Elloreah was visibly tense, sitting ramrod straight on the small couch, staring straight ahead. She was steeling herself for the evening ahead. Belita sighed and curled up at the pale woman’s side, placing her head on her lap. Elloreah absently stroked her hair.
"I need you to listen to me carefully." Her voice was low, her tone firm. "I believe we’ve been found. If I release you from our contract, I need you to leave the grounds. Escape back to your old life. Take our stash, all of it."
Belita sat up slowly her heart thundering in her chest, slipping her arm around Elloreah's, leaning in close. Not now, not after everything, not so suddenly like this. "What about you?"
Elloreah shook her head, refusing to meet the girl's eye. "Hayeta doesn’t know who you are. My sources have confirmed she’s been asking after me, and only me. This is your chance,” she added with a cold finality.
Belita stiffened then, a knot forming in her throat. She'd be lying if she hadn't wished for escape, for normalcy, for her old life.
Elloreah continued, "You will feel the bonds release, your markings will burn subtly and then fade."
Belita's hand went to the still slightly raised edges of her tattoos. Elloreah softened slightly then, turning to her. She took Belita's hand tenderly, guiding her fingertips to a specific row of marks.
"These two, they bind you to me. The rest will stay, the marks of protection, those that shield you against malignant magics, that show you as blessed by one of the Mythics." Elloreah sighed, then, eyes downcast. “But you will no longer be mine.” She squeezed Benita's hand. “It was all just a ruse, but I have to admit, I rather enjoyed knowing you were marked as mine all the same.”
“Reah,” Belita gasped out then, unable to quite come to terms with what she was being told. “This isn’t...You don’t have to...” She rose on her knees beside Elloreah on the couch, leaning into the taller woman.
She touched Elloreah’s cheek, the light scattering of freckles still visible beneath her makeup, and pulled Elloreah’s face towards her own. She studied those beloved features, the perfectly sculpted brows, penciled in dark, the bright green eyes, dulled by stress, her lips, painted a dark blood red, pulled into a tight line.
Belita pressed her own lips against Elloreah’s not caring if the lipstick smudged, hoping only to soften that expression of worry and guilt. A sigh escaped Elloreah and she relented, kissing Belita hungrily. Her hands clutching at the petite woman’s shoulders, and Belita knew she was fighting against the emotions she kept so carefully hidden under a guise of indifference.
“No one will find you,” Elloreah whispered, a breathless assurance as she pulled away. She touched Belita’s face, her eyes willing the girl to understand, to believe. Before Belita could speak, or utter a reply, Elloreah laid a finger tip to her lips. “Be still for a moment. Everything depends upon you.”
Belita nodded, her heart caught in her throat.
“She wants me, only me. Stick to your role, no matter what.” Elloreah paused, searching Belita’s eyes. “Bell,” she whispered, “If you die, I will die too.”
The confession was crushing. Belita nodded, understanding all too well. Her life was precious and fleeting. Elloreah would survive, would live on, no matter what happened, and yet what was a life of eternal grief and guilt? Many were the demons her love fought. Belita couldn’t bear to add another.
“Be careful, Elloreah,” was all she could manage in reply.
Elloreah smiled, and gave her another kiss, short and sweet. “You too, love,” she added, then stood and strode the mirror to check her makeup, a long, perfectly manicured finger-tip wiping away the smudges.
YOU ARE READING
Fabula Obscrua
Short StoryElloreah comes from a world of light and dark, good and evil, and everlasting life and turmoil. She is cast into the land of mortals and faced with the balancing act of being one of the would be gods of this world. These are the stories of her life...
