Fate In Ink

chapter 7

"What?"

My mouth hung open at her words. I'll die? Die how?

The woman sighed. Her hand loosened on my wrist and fell to the counter table with a soft thud. "I know you are worried about the eldest children of Caraig. But you cannot go out there."

"Why not?" I asked.

"First, those two are well - acquainted in this area. They would know how to get help. Second, those rebels specifically target the mestizos and those with pure Spanish heritage." The woman tilted her head to the side and heaved a heavy breath. "And my dear, you look awfully like a mestiza."

I shook my head. "I'm not. I'm perfectly an Indio."

I did not actually mean that; I have no idea what I am. I could be descended from chickens for all I know.

"Maybe not quite. You look more of a mixed-race. But nevertheless, you must not go out. The rebels do not spare a bit of mercy towards the Spanish. If they see you, I will not be able to guarantee your safety," she said.

I tried to hide my disappointment. It's not everyday I get to see rebels in action. I am so tempted to run through that door and observe them, even from a distance.

Then the door creaked open and a soft breeze came flooding in the room. I shivered at how the wind licked at the sweat on my nape. I turned around and saw a young man gazing at the shelves. He was smartly dressed; his hair swept back and his clothes looked perfectly bleached.

"¡Buenos días!" the woman said. Her accent flowed smoothly over her tongue, and she was quick to walk over at the man's side.

The man gave her a small smile. "Good morning, Señora," he said. "I've come for my reservation. Has it arrived?"

The woman looked as if she was floating. She beamed at the man and clapped her hands together as she disappeared behind the shelves.

The man did not appear to notice me and I felt awkward standing there while watching them.

Now this is unfair. How come he gets to be outside when I'm not allowed to? He's obviously a foreigner! White skin, light eys. His sharp features were a complete opposite to the locals.

The man's gaze fell upon me and I quickly averted my eyes. Blood rushed to my ears and warmth spread through my face. I was definitely not staring.

"I feel honored to have been graced by your presence, Señorita," he said.

He walked towards me, his shoe clopping gently against the wooden flooring. His smile was small and scarily enough, his eyes were.... different. He was smiling but his eyes carried no emotion.

Was he happy? Polite? Lowkey annoyed?

He bent and placed his bowler hat over his chest. He reached for my hand, and gently kissed my knuckles. I jerked it away from him. It was too weird.

"Was that brash of me?" he said. His brows crossed together in a frown.

"Um, no, not really," I said, unsure of what to say. "I was just shocked."

The woman then interrupted our brief exchange with a cough.

That was rude, yeah, but I am also kind of relieved. I have no idea what to do in that situation. He was a complete stranger but a part of me feels like I've met him before. It's some cliché teen fiction trope, but I can't seem to shake it off just yet.

But maybe it's all in my mind. Maybe I was hoping we were fated. He was handsome like heck.

"Here is your merchandise, Señor," she said.