Scars of Alera

3.

Mr Marule stands in front of me, his head tilted to the side. He has the kind of angular features I can't help but notice. The shadows of his lashes sweeping across his high cheekbones catch my attention. His electric eyes follow my movements closely, and I can't help but feel self-conscious of the dirty state of my dress.

"Mr Marule." My knees shake as I curtsey for him. "I'm pleased to meet you."

"That makes me sound rather old, don't you agree?" His mouth tilts upwards in a way that makes my stomach flip. "Call me Will."

I have just met this man and he wants me to call him Will. Not Mr Marule, not William – Will.

I gather the stones in my arms and pile them back into the bucket. When I look up, Will leans lazily as his eyes trace my hands. I dart my gaze to the ground when warmth flourishes in my cheeks.

"I still wonder what use you have for pebbles."

I brush my hands on my dress. "I – my father is a painter."

Rising to my feet, I leave the bucket on the ground next to all the fallen stones. For some reason, I can't bring myself to pick them up in front of him. Mr Marule is from the palace; he probably finds the concept of painting designs on stones as a living humorous.

"I see." He pushes off the wall and steps towards me with confidence. I hold my breath. "And I don't suppose he would approve of you venturing beyond the wall?"

"Oh no." Blood rushes to my cheeks. "He wouldn't. Not at all."

His mouth tilts into a charming smirk and I almost forget how to breathe. "Yet here you are."

I open my mouth and then close it, short of a retort. He has caught me breaking the rules and putting myself in danger.

As if recognising the panic on my face, he quirks an eyebrow. "I, however, do not."

I frown in confusion and take a wary step back. "You do not...?"

"Disapprove." He leans over to lift up my bucket full of stones and holds it towards me with two fingers. I gape at him. I have to hold the bucket with every bit of strength I have but he holds it like it's nothing more than one stone. "I think it's nice outside the gates."

"It's not," I say darkly. "You wouldn't approve if you knew what lurked beyond the trees."

Mr Marule doesn't seem intimidated; he tilts his head with a curious smile. "And what would that be?"

"Monsters." I shiver.

"Monsters," he repeats, his eyes shimmering under the sun.

"Are you mocking me?" I demand when I see the grin pulling at his lips. "Because I am being quite serious. The forbidden forest is dangerous. The monsters do exist."

"Oh, I am not mocking you." The grin doesn't fall from his lips as he brushes his dark hair off his forehead. My breath hitches in my throat as he leans closer, towering above me. "I am simply disagreeing."

"About the monsters?"

I take a step back.

"About the danger." The smile on his face twists into something more teasing.

My cheeks burn as I stare at him. The way we are talking is so... friendly - as if we know one another much more than we really do. But it doesn't feel improper like it should.

I suppose I should blame the charm that Mr Marule carries, for the effect he has on me is something I cannot explain. I wonder if this is how Imelda felt when she spoke with him, I wonder if he would tease Kenna the same way if they spoke.