Incarnate

Chapter 5

Incarnate
Chapter Five
(Maeve above)

In the room that is twilight and shadow, the notion of sin lingers in the crossings of his mind.

It lay, distorted and mangled, amidst the grandeur of the office writhing against his nature in a sense that drags Matthias to the brink of insanity.

Sin stole into his mind like a deranged thief, it's body draped in allure as it accustomed itself with the most embittered and estranged parts of him.

Nestled before the baroque material of the bureau's pasty walls, Matthias silently flinches against his own corrupt desires, his acrimony evident as it falls from his frame in a lingering drift, making his nature recoil in its ferocity.

Shades of carmine and crimson dance across the planes of his face in the window's reflection, fluctuating amidst the fevered flames of the fireplace. The flames are frantic in their delicate waltz, tattooing and wavering among his clarified skin in the denseness that taunted him at that hour.

    The window possessed that patina of age over its embellished frame, yet the shadow of himself reflected was distinct and one he hadn't seen in years.

   He had appeared primitive.

The witch, he cursed.

   The planes of his face were celestial in its grace, the same way his mother's was yet everything about him appeared feral. His hair was native and his beast was regarded in the obsidian pools of his eyes.

   In the counterpart of the reflection, the woman that entered the room was tranquil. Her eccentric features were composed and Matthias detested the nameless stranger in that moment.

   "Your Highness," the woman's voice was vigorous as it filled the room, calling to the indistinct figure of his King groveling in the corner.

   Clenching his jaw, his nature bristled at the presence of her. He had been hostile in regard to every individual he encountered after the witch.

   "I requested Echo. Where is she?"

The woman's skin was much too pastel and polished to have resembled the elder woman and while they were both of African descent, there weren't many similarities. The woman had long, unruly braids, freckles that embellished her whimsical features and a lean frame that was not acquainted with Echo's pudgy silhouette.

"I should kill you," he turned to face the feeble woman with a sapless expression.

She faltered, her lower lip trembling as she grappled for words.

   "Y-you cannot," she stuttered, lifting her head in order to assert herself. "Doing so will make the Treaty between the Tinsley's and the Chauncey's invalid."

Matthias's lips lifted into a nearly wicked grin.

His father would never forgive him for shattering a treaty with such a devoted and influential line of witches, but he savored the scent of unease that stimulated from the naive girl.

"So she speaks," he hummed. "Tell me then, girl, why is Echo not here if she values your life and the Treaty as such?"

The girl swallowed, narrowing her dark eyes on the plush fur that adorned his mahogany floorboards.

"My grandmother is ill," she whimpered. "Please, she does not know I have come in her place."

Silence stretched amidst the confinements of his office and the King allowed his gaze to stray to the tresses of contained her on his desk.

He needed another witch to sever the curse the other woman had put on him and his Beta and if he had to settle for the inexperienced Tinsley, he would.

"What is your name?"

"Maeve," she stuttered.

"Come, Maeve," he urged, his hand clutching the container as he lifted it for the girl to see.

"I want to know the name and clan of the woman this hair belongs to."

The girl gathered herself, hesitantly taking the substance from the man's palm and removing the gentle fibers from it. Enclosing her palm around the hair, he watched with irritability and her eyes fluttered close and the wind shifted around them.

Maeve gasped, releasing the long tresses from her grasp as if they had scorched her delicate palms.

"What did you see," Matthias snarled impatiently.

Her almond shaped eyes were wide with jubilation and a slight panic and the sudden grin that appeared on her lips unnerved him.

"Her name is Diana," she revealed. "She does not belong to any clan; she is not a witch, Your Highness."

Matthias's lips curved into a grimace.

He did not comprehend what Maeve was trying to inform him of. If she was not a witch then what was it that drove his nature to nearly embed his canines into her tender flesh. Why did every ounce of him yearn for her when he had a beautiful and fertile bride already?

"Impossible," he growled. "Then, what is she?"

"She descends from your kind; a purebred she-wolf. It shouldn't be but the Moon has gifted the both of you with something sacred," Maeve raved. "She has Bonded you to the woman."

   He loathed the words that befell her lips.

He was betrothed to a woman from an esteemed family; how could he possibly be Bonded to a prisoner?

   His mother had shared with him fables of Bonded lovers in his adolescence; how the Sacred Bond of the Moon consumed lovers and how deep the connection tended to be.

"How do I undo it?"

He knew the answer already.

"There is no way to undo a Bonding," she frowned. "It is a blessing."

For Matthias, it was no blessing.

The woman was undoubtedly bewitching, yet his father would do malignant things to her if he were to discover of their Bonding.

"I trust that you will tell no one of this, Maeve," the King uttered perilously. "Not a soul."

"O-of course, Your Highness."

"One of my guards will escort you home," he turns his back to the girl, incapable of witnessing the somber expression that overtook her face as he uttered his next words.

"Bid goodbye to your grandmother. Inform her that you will be residing in the castle under my care and my protection so long as your services are needed."

A startled gasp filled the room.

"Why," she sobbed.

"I want to ensure this secret is enclosed between you and I," he fabricates. "Now, Colonel Oliver will escort you home."