Dragonkin 4 You're my Mate? No thanks.

Part 13 Facing the wrath

"She must be in one of her moods," I comment to Myrtle.

A mischievous grin on her lips, Myrtle opines, "Young boy, you're really clueless. Aren't you?" Walking to a shelf, she helpfully adds as she arranges the books, "Let this old lady impart some advice. It would be in your best interest to go after Cassy now".

Hearing her words, I am puzzled. Why should I run after Cassy? Wasn't she the one who wanted to leave?

Looking over her glasses, Myrtle shoos me with a wave of her hand, "You dolt. Quickly go. What are you waiting for? Cassy's upset".

"Huh? But she -," I protest.

I am not given a chance to complete my sentence and am promptly booted out of the library by Myrtle.

Searching the hallways for Cassy, I finally locate her in a deserted alcove.

She is standing rigidly, plucking the death out of a flower. As if the flower has done her great injustice. The petals are almost gone.

The idea I suggested to Kristine didn't go so well. Why did the Fates choose Karalianus for me? Grabbing another stalk of flower, I pluck its petals, pondering over my options. My mind keeps steering back to the scene where he's debating with the librarian animatedly. I'm still angry over his closeness to the librarian. For a True Mate, I'm really useless, losing to a recent acquaintance. And an elderly competitor at that. My fingers pinch the stem, imagining it as Karalianus' neck. How I would like to wring it.

Karalianus dreads the upcoming confrontation.

Walking hesitantly up to Cassy, I ask, "I was chased out of library by Myrtle because of you. She told me you're angry. Are you?"

Without looking at me, she continues pulling the petals. "What do you think?"

My eyes drift to land on her dainty fingers. For some reason, they're downright mesmerizing now. "How would I know? I'm not you," I mumble inattentively. I think this must be how a deer feels when watching a crouching tiger.

Throwing her hands up, she lobs the shredded flower at me. "Arghh, I give up. It's futile to hope that you can read the subtle cues. How on earth did you manage to survive in your family with a sister?"

Not sure what she's going to do next, I step back from her. "Because...she's a forgiving sister?" I struggle to formulate a correct answer.

Sighing loudly, "That wasn't a question. It's rhetorical," she says flatly, picking up another poor flower and proceeds to mutilate it like its cousin earlier. The pots are going to be bald soon at this rate.

Feeling insulted by her comment, I request, "Can you be clearer when you're talking to me? You're speaking in riddles and I don't understand what you're getting at half the time".

Her head snaps upright instantly. "Oh, so it's now MY fault, is it?" Her eyes shooting sparks so hot it could start a fire. "YOU are the dense one who can't read the atmosphere and decipher non-verbal cues. Whose fault is it to blame?"

Taken aback by her vehemence, I back away from her cautiously. I have a niggling feeling that the earthen vase next to her might be planted on my head in the next instant. I study the dead, but I have no wish to join them. If anything, I do value my life.

My loose hands slightly outstretched to ward her off, I slowly back off as she takes a step after another towards me. I'm not out of the woods yet. The entire hallway is filled with pots of flowers adorning the window sills. Which idiot thought it was a clever idea to decorate it with flowers? Doesn't he know the pots can be used as a weapon? It sure is easy to lift one and hurl it. Especially by an angry woman.