Lair of Beasts [Book I in the Curse Of Blood Saga]

Chapter XXXIV - The Rift (Lucian's POV)

I withdrew from my father's solar and walked purposefully toward my own. I was uncertain of what welcome, if any, I would receive on entering my chamber, but either way, we would have matters settled between us tonight.

I was vexed at my father for having revealed what should have been Aria's privilege to do in her own time, but my sire had been impolitic and blunt in his delivery; he should not have let her provoke him to discourtesy. It had been her right to realize and announce the tidings herself, but the damage was done and my father's remorse was now his burden to suffer and mend in his own way. I was mollified by that at least: that he now undertook to suffering that regret. Godwin was never wrong and on the rare occasion that he was, it vexed him terribly.

I thought back to the moment in question and pondered her reaction — how her features had blanched with shock. She had been wholly ignorant of her burgeoning condition. 'Twas, however, a fettle that I had discerned days after inception because her scent had changed almost the day after our wedding night.

A child inspired by an enkindled wedding bed, I grinned in satisfaction. But the smile was only cursory.

As I approached my chamber door I heard a giggle issue forth, muffled and softened by the barrier that stood betwixt myself and my young wife.

At first I was outraged, but the burn of fury soon ebbed as logic prevail; and I calmed enough to realize that there was no other male scent here but mine. Thus I became intrigued and stayed my hand at the latch to listen at the door a moment longer. I did not often hear her laugh and I realized of a sudden that, if she never forgave me for being a monster, I never would again.

Aria is a reasonable woman. She will come around. I was certain.

"Are you perhaps the little raven that tried to warn me away from the maze all those months ago?" came her familiar, husky voice. I had always thought it a good voice — strong and confident — even when it faltered or tripped over nerves.

I then, curiously, heard a raven caw in response, the sound rending stridently from within and I wondered fleetingly how a crow had come to be in our chamber. 

"Yes?" she seemed to translate. "Would that I had listened to you then, master crow. I thank you for your efforts, vain though they were. I am myself unfortunately a curious bird; to my own detriment, 'twould seem."

Her words were lorn and bespoke of despair as she continued her strange intercourse with the bird. I might have grinned, amused at her odd inclination to talk to beasts; but that she spoke to me at all was proof of that penchant, and thus not so ludicrous after all. 

I chuckled derisively to myself and entered the room, having delayed the inevitable long enough. I was properly subdued by the thought of how this girl bedeviled and, yes, even scared me. I had never thought to be discomfited by anything, least of all a slip of a girl, yet She affected me as no other could, casting my composure to discord and ruin.

She was a theriac — a medicinal draft, stimulating and intoxicating all at once; and I craved her like a tincture that I could not go without. I had neither required nor anticipated the emotions she evoked. In fact, I despised them! I wanted none of this perilous and tricky sentiment. I trusted it not and understood even less of these matters of the heart. They were naught but a woman's weakness.

The act of ruminating on the subject was like to cause a megrim, so I dismissed the puzzle. My brooding now dispelled, my eyes were then drawn immediately to her, and I grimaced as her shoulders became rigid at my entry. A large raven sat perched on her finger, but no sooner had I entered than it fled out into the night.