do remember the rags you wore the other evening. You were quite the spectacle." Ernin's eyes glinted with an inscrutable emotion. She sneered distastefully, causing the glint in his eyes to brighten.

"Honestly, not interested." Her gaze lingered over him with deliberate coolness, emphasizing her disinterest.

"But given your ample attitude, I assume you're as healthy and fit as a fiddle. I doubt I need to watch you for much longer to prove that." She punctuated her words with a dismissive roll of her eyes, noting how his smile widened at her words.

He pushed himself off from leaning against the centaur to approach her. His movements were deliberate, each step intentionally slow as if he were savouring the effect he had on her. Her frown deepened as she squared her shoulders. She was determined to slap his cocky grin right off his face.

"I can show you just how fit I am?" His voice was laden with a suggestiveness that made Avelon's stomach churn, an almost nauseating mix of repulsion and disgust swirling within her.

She resisted the urge to gag. While he was by no means hard on the eyes, the general idea of him, had her insides curling and knotting with unease. She promptly held up a hand, steering her look away from him to compose her reeling temper.

"Are you always this way?" She let the words drip from her tongue with careful precision and disgust, her eyes narrowing slightly as a frown etched itself onto her face.

For a moment, Ernin's confident facade faltered, and his smile dropped. A shadow flickered across his face, something vulnerable that he quickly masked as he looked away and took a step back. His posture stiffened as if he was uncertain of how to respond. He ran a through his unruly blonde hair, the soft curls at the ends catching the light in a way she had not noticed before, a detail that seemed oddly out of place.

"Anyway," Avelon sighed, a trace of impatience in her voice as she dismissed his internal struggle, "How are you feeling, generally speaking—after what happened?" Her tone was flat, betraying none of the curiosity and anxiety that danced in her mind. She did not know what he was capable of, but she was determined to see beyond the façade he presented. They all had their roles to play, as Lugh had suggested before.

Her eyes scrutinized him, looking for cracks in his veneer of charm and danger. She experienced the disgustingly, unfiltered, flirty and dangerous persona he liked to portray. Balor's son and Brianne's brutal ex-lover. Some part of her hesitated, recalling the darkness that followed him before he proceeded to try and kill Brianne.

He had to have been influenced.

"Well?" She snapped, her voice cutting through the silence with a lack of compassion that was almost tangible.