Darkness and Beauty (The Fated Series, #1)

Chapter 14 - Darius - Staring Contest

Do you ever get that feeling where you know that something's different - that it's changing and you don't know whether it's good or bad? Like when you're walking down an alley and then a cold wind blows through carrying a strange scent, and you don't know if it's just the sewage, or if someone's planning on jumping you?
Well, that's how the past few days have felt. Though there's probably nowhere safer than in my bed mid-morning with two guards outside my door and Clarice not far away, I can't help but feel...strange. Like I woke up, ended up in another alternative universe, and I'm living a small possibility of my future.
Five days ago, if a fortune teller came to the castle and told me that I'd be here, in danger with no other than the Ebony Nightingale to protect me, I would've called them an imposter and sent them off.
I don't know what this feeling that bubbles in my chest as if I've drunk crimson cider means. All I do know is, is that it's frightening to not know what my day holds for once in my life.
Normally, I would go on with my day, allowing myself to be pulled and tugged like a puppet, but not knowing what I am to content myself with today gives me unsettling anxiety.
As I toss off my sheets and head into the bathroom to wash my face, I can't help but think of the interesting past few days. I mean who would've thought the Ebony Nightingale would allow herself to laugh with a boy - let alone the Crown Prince - let alone a man she threatened to kill five days ago. She's been very adamant about proving that she dislikes the idea of being at my side to protect me. I didn't tell anyone that she did, but it was weird. Rather than feel scared for my life when I went to sleep that night, I felt...excited.
She didn't talk to me all of the second day, then only when she had to on the third, and yesterday she seemed to wake up like a whole new person. Her dislike was still there, but she was telling jokes. Like...really funny jokes. It threw all of us off. One second she was making a "that's what she said joke," but then the next she'd turn around and look like she did when she threatened me. Like The Ebony Nightingale.
I know I should fear her - the Ebony - but aside from that initial terror when she trapped me in the chair without having to hold a blade to my throat or tie me down, I don't feel afraid of her anymore. I don't know how I feel about it anymore, and I think pushing her buttons and trying to prove her wrong about the whole lone wolf mojo she's got going on, is just about the most reckless thing I've ever done.
Now, or at least for a while yesterday, she showed me that my professor - dull as she may be - is wiser than I thought.
Evil is never in which one is, but rather in which one does.
Aracely's words followed me since our first lesson that day. I can't remember my argument then, but I know that I didn't react kindly for whatever idiotic reason I had. Though Clarice is a trained assassin, skilled in the many arts of cruelty, she is still a girl and still someone with a heart. She may never admit that to me or anyone besides her brother, but it's still nice to know she at least has one.
Or at least I think she does.
I haven't really had the chance to check if she has a pulse.
After we returned from the willow incident with Charles, I found Garrison and the rest of them waiting in my room. They weren't happy, to say the least. .
"I told you not to go anywhere until we returned."
"You were taking too long, and besides, I took Clarice with me.""Is that supposed to make us feel better?"
"It will once you hear what she did to Charles-"
"I don't care what she's done to that little shit. I don't trust her."
"Well how in Saints sake are you ever going to trust her if you don't give her a damn chance to earn it?"
That argument went on for about an hour before she walked in. I could tell that she heard the entire thing based on the way she kept glaring at Garrison. For two days they lunged for each other's throats like two stray dogs. They bickered and stabbed each other with sharp glares every five minutes. It was getting annoying and I was fed up with having them both at my shoulder everywhere I went, so I made everyone else suffer through it with me. They lasted about two hours before all twelve of us lashed out on them. Since then, they've held their held their tongues and kept the glaring to a minimum. Sadly, it didn't last half of yesterday, and Clarice started picking on him through other means. She is not making this whole trust thing easy.
Despite their quarrels, she still trains us, keeping us on our toes and sore by dusk. So far she's taught us how to make limbs go numb, drilled us on how to keep our necks from getting sliced when a knife's placed against it, and is now showing us how to keep up with the speed of her movements.
More men come in every day when they're not on duty, but most watch rather than participate. It's okay for us to train whenever and however we wish, but everyone else is still under the watchful eyes of Aillard, and he won't take kindly to his guards using their free time to train more rather than rest up for their shifts. Even if it will help them in the end.
Aside from the bruises I now have, there is an upside to all of this. Clarice and her brother managed to convince my mother that the extra training would be better suited to my afternoons than the time to have more lessons with Aracely. I was in a lesson with my professor at the time, so I sadly didn't get to hear the arguments they used on her and memorize them for future reference. Either way, my lessons have been put off, and I don't go back until the end of the cycle.
Convincing as they were, the assassins only got six days from her. She agreed to let me train during my tutoring hours, but only for six days before I am to figure out a new schedule.
Clarice has been a rather...interesting...joy to have around. Everyone but Garrison has begun to slowly accept her into our group. Ethan and Alister have become the closest to her, making jokes on top of hers and acting like they've known each other for years. They've always been the more curious and friendly of us all, and the training seems to make being around her less threatening. I'm somewhere in between them and the awkwardness of the rest of the group. They're all just being cautious of trusting her, letting me go anywhere with her so long as - at least - two of them are nearby. It's like having another ten mothers all trying to hold your hand at the same time.
Meanwhile, Clarice lets me cross alone and watches from the corner.
They're constantly peeping over my shoulder or eyeing her like she's about to chuck a blade at my heart. They've loosened her leash – not that they really had her under their control – but they still grip the end tight.
She notices, of course, but she doesn't do much to make them move in between us. She's smart. She knows that they don't trust her and that she needs them to. That doesn't stop her from letting her thoughts fly freely on their faults, but she does limit herself to how she treats them physically. She still pulls a few punches when we spar and her hits are nowhere near as hard as they were that first day.
When we land blows of our own she doesn't necessarily lash out – though her hands twitch to do so constantly – but instead she tells us that we need to hit harder and with better accuracy and purpose. I asked her about it once – why she holds back but tells us to go harder – and she said it was because we need to get the moves down first before we try and take her on entirely. "If you can't execute the maneuver, then you won't stand a chance when I go all in. Practice makes perfect."
Training and brutality aside, I've had more fun with her than I've had in a while. Don't get me wrong, my best friends are a blast to have, but they're required to act a certain way outside of the tower. With Clarice, she has no filter, nor does she need to act pleasant like the rest of us. It's like that first day with Charles. She can say what she wants without consequence.
Aside from her father, I highly doubt that she'd really listen to anyone if they told her to sew her lips shut. My father wouldn't even try to tell her to stop. I mean, what could he possibly do to the most feared assassin in Ker that she won't be prepared for? It's pointless. It's the reason why I and the others tolerate her company. She can say what we're all thinking to anyone and everyone, and we don't have to say a word for her to do so. I'm both envious and entertained whenever she does so.
From the other room I hear as the door opens and closes, but no footsteps sound. Either someone is waiting for me in the front room, or -
"How long is it going to take you to comb your hair and tell yourself that you're the most beautiful male in the land? Cause I don't have all day."
-Clarice has decided to pay a visit.
It's not her sly footing that has me surprised, but the fact that she just waltzed not only into my bedroom, but my bathroom, where I could be doing Gods know what. I'm not sure whether to be flattered that she's okay with seeing me half naked, or violated that she feels she has the right to see such things.
I shift on my feet, eyeing her as she stands with crossed arms at the doorway. Her eyes don't drift from my own, nor do they seem to hold any struggle to stay there. I'm a little offended, but I should've expected that this would happen considering how little she cares for personal space.
"Technically speaking, we do have all day," I point out. I splash water on my face, scrubbing a little to get the dried eye boogers out of my eyes.
"Well in that case I'm going to go have myself some of those tarts in the other room. They smell delicious." Leave it to Clarice to do what she wants, when she wants.
"Didn't you get some of your own in your chambers?" I call after her.
"Nope!" she yells back. By the sound of her voice, I can already tell she has one in her mouth.
Brat.
I wipe my dripping face with a towel and then head into the front room, ignoring the purposely placed shirt on my satin chair. If she's planning on barging in on me every morning, there's no use in hiding myself now. Plus, I'm sure she's seen plenty of male bodies to not care for mine. Probably cut into one too.
A shiver runs up my spine at the thought.
It's only been a few seconds since she walked in and half the tarts are already gone. Thomas put six of them on the plate. "By the Gods, you could at least try and breath in between your bites."
"Hey, you're the one who slept in, and they were getting cold. Besides, it's not like we have a King's cook at our disposal in the House of Jade."
"Well at least the cook will be glad to know you like his tarts."
"'Like' doesn't do justice," she mumbles, stuffing the rest of her fourth tart in her mouth.
I snatch the plate from the table but she's quicker than I anticipated and manages to snag one last tart, leaving me only two to go with breakfast. "You ravenous, large pig. You only left me two for my morning meal."
"You can have it back if you want. I was trained to empty my stomach contents on cue." Her raised eyebrows tell me she's not joking as I hoped she was. I fear the one who trained her just as much as I fear her now.
I curl my nose. "I'd prefer to see that when I'm not hungry."
"Shame, it would've made more room for more tarts." She taps her stomach in emphasis.
"You could always just ask Katarina to bring you more. As your servant it's her job to do whatever it is you ask."
Whatever I said must've triggered something in Clarice because one second she's staring at the tart like she's fated to it, and the next her eyes lock onto mine, a silent anger withering inside them. Maybe if I give her the last two tarts she won't throw a dagger at my head.
"People are meant for more than what they are born into. Servants aren't just meant to serve and smile, they're meant to serve a greater purpose."
"Like what?"
I really am curious. I mean Katarina and Thomas were both low-born and instantly put to work in the castle as soon as they were old enough. What grander purpose could they be meant for?
"Depends on who they answer to and what they're passionate about. The same goes for everyone else." Though her words are soft her voice is as sharp as knives. It's the voice of the Nightingale, not Clarice, and that scares me just as much as it intrigues me.
"Apologies if I poked at a soft spot-"
"I don't have soft spots." She turns back to her tart, flipping it in her hand to inspect it.
I watch her curiously, wondering if she no longer has an appetite because of the subject change. "Your words say otherwise."
"My words are just that. Words. They mean nothing."
"Technically speaking, every word has a meaning, and yours seem rather meaningful." Her eyes slowly raise to mine as I take a seat on the couch across from her. I know I'm standing close to the edge with her, but I'd rather not die, and humor seems to be the thing that softens her.
Sometimes.
I hold her gaze, letting her imagine how and where she'd kill me and with what weapons. Of course, I'm entirely terrified of the strength of her stare, but I'm too big headed to back down.
Charles and I used to always do staring contests when we were younger. I won most of the time, but every time he beat me he seemed to cheat on way or another. Blowing hard in my face, feigning to hit me, flashing a light in my face. I hated how he cheated and then bragged about winning after.
Staring into Clarice's eyes, however, is entirely different. It's not just looking at one another's eyes to see if they lower and give out, but rather there's a different sort of challenge that lies in this. It's as if the balance of the world will be determined of who blinks first and who outlasts the other. I can feel my eyes beginning to burn since I haven't done this in quite some time. Clarice, however, looks to be doing perfectly fine. I know I'm not going to win, but I'd rather not surrender sooner than I can.
"You're reddening, Prince. Best quit now."
Before I can answer, the door opens and the sound of boots stopping to a sudden halt is the only sign that it's one of the guards. I should probably look and see who it is, but I'm not willing to give up yet. I can see Clarice realize this as her eyes crinkle at the ends, the only sign of a smile.
There's a pointed cough from whoever is standing at the door, but I don't break my gaze as I speak. "Go on, we're only playing a game. I can still listen and speak."
"The Queen requests your presence." The soft, quiet voice tells me it's Henry who's walked in. He's not really soft and quiet, but I think the current situation he walked into threw him off.
I wave a careless hand in his general direction. "I'll be a moment. Wait outside."
"As you wish...Your Highness" With that Henry leaves the room closing the door behind him and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I hate it when my friends use my titles.