Fate

Chapter Forty

Word Count: 1588

~Zayla

I spent hours unsure of what to do.

Fate had gone. He had set me free. Everything is over. Yet I still sit here, feet buried in the sand as I stare out at the shore. The sun is setting, setting a beautiful glow over the water, turning it crimson. Nothing is keeping me here, but I can't bring myself to get up and leave. Not after the way Fate had left.

Now that my anger has cooled off along with the dipping temperature and I've had time to think about it, I regret a lot. I shouldn't have blown up at him like that. I never knew he could be so...sensitive.

Sighing deeply, I heave myself up, legs stiff from sitting. Brushing sand off my legs, I decide I'm going to adhere to what I was contemplating.

I am going to leave. Fate gave me the opportunity I have been waiting for, even if it has left a bad taste in my mouth. Where he went, I'm not sure, but I know he won't be coming back here for a while. It gives me enough time to investigate into the life he has been trying to keep me from.

Wandering through the foyer, I push open the door into Fate's quarters.

This place hasn't been considered forbidden to me by Fate recently, but I still believe it is. He has never invited me all the way, which has only increased my suspicions and curiosity. Today, I'm going to explore, and see what I can find.

His quarters aren't incredibly big. He isn't a very excessive person, unlike other immortals. His abode here is enough to keep him content.

I find his bathroom, which is familiar to me. His office – another place I have wandered too. And then I find his bedroom, right at the end. He doesn't sleep; however, he has a magnificent bed right in the middle, adorned in a crimson cover. It's immaculately made, perhaps by magic.

The rest of his room is fairly plain, as if he doesn't spend much time in here. There are two mahogany bedside tables on each side of the bed, and two paintings above. Both are portraits. One is of a very beautiful woman, with long blonde hair that reaches her hips. Her eyes are like molten silver. The other portrait is of a man. He is ruggedly handsome, staring at me with the warmest brown eyes I have ever seen.

I find myself in front of one of his side tables.

It feels like such a sin opening the draw to reveal what is inside. A small box, a picture and a very aged looking stuffed animal.

I pick up the teddy bear. It's so old, it feels fragile in my fingers. One wrong move and it might disintegrate in my hands. It stares at me with beady eyes, it's stitching fraying around the mouth and ears. It smells so strongly like Fate, it's overwhelming.

Putting it down, I pick up the box. Inside is a lavish silver ring adorned with a multitude of gems. Diamond, emerald and amethyst.

Why does he have this?

Quickly, I close it, too scared to touch it. That ring is surely worth a lot – perhaps more than my life. Whoever that is for is incredibly lucky. Or maybe it belonged to someone Fate once knew. Or once was in love with. Shaking that thought out of my head, I put it back, picking up the photo that had been left laying down.

It's of me. And Zaid. We stand together, talking or something. It looks like I'm lecturing Zaid, which was once a common occurrence. How long ago was this taken, and by who exactly? And why does Fate have this?

I put it back and close the draw. That made me uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, I continue my explore. Rounding his bed, I open the other draw. There is only one thing in there. A small book. I immediately know it's a diary. Part of me wants to grab it and read every word he wrote down, while the other part of me is wary. How can I trust that I won't read something about him that won't ruin everything for me?