When Darkness Falls

Chapter 3

My fingers twined into my hair, letting the strands dance together in a delicate pattern of criss-crossing sections. Once I got to the ends, I used a thin piece of green ribbon to tie it off; a fabric that wasn't common in this part of the island.

For years, I had kept it hidden away in a crack between the rocks which met at a corner of the windowsill above my bed, covered in creased paper to save it from the dust. As someone who didn't have many of her own belongings, I tended to look after the few things that I did have for myself. And that piece of ribbon was one of them.

I let my arms fall to my sides, brushing against the material which clung to me from my chest downwards, before pooling around my feet. Although it was much more high-class than I was used to, the threads were still dull and itchy against my skin.

Cheap, I thought to myself, grimacing slightly.

It hadn't even been a full day, before I heard the loud tapping against the outside of the door, and opened it to find a short, squat man with an expensive looking envelope clasped between his chubby fingers. He let out a nervous laugh as my eyes fixed on his, and he pressed it into my extended palms, scurrying off down one of the back alleys. 

I didn't have to look at the bright red, wax seal in order to know that it was from the Palace.

It was there - wrapped up like some sort of grotesque parcel - just like Damian had promised. An invitation, by his Majesty himself, for dinner after lights out the next evening.

Craning my neck to peer into the cracked mirror next to the door, I scowled, studying my appearance. My face was well defined, and each of my features contrasted another one in a way that could almost be considered pretty if it wasn't for the definite lack beauty related products to make things look less dull.

I had tried my best with the slim braid which started at the crown of my head and was pulled forwards till it came to a thin end by my chest, and had borrowed the dress from a girl a few doors down; but even after the effort, I still felt so painfully... plain.

I puffed out my cheeks, and flattened down a bump in the material against my hip, although though it probably didn't even exist. The feel of fabric pinching my skin was unusual, and made me feel flushed.

It would have to do.

As if right on queue, there was a tap on the wooden panelling, before it slid open slightly and a tall male squeezed his way into the room. Tate's usually pale skin had a slight redness to it, like someone had pinched his cheeks with their forefinger and thumb exceptionally hard, and his dirty blonde hair stuck out in all directions.

He looked at me for a few seconds, a facial expression crossing his face that I had never seen him use before, as he let out a low whistle. His head shook slightly, and one corner of his mouth curved upwards.

"Talia, you look..." He blinked, eyes drifting over my body. I felt strange, naked almost. "Well, great would be an understatement."

I look like a sausage.

"Thanks," I muttered sheepishly, looking down at his shoes. I blinked. "You're wearing actual shoes?" Tate rolled his eyes, his feet moving in some sort of unorganized dance, though I assumed this to be more out of nervousness than anything.

On closer inspection, I noticed that he wasn't just going out of his way to wear shoes, but he was also wearing a pair of black, and clearly ironed trousers, and also a neat looking blouse. The shirt was slightly large, but even loose fitting clothing didn't hide his wide shoulders and clearly muscle enhanced forearms.

It wasn't a wonder really that many girls in the town took a fancy to the boy.

"Don't laugh at me," Although Tate was trying to keep a straight face, his eyes smiled into mine, glinting slightly from the candle light in the room. I mimed zipping my lips closed, but the hint of a grin betrayed me. "I had to borrow Ted's old Sunday shirts; I'm pretty sure it still smells of old sweat."