*First title in the Immortal Series*
"He's the one they tell you never to make a deal with."
After her parents agreed to give her to the infamous immortal, Fate, once she reached a certain age, Zayla has accepted her life as over. But not without a...
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Word Count: 1725
~Zayla
Fate won't stop staring at me while I chew my pastry.
"You look troubled."
My eyes narrow on him, swallowing what was in my mouth before I even consider talking. I'm confused, at the moment. Fate hasn't spoken to me very much about my father coming back since we made it back here, to his home last night. This morning, when I woke, I was anxious and excited. My father is really coming back.
"I'm not troubled," I say simply, folding my hands on my lap. Fate leans back in his chair, holding his cup up to his lips, regarding me silently.
"Don't give me that look," I snap.
I hate when he does that. He watches me with that look in his eyes, not letting a single opinion of his slip. That expression is burned into my mind. A very slight wisp of a smile on his lips. A quirked eyebrow. That unrelenting, searching stare. It pins me everytime, making me feel utterly vulnerable.
"You look like you have a lot on your mind," Fate murmurs, sipping at his milk. It's warm. He likes it like that.
What has been on my mind recently, that I wouldn't dare relay to Fate, is what Faye said to me. She told me to observe Fate's habits in order to understand more about him. So far, I've been concentrating on that so much, it is starting to do my head in.
He always disappears into his quarters after wishing me a goodnight. Then I don't seem him until morning. I know nothing of his habits. Only of what he eats. And that's because of Faye.
What else is to know?
A lot, in fact. Sure, he has given me a way of escaping this life, but what if what he has planned for me is so horrid, I can't do it? Or what is this is all a con for something bigger? I still don't trust Fate. So I've been attempting to notice things about him. To understand him. But it has proven difficult when he shuts his door on me every night.
"Nothing is on my mind," I tell him quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice the stretched silence. He sighs through his nose.
"You act as if you can lie to me."
I swallow. "You don't know me."
He takes a moment before he replies. He still watches me. While his gaze remains strong, mine wanders from the glass of milk in his hand, to my breakfast in front of me, to the crystal water lapping against the golden sands. If only I could see inside his mind.
