Thank you, @inseasofgreen, for the tag! I wanna tell you guys a story of three stars born during a celestial event that will later define their destiny and put their potent cosmic powers to the test! This is:
Prophecy of the Triad: A Tenebraethian Tale of the Night of the Three Stars
The perpetual twilight of Tenebraethia deepened as Dr. Lysandra Vex-Noxthorne clutched her swollen belly, her breath catching in her throat. The aurora veils beyond her window pulsed with an intensity she had never seen before, casting eerie, shifting shadows across the birthing chamber of the Noxthorne estate.
"Caelum," she whispered, reaching for her husband's hand. Professor Caelum Noxthorne, his blue and green eyes wide with a mixture of anticipation and fear, grasped her fingers tightly.
"I'm here, my love," he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. "The midwives are on their way, andā"
His words were cut short by a sudden, blinding flash from the sky. The couple turned to the window, their personal moment eclipsed by a cosmic spectacle. A comet, its tail a cascade of impossible colors, streaked across Tenebraethia's star-strewn canvas.
Lysandra gasped, not from pain but from the sudden influx of quantum data flooding her mind.
"Caelum, the readings... it's unlike anything we've ever seen. The energy signatures, the temporal fluctuationsā"
Caelum squeezed her hand, his own empathic abilities overwhelmed by a wave of emotions not his ownāloneliness, purpose, and a depth of knowledge that made his head spin.
"I feel it too, Lysandra. It's as if the comet itself is alive, sentient..."
Their scientific observations were interrupted by Lysandra's cry as another contraction seized her. The midwives burst into the room, their faces a mix of professional calm and awe at the celestial display outside.
As the comet began to break apart in the upper atmosphere, scattering shimmering fragments across Tenebraethia, Lysandra began to push. The air in the birthing chamber grew thick with mist, pulsing with energy that seemed to synchronize with her efforts.
Caelum watched in amazement as the mist coalesced into three distinct swirling patterns around Lysandra's bed.
"Three," he whispered, the revelation hitting him hard.
"Lysandra, we're having triplets!"
The first child slipped into the world as a fragment of the comet struck the crystal forests in the distance, sending a shockwave of light and energy rippling across the landscape. The baby girl's cries harmonized with the resonating crystals, and for a moment, every dreamer on Tenebraethia shared a vision of swirling nebulae and distant stars.
"Eirlys," Lysandra breathed, cradling the newborn.
"Her name is Eirlys."
The second child arrived as another comet fragment pierced the eternal shadows of Voidheart in the Umbra Archipelago. When the baby's eyes opened, they seemed to contain the depth of ages, reflecting the newly illuminated ancient ruins. They named her Erinia, the keeper of memories yet to be made.
As Lysandra prepared to deliver the third child, the largest fragment of the cometāits coreāplummeted towards the Whispering Isles. The impact sent a pulse of chrono-energy surging across Tenebraethia. In that moment, the final triplet entered the world, her first breath drawing in the altered mists now infused with alien essence.
"Evyr," Caelum said softly, taking the third child in his arms. As he held her, he felt a sudden, overwhelming connection to every living thing on Tenebraethia, sensing the subtle changes wrought by the comet's passage.
The three newborns, placed side by side, seemed to glow with an inner light that mirrored the cosmic display outside. The midwives stepped back, their expressions a mixture of joy and trepidation. They had assisted in many births, but never one so intertwined with world-shaking events.
As the cosmic storm subsided, leaving a changed Tenebraethia in its wake, Lysandra and Caelum shared a look of understanding. Their daughters, born on this impossible night, were destined for something extraordinary.
In the distance, at the impact site of the comet's core, a figure emerged from a crater of crystallized time. Moiranon, the cosmic exile, took their first steps onto Tenebraethian soil. As if sensing the arrival, the triplets stirred in unison, their tiny hands reaching out to each other.
The Night of Three Stars, as it would come to be known, marked the beginning of a new era for Tenebraethia. In the years to come, as the triplets grew and Moiranon's influence spread, the events of that night would be remembered as both a miracle and a harbingerāthe night when the fate of not just a world but perhaps the entire cosmos began to shift.
Tell me what you think of the introduction to my new world! I'm still working on my world of sound magic, but I'd like to know if I should put these two worlds within the same galaxy. Build my own planetary system? Idk honestly, I'm just brainstorming that idea; if anyone has any feedback, don't hesitate to reply or ask! :)
I am tagging in: @the-golden-comet, @illarian-rambling, @slenders1ckn3ss, @queerfox-tales, @dyrewrites, and @oc-atelier! And anyone who wants to share their writing š„°
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Summary: Eris Vanserra finds himself the Duke of the Vanserra estate when his father unexpectedly passes away, forcing him to reconcile the past he left behind in the house he never hoped to see again.
Note: This is not a direct spin-off. I'm just plagiarizing myself at this point.
Read on AO3
Arinaās entire life had always revolved around the Vanserra family. From her first awareness, everything and everyone moved around the four people who made up the ancient Dukedom. Duke Beron Vanserra brought his wife, the elegant Lady Vanserra, and his two sonsāEris, the eldest, and Lucien, the youngest, every summer and departed at the beginning of Autumn. To Arina, it had always been odd that so much centered around people who, to her, only existed between the months of June and September.Ā
When they werenāt at the Forest Estate, they were in the city of Velaris. Arina had never been and thought she never would. Her mother, the housekeeper of the estate, oversaw the female staff and managed the Vanserraās home down to the cent, ensuring nothing was ever out of place or fell to ruin. It was an exhausting job, to Arinaās mind anyway.
I work so hard so you will not have to, her mother would remind Arina, collapsing into the little room they shared. They were lucky to have the space at all given the tight quarters most of the serving staff lived in. At least this room did not share a bathroom with anyone else.
Her mothers status gave Arina status. Lady Vanserra paid for Arinaās education, accidentally introducing her to the Archeron sisters. Their family estate buttressed against the Vanserras and, unlike the Duke and his sons, lived there year round for the most part. Lady Vanserra had paid Arinaās tuition so she could study alongside the highborn Archeronās.Ā
Unlike Lucien and Eris, who rarely interacted with the staff, the Archeron girls did not seem to mind so much that Arina lacked their soft mannerisms and lilting speech. Elain, in particular, took an immediate liking to Arina, perhaps because Arina encouraged Elain to get her fine skirts muddy on occasion. When they were hunched over books, the four took to the woods from dusk until dawn, screaming and laughing, lost in games of imagination in the enchanted woodland.Ā
And in the summer, Arina was always called back, shoved in a too-tight, itchy dress, and forced to greet the Vanserraās on the front drive. She liked Lady Vanserra best, who was like another mother. Amera, sheād once whispered to Arina with a wink. She was younger than her husband by at least ten years and so beautiful Arina understood why the Duke had wanted her so badly. Too much, her mother had once murmured though Arina didnāt understand what that meant at all. She was everything Arinaās mother was trying to turn Arina into. Each year, Arina studied her when she stepped from the carriage, placing a delicate, fair hand into her husbands. She wore her auburn hair off her face, twisted and combed without a stray hair out of place. Russet eyes always swept over them and when she smiled, Arina sometimes pretended it was because she was happy to Arina, and Arina only.
Beron Vanserra was a humorless man in comparison to his beautiful wife. Handsome enough, with muddy brown hair and eyes, Arina wondered what the lady liked about him. He didnāt seem to know they existed at all and spoke only to the steward.Ā She supposed he must be kind, and he was handsome enoughāmore handsome than the men in the village, at any rate. He always placed a gloved hand on his wifes back and led her in, his sons trailing just behind.
Lucien would grin when he saw her, his hair a match for his mothers though it was never tidy. His skin was perpetually tanned, even after a winter in the city where Arina was sure he saw very little sun. He grew only darker in the summer when he was left to run wild and the Duke paid very little attention to him. It was for the bestāLucien would join in with the Archeronās, causing all sorts of mischief with the youngest, Feyre.
Eris was the oldest and his fathers man as far as Arina could tell. Though he shared his mothers coloring, her auburn hair, her russet eyes, Eris held himself like his father even as a boy. He looked down his nose at them if he acknowledged the help at all. He didnāt play games, not even when Lucien cajoled. He holed himself up in the library, her favorite room, and focused on his studies and his fathers other lessons.Ā
Eris was mean. Two years older than her, Eris already considered himself lord and never let any of them forget it. Tramping home one day, happy and coated in dirt, Lucien and Arina had the misfortune of running into Eris on the grounds just outside the garden.Ā
āYouāre filthy,ā he sneered, looking her up and down. āMother says youāre going to be a great lady but no lady Iāve ever seen takes such joy in mud.ā
āWhat would you know about ladies?ā Arina had snapped. Erisās outrage was not imagined.Ā
āYou canāt speak to me like that,ā heād told her. āApologize.ā
And Arina, foolish and young, had shoved him so hard heād fallen in the dirt. Eris had his revenge, she supposed, when he told his father. Arina had been marched into the drawing room, trembling like a leaf before the Duke and his wife while Eris smirked from the sofa.
āTell him youāre sorry,ā her mother had whispered, hands on her shoulders.
āSorry,ā Arina muttered petulantly. Eris merely turned up his nose but it was Beron who was determined it would never happen again.
āPut your hands on the table,ā heād ordered and Arina had no choice but to comply. Eris had turned, then, eyes wide when he realized his father meant to strike her. Beron Vanserra took his cane, rapping hard over her knuckles, twice for each side. Arina hadnāt dared to look at Eris, to see if he was still satisfied and instead swallowed her urge to cry.Ā
When she saw him next, Eris said nothing at all, nose still pointed in the air and when he walked passed her, he shoved his shoulder hard against her body, shoving something into her bruised, still swollen hands. Arina hadnāt dared say a word, instead darting for the woods, for a tree she liked to hide in. Sheād unwrapped the little napkin, revealing the prettiest cake sheād ever seen in her entire life.
It was an apology of sorts.
It took another year for Arina to learn she was not the only one who suffered Beronās particular form of punishment. She woke in the night to a woman screaming. Bolting upright, Arina crept from her bedroom, certain someone must be dying. She made it up the stairs, fumbling in the dark, before a hand gripped her wrist and yanked her backwards.
āDonāt,ā Eris whispered, his entire body shaking. āGo back to bed.ā
āButāā
āGo back to bed,ā he ordered, only eleven years old and somehow the most authoritative voice sheād ever heard in her entire life. Arina did as he said, though she could not sleep. When she woke, Lady Vanserra greeted her at breakfast with a bright smile and swollen eyes.Ā
āAllergies,ā she explained to Arinaās mother, who brought ice without another word. Across the table, neither Eris nor Lucien dared to look at their mother and for the first time in her life, Arina felt badly for the Vanserras. What was it like to live with so much fear?
Arina was always a little too relieved when the first of September arrived and Beron packed his family back into their golden carriage. She was a little sorry to see Lucien go but grateful to have the refuge of the library returned to her. The moment the carriage vanished, the mood in the house lifted as if everyone collectively took a breath. Every year, without fail, until that last one, the year Arina turned thirteen.
The last year Eris Vanserra lived with his family.Ā
Theyād arrived a day earlier than planned. Arina had been holed up in the library, hair unwound in only a braid despite her promise that she would prove to Lady Vanserra the lessons were paying off and Arina could, in fact, act the part of lady. It wasnāt that she couldnātāit was that the corsets were miserable and the hair pins made Arinaās headache. How Elain stood it, Arina would never know. When she was on her own, no one cared if she wore simple, unstructured dresses or if her hair fell about her shoulders. Apparently men lost their ability to be rational at the sight of a ladyās natural body or her undone hair. Arina thought it was pretty excuses for men to act abominably, though she didnāt dare voice those opinions out loud to anyone but Elain.
The problem was Arinaās face, which had become lovely to look upon, at least if the men in the village were any indication. It made her mother nervousāArina was the product of pretty promises made by one of those villagers, though who her mother had never said. Though her mother had never outright said it, Arina knew her mother wanted to see her make a better match to a middle-class sort of man. A merchant, perhaps, or banker or judge. Someone who could take care of her, could offer her a nicer life.Ā
At the house, Arina was safe. The serving men didnāt dare look twice, unwilling to risk the wrath of her mother and the Vanserraās were never around to notice. It gave Arina leave to lounge about, utterly spoiled when she felt like it.
She hadnāt expected a frustrated fifteen year old Eris Vanserra to stroll in a day early, halting when he saw her draped in a large chair, her legs dangling over the arm, in a plain blue dress better suited for a child. Eris, as always, was still in his jacket and breeches. He paused, gloved hands fisting at his sides.
Arina scrambled upwards, dropping her book to the cushion behind her. āLord,ā she murmured, sinking into a bow as was proper. He only stared, blinking twice before waving a dismissive hand.Ā
āDonāt get up on my account.ā
She reached for the book behind her, offering him a thin lipped smile. āI didnāt realize youād be home today.ā
āMy apologies for the intrusion,ā he replied, not sounding very sorry at all. Arina didnāt stick around to see why he was in such a mood. There were rumors Eris was supposed to go to university that year, halted because his father had changed his mind. Whether that was true or not, Arina felt a prick of sadness for Eris. Beronās control was absolute and unrelenting. He could wreck his sonās future should he choose.Ā
Arina and Lucien ran wild, just as they always did, playing the part of Lord and Lady only when it was required of them. Arina pretended she didnāt notice the way Lucien watched Elain, as if heād only just realized she existed, and Arina knew Lucien pretended he did not see how she studied Eris when she thought no one else was watching. Heād changed since sheād last seen himābecome taller, more muscular, handsome, even. The features that had once seemed so sharp and ugly to her had shifted, or perhaps heād merely grown into them. Eris seemed chiseled, suddenly, beautiful in a way a man should not.
And he wasnāt a man, she reminded herself. He was still a boy but all the pieces were there and for the first time, Arina thought a boy was pleasing to look at. He was no longer his fathers man, at least, not entirely. Eris was prone to outbursts, snapping when Beron demanded too much and putting himself between his mother and his brother.Ā
Arina felt sick the first time she saw the bruise upon his cheek. Eris didnāt acknowledge it though Arina could look at nothing else but the purple mark against his high cheekbones, marring an otherwise lovely face. It was not the first.
It would not be the last.Ā
It was raining that day, the moody violence foreshadowing what was to come. Arina had been in the library, slowly reclaiming it from Eris who was packing to leave. Heād been given leave for university and things had settled in the house. He would go in the fall and next summer she knew when Lucien returned, his elder brother would not. She was happy for Eris, she supposed, and confused for herself. She didnāt want to like him, after all. Eris Vanserra was off-limits to people like her.Ā
She heard the shouting and ignored it, making herself small in the chair.
āBeron, please donātāāāHe needs to learn to take his punishments like a man.ā
Those words drew Arina from the library, creeping through the house despite the hour of day, until sheād made it to the stables where she knew Lucien would be watching. He was sheet white, mouth grim, as he watched his brother and father march towards the woods.
āIs that aā¦ā she trailed off, noting the horse whip slung over Beronās shoulder.
āYes,ā Lucien agreed. āFather is angry Eris got his way. I think he means to show Eris who is still lord.ā
They all heard the first crack of the whip. Arina counted thirty in total, each one more horrible than the last. Lucien stood stock still while she counted softly between them, eyes fluttering shut each time they heard the air ripple. Eris made no noise at all, or none that carried, at any rate. And when Beron returned, he looked at his youngest son, sweat dripping from his nose.Ā
āYou are not to help him,ā Beron ordered, panting as he said it. āEris will return on his own.ā
Lucien nodded tightly, satisfying his father. Arina was never part of that agreementāBeron did not acknowledge she stood there at all.
āAre you really going to leave him?ā sheād asked as night approached with no sign of Eris at all.
āI have to,ā Lucien had replied with a note of regret. Arina couldnāt accept that. Eris would have gone for Lucien. Who would come for him?
She waited until all the lights in the estate winked out before she took off running, ignoring the way the rain pelted against her skin, unusually cold for the end of August. There was no moon, no starlight to guide her way and foolishly, Arina had not thought to light a torch. She plunged into the woods with little more than her memory to guide her.
She practically tripped over his body. āEris,ā she whispered, reaching for him in the dark. She hadnāt meant to touch his wounds, her hands pressed against hot, sticky flesh. He groaned, jerking involuntarily at her touch. He turned his head, letting her press her palm to his forehead.
āMama?ā he whispered, his voice so broken, so sad.Ā
āNo,ā she answered, tugging at his bare arm. āOnly me. Come on. Will you stand?ā
āLeave me,ā he moaned, turning his head away from her. Arina tugged again, more insistent this time.
āYouāll die out here,ā she explained, managing to get him on his feet. She slung his arm over her shoulders, trying so hard to brace the weight of him without toppling over.Ā
āIf he finds out you helpedā¦ā Eris did not finish his sentence and Arina didnāt answer. If Beron found out sheād disobeyed, she supposed he could whip her, too. It was better than doing nothing at all.
It was a long, miserable walk back to the house. She had to set him down multiple times to catch her breath, laying him face down in the grass as carefully as she could. Eris did not complain, perhaps grateful for the help at all.
āTo your room,ā sheād tried once they reached the stables. Eris had only shook his head.
āNo,ā he gasped, leaning against an empty horse stall. āToo many steps. Justā¦youāve done enough. Go to bed.ā
He managed to unlatch the wooden door, tumbling inside without preamble, like he was little more than trash. It felt so wrong to see him that way. Arina wasnāt leaving him. She went into the house, exhausted and wet from sweat and the rain. She changed her clothes and gathered suppliesācloth for his wounds and clean water, ointment to help with the pain and the swelling and something for him to wear, too. She dug out blankets and pillows no one would miss and dragged it all down to that stall where Eris lay, face down in the straw. He was passed out when she returned which made cleaning the criss-crossed slashes over his back all the easier. Arina refilled her bowl of water a total of four times before she finally slathered on the paste and carefully dressed them as best she could. He was heavier than her, impossible to truly move around. Once sheād managed that, Arina slid a pillow beneath his head and tucked a blanket over his body. She meant to leave him like that, to return at dawn and take it all back just in case Beron came looking.
Eris reached out for her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling against him. It was awkward and clumsy, a scared boy looking for comfort.
āMama?ā he asked again, his voice smaller this time. Arina brushed a piece of auburn hair off his sweaty forehead.
āNo,ā she whispered. āIām sorry. I can get herāā
āDonāt,ā he replied, opening one eye as if it pained him. āThank you.ā
Eris pressed his forehead against her own, lapsing back into sleep. Arina let him hold her, too tired to actually sleep. She was afraid if she did sheād wake up tucked against a corpse. He was so hot and somehow clammy and shivering. She kept pressing her hand against his cheek, if only to reassure herself.
As dawn broke, Eris began to rouse himself. āLay back down,ā Arina insisted as his shaking arms tried to raise him to his feet. āIāll hide you here.ā
Eris had never looked so young to her. Had she once thought he was a man? The eyes that peered back at her were those of a boy, terrified and alone, not daring to believe anyone would help him at all. Arina wished she could hug him. āIāll take care of you,ā she added. Eris put his head on her shoulder, his tears dripping down his nose and soaking her ruined dress. She didnāt dare move despite the ache of her body as carefully as she could, brought an arm around his back, fingers sliding reassuringly through his hair. It was what her mother had done for her when she was scared, nails gliding over the scalp as she hummed a nonsense song.
The house came to live with the first breath of dawn, and so too, did Eris. Sucking in a breath, he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of her dress. āLook at me,ā he whispered, his face drawn, eyes flickering with an ember of defiance. Shuddering, and fingers trembling, Eris held her face in his hands. She thought he might kiss her and Arina found she wanted him to. She didnāt dare move, swallowing hard at the half naked boy covered in his own blood, his skin still too warm to the touch. āSwear to me something.ā
āAnything,ā she agreed foolishly.
āLeave this place,ā he whispered, his eyes searching her face as though heād know if she wasnāt honest with him. āThe first chance you get, turn your back and do not come back.ā
Arina nodded, her disappointment strange and heavy. āAnd you?ā
Erisās face was hard. āThis is my last summer here. Make it yours, too. Swear.ā
āI swear.ā
Eris lifted himself to his feet after that, staggering forward without her assistance. She didnāt dare help this time. He needed to show his father he could do what was demanded of him no matter how cruel. Arina merely cleaned up the stall and considered the promise heād exacted from her. It was the opposite of what she wanted. Not an ask to stay or be faithful or wait, but to go and never look back. To never think of him again.
Arina was certain she would never think of anything but him.
Eris Vanserra upheld his word. Arina never saw him again, though she didnāt leave like he asked her to. That was the winter Eris Vanserra went to university across the channel and the year Arinaās mother became ill. Sheād written to Lady Vanserra, begging for any kind of help. Arinaās mother had very little money despite her prestigious position in the house.
The week after Christmas, Beron Vanserra came himself to see her, his wife trotting just behind him. He gestured for her to sit in the drawing room, still only thirteen years old.
āMy wife says you are asking for a physician,ā he began, sitting across from her, hands folded in his lap. āOne you cannot afford.ā
Arina nodded numbly, hiding her fear as best she could. āYes, sir.ā
āI will provide one,ā he told her, leaning forward to examine her carefully. āBut it will not be free. You will have to work off the cost.ā
āI will,ā she promised, ignoring the guilt she felt. Eris was stupid, she told herself. He was gone. She couldnāt abandon her mother to death simply to uphold an impulsive promise between a near stranger, no matter what he thought. Beron had drawn up a contract for her to sign while his wife watched with disapproving eyes. Beron, to his credit, did send a physician from the city and her mother got betterā¦for a time.Ā
It was a vicious cycle over those next three years. Her mother would recover just enough to send the doctor away only to immediately fall ill with the same coughing spell and Beron would send the physician back. Arina continued her classes as she worked, picking up the shifts in the kitchen without a word about it. Her mother, unaware of the deal sheād made with Beron, thought Arina was merely growing up. She spoke of asking the Archeronās if Arina could participate in the season with them, as if Arina was not already pledged to Beron Vanserra, likely for the rest of her life.
It didnāt matter. Arina was sixteen when her mother finally passed quietly in the night. The Vanserraās had just arrived, their first year without either of their sons at all. Lucien, too, had been sent away, leaving just the two of them to flit about the house, avoiding each other the best they could.
Beron paid for a funeral that his wife arranged. He never spoke of the arrangement at all, never rubbed it in her face like a villain might. Arina knew he merely added it all to her ledger, the balance an impossible sum given what she earned.Ā
Elain Archeron was the only one who knew, outside of Lady and Lord Vanserra. Arina had confessed it all one night when Elain asked if Arina would like to borrow some of her dresses. āLucien will help.ā
āHe cannot know,ā Arian whispered, thinking he might say something to Eris, who in turn would be furious sheād disobeyed him. āThis is the way of things.ā
Girls like Elain had pretty, easy lives.
And girls like Arina worked.
Present day- 10 years.
Eris Vanserra didnāt know what was wrong with him. If there was one thing he truly enjoyed, it was fucking. He could have done it every day for the rest of his life in the exact same position and never tired of it. That day he had the finest woman heād ever seen bent over his desk, her ass poised so perfectly as his cock slid in and out. He couldnāt figure out why he was struggling to enjoy himself. He slapped her ass cheek, earning a loud, theatrical moan.
Right. She was one of those, faking her enjoyment a little too much, cunt clenched around him as she did most of the work. Heir to the Vanserra empire, too many women saw only the title of Duchess when they looked at him. This woman, with her pretty chestnut hair, looked over her shoulder.
āDo you like this?ā she asked, her voice smooth and sultry. Eris was surprised to find he didnāt. He was still hard, still moving, still appreciative of the glide of her body against his ownā¦but he had stalled. It was as if his brain could no longer crest that hill. Eris reached for her hips, fingers digging in the skin, and slammed her against him over and over and over until he felt her release quiver around him.Ā
Come, he demanded of himself but his cock was stubborn. Even wrapped, it did not want to spill in another gold digging lady no matter how lovely her body looked wrapped around his own. Eris pulled himself out her with a growl of frustration, turning his back to force himself to breathe. It wasnāt as if his cock would settle. It would remain half hard in his pants until he was forced to finish himself, leaving Eris more frustrated than before.
āAre you well, Lord Vanserra?ā she asked him, turning from her desk. Eris felt her hands on his still clothed back, lips pressed against the fabric.Ā
āI am distracted,ā he admitted, sliding the condom from his cock and discarding it in the wastebasket beside his desk. Her eyes flickered when she saw it, as if the entire day had been for nothing. āIām afraid even you can do little to fix that.ā
He pulled his pants back over his hips, having only ever left them at his ankles.Ā
āI could get on my knees?ā she suggested, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. It was too late. The moment passed when Eris pulled his pants on. Instead of outright rejecting her like he ought to, he merely pressed his palm to her pretty cheek.
āNext time,ā he said before stepping around her for the door. āGet dressed. I have a meeting I will be late for if you do not hurry.ā
She clicked her tongue against her teeth and Eris considered she was not used to her advances being turned down. Get in line, he wanted to say. She was hardly the only woman who thought a pretty pussy and a willing mouth would give her whatever she liked. Women had been falling to their knees for him since heād been seventeen years old. The longer he remained unmarried, the more desperate some women became.
He hurried her out just in time for his mother to arrive, eyes rich with disapproval. āMama,ā he said, kissing her cheek.
āI hope you rinsed out your mouth, Eris,ā she chided. Her disapproval of his activities was well-known. Had he been a better son, like Lucien, he would have gotten married to a wholly appropriate woman and immediately impregnated her. Eris wasnāt Lucien nor was he a particularly good son though he liked to think that, as far as heirs went, he was not as disappointing as he could have been.
He ushered his mother into his town house, taking her to the familiar parlor where tea and sandwiches were laid out just as they always were. Eris had lunch with her once a week, allowing her to moan his status as a bachelor while telling him every little piece of gossip he missed because he was too busy drinking and fucking to participate in polite society.Ā
āAre you well?ā he asked, noting the black dress she wore. It was nearly summer, far too warm for the long sleeves and high collar.Ā
She sighed. āThere is no good way to tell you this. Your father had an accident returning from the continent. Itās unclear if he fell from his horse due to exertion or perhaps a heart attackā¦he passed this morning.ā
The world stilled for a moment. Beron Vanserra, the villain of Erisās childhood, was dead. āWhat?ā He didnāt dare believe it. Beron would live forever, his presence the dark shadow clouding Erisās life, making him feel as if he were perpetually eight years old.
āThereās no need to pretend,ā she said crisply, pouring a cup of tea from the floral patterned pot Elain had given him a mere four months earlier. āYour brother broke into laughter when I informed himāā
āI knew Lucien was your favorite,ā he grumbled. āYou told him first?ā
āHe has been staying with me,ā she reminded Eris, her russet eyes sharpening.Ā
āOnly because his wife is still cavorting about the countrysideāā
āConvalescing, I think you mean to say,ā she interrupted primly. āWhich brings me to several other matters. Lucien wants the Forest Estateāā
āDone,ā Eris said easily. āHe can have it in perpetuity, can sell it, light it on fireāā
āWill you stop?ā she asked, pushing a cup of steaming tea towards him. āThat home was a gift from the royal family. You cannot sell it even if you wanted to. It is yours, Eris. You are Duke Vanserra now.ā
Duke Vanserra. The title rang crisply in his ears, the long promised ascension heād always wanted. By virtue of blood and birth, Eris had always known and still, had assumed it would take an act of God to kill Beron. Heād only ever be his fathers right hand man, exacting his bidding while trying not to draw too much attention to himself.
āIf you expect me to live in that houseāā
āI do not,ā she replied, reaching her hand over the small, rounded table to hold his own. There were too many ugly memories for Eris. Not just at the country estate but their home in the city as well. He should have been staying with mother instead of Lucien, who had picked up all the responsibilities Eris shrugged off when he moved into his own home.Ā
āGive it to Lucienā¦allow his children to inherit it. I think that is a fine plan,ā she assured him. āBut Beron wanted to be buried out thereā¦and you will need to oversee it.ā
Heād have to go back.Ā
āI trust you are handling the arrangements?ā he asked, squeezing her thin hand in his own. Beron was dead. Beyond the title and the wealth Eris would inherit, his mother, after thirty-five miserable years, was finally free. She nodded.
āI think, once the mourning period has passed, I will remain with Lucien and Elain. She will need help with the new babe and I do not care for Velaris, if we are being honest. The manor will become yours.ā
āYes, alright,ā he managed. āI will handle things. Is there anything else or can we discuss the gossip I heard yesterday in the market?ā
Her eyes sparkled. āOne more thing, I promise. You remember Agatha, our housekeeper?ā
No, he thought too quickly, his mind flashing a pair of green eyes set in a golden face. āOf course.ā
āShe passed away ten years ago,ā Amera Vanserra told him, stirring more sugar into her cup. āHer daughter signed a contract with Beron to work as repayment for the debt his mother incurred with a physician he provided.ā
Eris could hear nothing for a moment. Only a rushing, roaring of blood filled his mind. He remembered very little of Agatha, of that terrible estate he loathed so much he would have danced around the flames should it ever catch fire. He did, however, occasionally think of her daughter Arina. Eris had very few regrets in his life and had always counted not figuring out what happened to her as one of them. He had hoped sheād left, just as she promised she would, and married some decent gentleman far, far away from the Vanserras.
Eris frowned. āSurely her debt is repaid?ā
āI have asked Beron about it over the years. I promised her mother I would look after her, I would ensure her future. Beron has been tight-lipped and would not tell me what was leftāā
āForgive it,ā Eris said quickly. He owed Arina far more than his life. Sheād been kind when it would have been easier to not be. She was the only person who had seen him cry.Ā
āSheāll need papers,ā his mother protested. āAnd I think she would not like thinking this is an act of charity. Elain Archeron wants to see her married and is hoping to use this summer to create a little season for Arina. Will you dredge those old documents up for me? Beron kept meticulous recordsā¦I know they must be somewhere in his office.ā
āIāll find them,ā he swore. That settled his mother, removing all traces of guilt from her countenance. Eris launched into his pathetic gossip without preamble, delighted when his mother one upped him, sharing all the messy matches being made. Eris was grateful men were not required to participate in the spectacle of courtship unless they wanted, certain he would have been married far, far sooner as heād never had particularly good sense. Heād have been caught with his pants down over some minor noble's daughter and be halfway towards his own brood by then.
Not unlike his little brother. To Lucienās credit, heād only ever wanted one womanāthe wife heād married a year earlier. Lucien had never wavered in his commitment to Elain and the moment she made herself available, Lucien all but murdered the competition at the point of his sword. Heād done everything exactly by the book so there would be no room to doubt his affection and had not, at least publicly, compromised Elainās virtue or chastity.Ā
Elain could give his mother a million grandchildren. Since sheād floated into their lives, his mother had brightened innumerably, and Erisās too, though heād never admit it. Elainās presence was a salve, not just to Lucien, but to his mother.
To him.
Eris waited a full day before stalking towards that brick faced manor, set on the nicest street in Velaris. It sucked up an entire block, sprawling both up and out, as if Beron had meant to have seven children instead of just two. Every home Eris had grown up in had been too big, too empty. He preferred his little town house, with its three bedrooms and its tight walls. There was nowhere for ghosts to hide or shadows to lurk.Ā
Eris noted the mourning flowers scattered about the foyer as he jogged up the polished wood steps. Was anyone truly sad he was dead? Perhaps whichever mistress heād taken that month was disappointed heād died before she could sire a bastard to challenge Eris and Lucien though even then Eris had his doubts. Beron had five other children scattered across the city. He doubted Beron had left provisions for them at all. It would be up to Lucien and Eris to decide if theyād inherit anything at all. Eris was not certain he wanted five other men clamoring for the estate and challenging Elainās new baby for the title as heir.Ā
Beronās office was the second biggest room in the house, save for his own bedroom. Eris closed the door behind him, inhaling the smell of tobacco and liquor. Heād hated this room as a boyāit was where Beron chose to punish his sons for whatever wrong doing heād imagined that day. The office was all immaculate dark wood and leather bound books all arranged around his large desk. Eris wanted to wreck it, to inject a little chaos just because he could.
Instead, he sat in that leather chair and began pulling open drawers. His mother hadnāt been wrongāBeron kept immaculate, precise records down to the cent. Eris knew exactly how much money the family possessed, having gone to the bank earlier that day to take over the accounts so there would be no disruptions but had he not, Beron accounted for it all.
Eris found Elainās dowry, unspent and tucked away in a little file noting that Beron had not gotten her signature to transfer it from her and Lucien to himself. Eris crumpled that little note and set the file to the side. Heād give that to Lucien, who could do whatever he liked with that money.
His mothers dowry was also unspent, an absurd sum for a man who already possessed so much. All the haggling Beron had done to acquire more coins, more land, was laid out elegantly as if his mother were little more than a flock of geese. That, too, was set in a pile. He intended to give her ownership of it instead of having to rely on him to pay for her thingsānot that he wouldnāt. Eris dug out their trusts, dug out the information regarding his bastard brothers and the allowance his father had been paying their mothers for upkeep for those who were still babes. Beron had paid for their education and Eris begrudgingly decided he would continue, even if it rankled him.Ā
Night had fallen before he finally stumbled upon the folder he needed. Tucked inside neatly was a contract drawn up by a lawyer in which Arina Novak agreed to work against the debt she incurred for her mothers health expenses. Arinaās signature was signed below, dated mere months after sheād pulled him from the forest. Eris reclined in his chair, staring at her flowing penmanship. He hadnāt been in a position to help her, he reminded himselfā¦and yet heād never truly gone looking, either. Heād just closed that door without a backwards glance, indulging himself on occasion to wonder where sheād gone.
No where. Beron had marked the costs of her mothers funeral, tallying it neatly. Three years of physicians who charged a pittance while Beron charged Arina for the cost of his time, for horses, for having to write things in his ledger at all. Eris imagined Arina, at thirteen, had likely not understood what she was agreeing to.Ā
Her mother had left her a small sum of money. Not muchātwo years of her salary, carefully saved to provide Arina a future out of the Vanserra household. Beron had taken it, paying himself back without clearing any of Arinaās debt. She would have been freed that day if heād been honorable. She could have joined Elain at school, could have participated in the marriage market at the same time, be married with her own childrenā¦and instead, Beron merely noted heād promoted her to housekeeper. Eris could imagine his fathers glee at getting a skilled worker for nothing. He hadnāt given Arina a raise for her work while charging her interest each year and adding to her balance for things the household ought to have provided for. Each time a child fell sick or something broke under her watch, Beron merely tallied it up.
Pulling out a piece of paper, Eris quickly noted her account paid for and signed it without consideration. He tucked it into an envelope along with all the other things he felt needed his attention, before going home for the day, his mind racing. Sheād be there when he arrived. Agatha had been a strange looking woman with the greenest eyes. Eris remembered very little about Arina.
But heād never forgotten those green eyes.Ā
**
āLook at you,ā Arina breathed when the carriage door opened. Lucien Vanserra hauled himself from the carriage gracefully, grinning when he saw her. Hand outstretched, he waited patiently for his very pregnant wife to scoot towards the edge. Far from letting her navigate the narrow steps herself, Lucien merely lifted her up and to her feet as if she were a feather in his hands. Elain scowled.
āI hate when you do that,ā she complained, pressing a hand against the small of her back. Arina drank in the sight of Elain, eight months pregnant and glowing. She was a dream in pale blue, her stomach rounded beneath the stretchy fabric, her hair pulled neatly off her head.Ā
Lucien shrugged unrepentantly. āWelcome home, Lord Vanserra,ā Arina told him with more than a little amusement. She still worked for him and was still responsible for overseeing this household. āIām sorry to hear about your father.ā
Elain snorted as Lucien said, āNo youāre not. No one is. I have never seen so many smiling faces in the wake of a dead man. His funeral is practically a party, to hear mother talk about it.ā
āWhen will she arrive?ā Arina asked, checking the mental boxes in her mind. Elain had insisted that she and Lucien preferred to share a room, that Lady Vanserra should take her old room, made exactly as she liked.Ā
āTomorrow,ā Lucien replied, patiently holding his wifeās hand as she maneuvered up the stone steps. āEris was still wrapping things up when we left.ā
Arina pretended the sound of his name did nothing to her. She was terrified to see the new Duke. She hadnāt seen him in the years after heād left, back straight, chin in the air as if his father hadnāt torn him to ribbons in the woods. What kind of man had he become, she wondered?Ā
āIām surprised she didnāt come with you,ā Arina admitted, following Elain upwards as well, hand clasped in her own.
āEris will make an excuse not to come if she doesnāt drag him down,ā Elain said sweetly even as she grimaced. āAnd this funeral is Ameraās attempt at matchmaking, however misguided.ā
Lucien smirked, as if the thought of his brother subjected to the manipulations of his mother amused him.Ā
āShould I put him in the Lord's quarters, then?ā Arina asked carefully. She had not let herself think of which room Eris would occupy. She didnāt wish to know where he slept, where he bathed or ate or lived at all.Ā
āPut him as far from his old room as you can manage,ā Lucien replied, leading Elain to a chaise just inside the marble foyer where she could sit. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and retrieved an envelope while Elain caught her breath. āSpeaking of Eris. Mother asked him to find the contract you signed with father all those years ago.ā
Arinaās heart stopped at the sight of Erisās elegant script, written neatly on the envelope. Just her name and nothing else. Sheād inquired only once with Lady Vanserra, four years prior. The matriarch had sworn to do what she could and Arina surmised she had finally lived up to that promise. Arina pulled it up with trembling fingers. There was no note from Eris, no condemnation or polite hello. Only a notice that she had fulfilled her obligation, signed and dated a mere four days earlier. Heād also neatly folded a will, left by her mother, and check for a sum of money sheād left behind that Beron had clearly meant to keep in perpetuity. Lucien read over her shoulder, clearly just as curious.
āWhat a bastard,ā he grumbled, snatching the check from Arinaās hands. It was written in Erisās same calligraphy, dated the day after heād closed her contract. āBeron hardly needed the money.ā
She swallowed, letting Lucien hold the delicate piece of paper. āYouāll deposit this for me?ā she asked, as if there was ever a question. She needed a man to do it on her behalf, given she was unmarried. Lucien smiled.
āIāll handle it. All of it,ā he added pointedly as Elain rose from her chair and waddled towards them. āConsider this your last dayāā
āLucien,ā Arina tried to protest. He raised a broad hand while Elain grinned brightly beside him. Theyād conspired, she realized.Ā
āI can manage a couple guests in my own home,ā he informed her smoothly. āIf I catch you working, I will take you out back and dunk you thoroughly in the lake.ā
āWhat Lucien means to say is youāve done enough,ā Elain said gently, looping her arms through Arinaās and forcing her to walk over the polished wood floors deeper into the house āAnd while no one would blame you for taking a horse and leaving, I was hoping youād stay here with me this summer as my guest.ā
Arina rubbed her hands against the blue uniform of her dress. Dread crept through her stomach. All sheād known, for ten years, was working in this house. The education sheād been given felt like a distance memory, hardly useful to her at all. What good was Latin when the toilets stopped working? She licked her lips nervously as Lucien offered, āI could take you to Velaris, if you like?ā
That would be worse. āNo,ā she insisted hastily. āNo, Iā¦āĀ
āDonāt you want to move on?ā Elain asked her gently. āFind a family of your own?ā
Arina forced a smile on her face. āLet me help you with this, at least. It will take you time to find a new housekeeper.ā
āNot as long as youāre hoping,ā Lucien warned. āDonāt make me force youāā
āYes, with the lake outback,ā she interrupted without malice. āYou are still that awful boy, you know.ā
Lucienās grin was unrepentant. āIām glad we understand each other. Let my wife make a fuss over you. Itās quite nice.ā
He strolled away, hands jammed in his pockets and a skip in his step. āI cannot stand how happy you have made him,ā Arina told Elain, watching him walk away. āHe is intolerable.ā
āI know,ā Elain agreed, one hand resting on her stomach. āI will endeavor to humble him.ā
How Elain chose to do that, Arina did not want to know. Like all of their courtship, Arina kept the pair of them at arms length. Elain and Lucien were her friends separately and, she supposed, together. However watching them fall in love, seeing how it might be between two people only made Arina feel lonlier. She knew Elain wanted that for her and once, Arina had wanted it too.
She was far too old to start. Twenty six and unmarried made it seem as if something was terribly wrong with her. Most girls wed far younger. Elain had been allowed more time than most as her proposal to Lucien was all but assured and she had wanted to travel with her sisters before settling down into motherhood.Ā
What man would want a wife who was not only as old as she was, but who had spent her life working as she did? Arina hardly had the gentile manners even middle class men dreamt of. She still liked to lurk in trees whenever no one was watching. Hardly wifely qualities. Arina was wild and, as sheād gotten older, had decided she didnāt want to change that.Ā
Elain dropped off an absurd number of dresses that evening, along with pretty shoes and haircombs. Arina had stared at them in the little room that had once belonged to her and her mother, hanging them neatly in her closet and arranging them gently on the dresser. She had so littleāeverything in that room belonged to her because sheād earned it. Elain was kind, and it felt bad to ignore those fine dresses and corsets for an easy cream colored dress she could slip over her head, that flowed against her frame without constricting her breathing.Ā
Instead of her usual bun, Arina opted for a braid over her shoulder. It was the hair of girls, not ladies and yet she decided she would not marry and so what did it matter if she dressed herself for comfort over fashion? Arina had no intention of attending Beronās funeral though she did make her way to the servants quarters to ensure everyone knew their places. Berta was already waiting, eager eyed and hopeful. She wanted to replace Arina.Ā
Arina could have made the recommendation to Lucien that day and heād have done it. She didnāt intend to make Berta wait forever. After all, housekeeper was the most prestigious job within a lord's household for a woman and Arina was sure Lucien paid far better than his father.Ā
Arina went to the library afterwards, avoiding the bustle around the house she would have usually participated in. She felt so idle. It was uncomfortable, not having anything to do with her time, no projects to organize, no staff to oversee. Just as sheād done when she was a girl, Arina plucked her favorite book from the shelf and fell into her favorite chair, head on the arm of the chair, legs dangling over the sides. No one but her ever came in here. The library was merely for show, for Beron to collect things with his absurd wealth that heād never use.Ā
She knew the book in her hand like she knew her own name. Each line was memorized, imprinted on her mind, so when she read, her lips moved too, reciting the words like an actor might. It was a child's story, the kind told to make them think the world smaller and safer than it was. The hero slayed the dragon, the world united. It made her feel better, even as an adult.Ā
Even when the library door pulled open and a man with amber eyes stepped inside. He didnāt see her for a moment, half hidden beside the window, a table just in front of her. He turned his back, running a hand through his short, auburn hair as he exhaled a noise of frustration.
āFuck you, father,ā he snarled, his voice dark and rich. āIf I could kill you myself, I would. You were an absoluteā¦bastardā¦ā his voice trailed off as he turned again, so slow the air seemed to still. Eris Vanserra had returned, every inch the Duke, now. The boy in her memory, with his rounded features and soft, snotty lilt had been replaced with the man standing in front of her. Tall, muscular and lean, Eris Vanserra was impeccably dressed in a silvery blue jacket cut stiffly against his angular, carved jaw. A complementary vest hugged against his chest, tapering against the fine cut of his white trousers that were swallowed at the knee by shiny black riding boots. Sheād wondered how he had turned out, if heād been as handsome as his looks had once suggested he might be.
He was absurd in his beauty, far lovelier than any man had the right to be. A lock of red hair had fallen against his forehead, unnoticed as Eris took her in. Recognition flared over his features.
āStill here, are you?ā he finally asked. Arinaās heart sank. They werenāt friends, she reminded herself, and whatever attraction she felt was foolish. Arina closed her book just as she might have done years past.
āLord Vanserra,ā she murmured, dropping into a polite bow. He merely watched, his expression unreadable. She attempted to pass him but Eris was quick, pulling the book she held from her hands. He turned the spine to his face, reading the faded gold lettering with narrowed eyes.
āStill here, still reading the same books,ā he stated, eyes snapping to her face. She felt like a child, embarrassed and flustered all at once. āI donāt know why that surprises me.ā
He handed her back the book, fingers careful not to touch her. Arina snatched it, holding it against her chest.
āYou havenāt changed at all,ā she informed him, turning her back to leave.
āYou have,ā he called after her, his words slowing her. Her hand hesitated on the handle of the door. She dared to look over her shoulder at him, wishing she hadnāt. He seemed angry. āYou were supposed to leave.ā
Arina wrenched open the door, hating him just a little. āAnd go where, exactly?ā she replied, slamming the door before he could respond. It was all well and good for Eris to uphold the promise heād forced on her under duress. Heād been half dead, bleeding and crying. She would have promised him anything to make him feel better. That was foolish, childish nonsense and they both knew it.Ā
And yet, Arina thought perhaps Eris had the right idea after all.
Maybe she should leave.Ā
**
Eris could not breathe. Pacing the library, he held his hand against his chest and forced air through his nose and out his mouth, over and over and over. This cursed house was a nightmare. Everything held some forgotten memory made new, dragging him into the murky darkness of his mind and his fathers cruelty. The only refuge was the libraryāBeron had never touched this place, had likely forgotten it existed.
But she hadnāt. And in his desperation to find somewhere free of Beron, heād strolled right into Arina Novak, the little girl whoād kept him from dying in the woods one night. He remembered so little after the first snap of the whip, had blocked most of it out. He recalled the cool rain against his back and the smell of the warm dirt pressed to his cheek.
And her, soaked in her white dress, pulling him to his feet and dragging him through the woods and over the hilly lawn where heād collapsed into the stable. Heād passed out, his dreams fraught and had woken to pretty green eyes tucking a blanket around his body. No one but his mother touched him with such care and yet when heād pulled her into his arms, sheād smelled of sunshine and citrus, hardly his mothers scents.Ā
Heād put her behind him. Even when heād honored her mothers will, Eris had given her little thought beyond his hope she did something with her life now that she was freed from Beronās influence. He hadnāt expected to find her still, dressed in a white dress so reminiscent of the night in the forest, her sunlit blonde hair swept in a messy braid over her shoulder. And her eyesā¦Eris braced his hand against the table. In his mind, she was a freckled, chubby cheeked girl.Ā
Not anymore. Arina could have brought Velaris to her knees if sheād ever been given permission to leave. Her beauty was overwhelming, bright like the midday light pouring through the window. Eris understood why Paris might risk his kingdom for Helen of Troy, had she been even half as lovely as Arina was.Ā
Arina, devoid of a corset and the fussy hairstyles the ladies in Velaris wore, her legs hanging over the side of a chair as she read a book for children. Arina, with her full, unpainted pink lips, her tanned skin, her mossy eyes. She was not for him and never had beenāhis first awareness of her was being shoved in the dirt by her own hands, only to watch his father bruise them unforgivably when he learned of her transgression.Ā
Not for himā¦Eris turned his eyes to the window, unsurprised to see her stalking over the lawn like a petulant child. He wanted to chase after her, to needle her until he was under her skin. Eris turned back to the library, instead going to see his obnoxious brother who had known Arina had been here all these years and said nothing at all.
āIf you want the office back, youāll have to fight me for it,ā Lucien said absently, rifling through their fathers old documents. āOr the bedroom.ā
āI wouldnāt touch that bedroom with a ten foot pole,ā Eris retorted, well aware Lucien had likely already done unspeakable things to Lady Elain. Lucien looked up, misunderstanding him. āI had everything changed.ā
Eris only rolled his eyes. āDid you not give Arina her inheritance?ā
Lucienās brows shot upwards. āOf course I did.ā
āThen why is she still here?ā Eris demanded, furious that Lucien would allow her to continue working when she ought to go. Escape.Ā
Lucien steepled his hands in front of his face, regarding Eris with an assessing gaze. Annoyed, Eris dropped to the blue leather chair across from Lucienās desk, leg crossed over his knee.Ā
āElain wants to find her a match,ā he finally said, leaning back in his chair. āWho am I to deny my wife?ā
āAnd Arina?ā Eris asked petulantly.
āWhy do you care?ā Lucien shot back smoothly.Ā
āSheā¦she did me a favor once,ā he finally admitted, catching the interest in Lucienās face. So Arina had never told, had she? Sheād just assumed she must, that servants gossiped. What better piece of information than to spread how the lord's son wept like a child in the arms of a maid's daughter? It softened him, if only a little. āI want to see herāā
āSettled, yes. We all do,ā Lucien agreed. āDontā worry, Eris. I can manage just fine without you hovering over my shoulders.ā
Eris scowled. āYouāll fuck it up. You always do.ā
āReassuring words from Duke Vanserra,ā Lucien retorted as Eris stood. āDonāt stay on my account, brother. Go back to Velaris and continue fucking your whores. I am sure that will fix things.ā
Eris rounded on his brother, who didnāt have the decency to look scared. āOh? And has marriage fixed you?ā
āPerhaps I was not so deeply broken,ā Lucien replied, leveling a cold stare. āFather cared far less for me than he did you, after all.ā
āAnd thatās how you can stand being here? In this fucking house withāā he cut himself off, reaching for a decanter of Beronās expensive liquor, throwing it forcefully against the wall behind him. Lucien didnāt flinch.
āBeron took too much,ā Lucien finally said, drawing Erisās attention back to Lucienās face, to the scar from their fathers brutality. āHe cannot have my peace. He is dead, and by all accounts, it was a slow, painful, and miserable death out on the road. By himself. No one to torment, to witness him.ā
āItās not enough,ā Eris said, panting wildly as if heād just run a race.Ā
āThen you will always be angry and he will Ā never care. The apology you want is not coming, Eris. He is not sorry for what he did,ā Lucien snarled in response. āMake your peace with it so you can move on.ā
Eris shook his head, stumbling from the office like a drunk man. He didnāt know where he was going until he yanked open the terrace doors. Sunlight shone around him, illuminating the beautiful grass and gardens. In the distance, Eris could see the sparkling lake juxtaposed against the cheerful green treetops of the forest. Eris pulled off his jacket as he began to walk, each step angrier than the last until heād thrown the piece of clothing to the grass. He removed his vest, rolling his sleeves to his elbows.Ā
He took off in a sprint, unsure where he was going or what he was doing. It felt good to unleash himself, to stop trying so hard to be his fathers perfect son, to release the expectations that had always strangled him. Gentlemen didnāt run, they didnāt work, they didnāt care about women or love or fun. They didnāt cry or feel anything but rage and did exactly as they wished so long as it was mostly within the bounds of the law.
The problem was Eris did feel. He felt everything, bottled in his chest until he made a mockery of his very being. Eris cared too much for a Vanserra, and as a result could just barely function. He was Beron in all the ways Beron valued and when he looked at himself in the mirror, Eris hated what he saw.
He slowed after a moment, turning in a circle on the leaf strewn path. āLost, lordling?ā a mocking voice called from a tree. Eris titled his head to find Arina, sitting just above him, her leg dangling once again. He grabbed her ankle and yanked, sending her tumbling to the ground with a screech.Ā
āDid my mother not instruct you on the ways of being a lady?ā he sneered as she rose to her feet, her hair unwound from the loosely tied ribbon. Arina pushed the hair from her face, the top of her head coming to his chin as she strode towards him.
āAs well as she taught you to be a gentleman,ā Arina snapped. Eris took a step towards her.Ā
āApologize,ā he demanded.
Arina didnāt yield, her fury only making her more lovely. āIām sorry youāre such a bastard.ā
Eris lunged and Arina took off, avoiding the path entirely to plunge into the forest unbidden, as if she were a child again. He raced after her, irritated she was so much better than he was at navigating his own ancestral lands. While heād studied, Arina had been given leave to roam wild. Not anymore. He had paid his dues and for what? He was Duke regardless and would have been even if all heād ever done was fuck his whores, as Lucien so crassly stated.Ā
He nearly caught her once, arms catching on her dress only to meet a branch to the face. She didnāt stop, not until she burst from the treeline to the dock, stopping so abruptly he slammed into her and sent them both toppling to the grass. Arina exhaled all the air in her lungs, her soft body breaking his fall. Eris was fine, though bruised, and present enough to know that when he hoisted her up over his shoulder, he was violating several fundamental truths regarding how men and women ought to act.
āEris,ā she gasped, kicking at his chest and beating against his back. āDonāt you dareāāHe threw her into the lake, watching her flail against the crystal water with satisfaction. He didnāt know why heād wanted to do any of it at allāwhy heād chased after her, why heād yanked her from the tree or even why it amused him to see her fall into the water.Ā
Arina didnāt surface for long enough to unsettle him. She could swim, he was certain of it. Still, Eris walked to the end of the dock, crouching on the edge to see if she was injured or drowning. Her hand shot from beneath the glassy surface, fisting in his shirt. Eris howled, tumbling into the chilly water without ceremony. She attempted to lift herself out of the lake as he went under, grabbing at her bare leg and dragging her back beneath him. Arina twisted, pulling from his grasp to surface for air.
āWhat is wrong with you?ā she demanded, pushing away when he surged towards her. āAre you trying to kill me?ā
Eris frowned. āNo,ā he finally admitted. Her eyes narrowed to slits.
āThis is a poor way to talk to a woman. Surely you must know that,ā she spat, swimming to the dock. He watched her hoist herself up, water sluicing off her body that was now completely visible to him. Erisās amusement only heightened when Arina stood, her dress clinging to every inch of her skin. Nipples peeked through the sheer fabric, giving Eris the general sense of her shape, of what she might look like undressed.Ā
She crossed her arms over her chest as he floated. āIām not trying to talk to you,ā he admitted. āPerhaps I wanted to see you naked.ā
āIāll tell,ā she threatened, drawing him back to the dock. Eris, too, lifted himself out of the frigid water, running a hand down his own sheer shirt and the toned body beneath. Arina barely glanced, as if sheād seen a million good looking men and he did not impress her.Ā
āIām so afraid of Lucien,ā Eris taunted, striding past her for the forest beyond. He had water in his boots and his pants were far too heavy to feel comfortable and yet Eris had the sense that if he stripped in front of her, sheād close her hands around his throat. He was so lost in his little victory heād forgotten everything else.Ā
āStop,ā she whispered, freezing him in place. Eris had never let anyone see him without his shirt, opting for either utter darkness or to keep it on his body. He swore he meant to snap at her, to turn like a furious dog until she backed away. Only Arina had ever seen, by virtue of being there when it happened. Even his own mother had never looked, had kept her distance as if she could not stand it.
Arinaās fingers slid beneath the wet shirt covering him. Impulsively, Eris pulled his shirt over his head, barring himself to this stranger, to a woman he barely knew. She sucked in a breath and, angry, Eris demanded, āDonāt pity me.ā
She traced the thin, pink lines over his otherwise taut back. āI donāt pity you, Eris,ā she murmured, so close he could feel her breath on his skin. Her hand pressed along his spine before he felt her lips graze the skin.
āI would kill him, if I could.ā
Eris spun so abruptly Arina skittered backwards, stumbling back to the wooden dock. Standing over her, half naked and exposed, Eris felt vulnerable and it scared him. āHe's' dead.ā
Arina drew her knees against her chest. āMaybe itās not enough.āĀ
Reality washed over him, returning his sense of decency. Heād chased a woman through the woods and thrown her in the lake. For what purpose, other than she frustrated him? Haunted him, he decided, staring into the golden green eyes he still saw in his nightmares. Far from a monster, Arina was an angel. No one had ever come for him, had cared, had seen him. She had.
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