Aria covered her mouth as she yawned, turning to the side on her bed to glance out of the window.
Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that it was already afternoon. She had slept for far longer than she intended. But her body had demanded the rest. Still, the knowledge that there were more people inside her hut made her wary and conscious.
Her grandmother's warnings echoed in her mind, cautioning her against strangers.
While most of the newcomers weren't overtly hostile, Tristan, had already shown a clear disdain for her. Aria shivered as she recalled the way he had pushed her away from Rayan when the latter had been injured.
A forlorn look passed across her face as memories of Rayan's behaviour resurfaced. Just the night before, during the evening meal, he had seemed kind and gentle, even if their communication was muddled by the language ba
Why did he sometimes act angry, while at other times he was warm? She sighed in frustration. If only she could understand their language, her life would be so much easier.
With no immediate solutions to her worries, Aria gathered her thoughts and climbed down from the bed. As she stepped outside the room, she found the hut bustling with activity. The smell of food wafted from the kitchen, where two of the newcomers were busy preparing something.
Scanning the room, Aria quickly realized Rayan was nowhere to be found. Though slightly disappointed, she entertained herself with her other things.
Her gaze landed on the middle-aged man, sitting in the courtyard. He was sharpening something with a focused intensity that piqued her curiosity.
She approached him, her footsteps quiet as she squatted down to get a closer look at what he was doing. Maxim noticed her presence and paused momentarily, giving her a brief glance before returning to his task. Aria leaned in closer, fascinated by the methodical way he sharpened the object in his hands. It looked sharp and glimmered in the sunlight.
When Maxim finished sharpening, he set the sword aside and made his way into the kitchen. Aria's eyes lingered on the weapon. It looked so beautiful and majestic, a blend of strength and artistry. A strong urge to pick it up surged within her.
Would he allow her to do that? Perhaps she could wait until he was gone.
Biting her lip in anticipation, she glanced towards the kitchen again. Everyone was busy, engrossed in their tasks, so she decided to act on her impulse. Slowly, she approached the sword and grasped its handle.
To her surprise, the sword was heavier than it looked. Still, Aria managed to lift it, her heart racing with exhilaration. A smile crept onto her face, reminiscent of a child playing with a new toy. Why did she suddenly feel so powerful? Perhaps if she had a weapon like this, they would include her among them.
Stronger and fiercer—that's what she wanted to be.
Lost in her daydream, Aria didn't notice Rayan returning from the hill until it was too late. The moment he stepped inside and caught sight of her with the sword, a frown immediately creased his forehead.
"Aria!" he called out, his voice cutting through her reverie like a knife.
Startled, Aria flinched, and the sword slipped from her grip, clattering to the ground. Her heart raced as she turned to face him, his expression serious, lips pressed into a thin line. Was he about to scold her? Panic surged through her.
She lowered her head, instinctively adopting a pose of innocence—one that had sometimes worked with her grandmother. Rayan marched towards her, his frown deepening. She had lifted a heavy sword with her fragile frame. What if she had hurt herself?
"Who allowed you to do this? What if it had fallen on you?" he chastised, his voice stern.
Tears pricked at the corners of Aria's eyes. Rayan was angry at her again.
"Li Honety" (I apologize) she whispered.
The words were a plea for forgiveness that he wouldn't understand. She promised herself not to touch their things again, but she wished he wouldn't be upset with her. She liked the Rayan who comforted her when she choked on food, the one who smiled softly and tried to engage her despite the language barrier.
Meanwhile, Rayan turned to call for Maxim, realizing the sword belonged to him.
"Maxim!"
The middle-aged man appeared quickly, confusion written across his face. He looked between Rayan and Aria, unsure of what had transpired in his absence.
"My Lord..."
Maxim began, but before he could finish, Rayan's cold gaze silenced him.
"Why did you leave your sword here?" Rayan asked, his tone biting.
Maxim's eyes shifted to the sword lying near Aria's feet. Understanding dawned on him as he recalled her curious gaze moments before.
"My Lord, I had just gone to get some water" he said, attempting to explain.
But Rayan didn't allow him to continue. The frustration radiating from him was palpable. With a deep breath, Rayan turned back to Aria, but the damage was already done.
Aria felt a wave of shame wash over her. She realized that she had caused Maxim to be reprimanded, and the thought made her heart ache. Overwhelmed, she felt the tears spilling over, despite her efforts to hold them back. Her shoulders began to shake as she sobbed quietly, and Rayan's expression shifted from anger to alarm.
"Aria..." he called out.
But Aria was inconsolable. In a rush of emotions, she bolted back to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Rayan stood there, staring at the closed door, wiping his face in frustration. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. His eyes were filled with regret.
Why did he keep making her cry?
YOU ARE READING
Allure Of The Witch
Historical Fiction"I...I have been nothing but trouble for you. Leave me to the same place from where you brought me." A tear rolled down her eye as she whispered in a low voice laden with despair. At that moment, he had walked to her, held her face, wiped her tears...
