𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃│✔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟏

Pandora 

♡

I only notice the slightly more mature aura around Jonathan when he spots me, his hungry stare disgustingly tracing my form as I steadily walk towards the empty seat next to Adonis and Esmée. The memories of him wanting to 'practice' with me the ways of a lover at the tender age of ten coming back to the surface in waves of discomfort.

 Sitting at the head of the table, it takes Father longer to notice me than Mother, who's sitting at the other end, with the wives of the Cat-Eye Council members who don't hesitate to share the looks between them, before looking back at Mother to see her reaction. As I stride around the table to take my seat, an awkward silence has spread around the inhabitants here, the guests being the only ones who don't find flaw in my peculiar choice of attire. I don't let the shame sink in, the insecurity of going against the tides of my blood aggressively floating on the surface of my confidence.

 The decision I made was impulsive, perhaps even foolish in the eyes of those judging me. But, I don't doubt it's the right one. The more brave one I could have opted for, in comparison to the tame baby blue and lilac of the two safe options hanging in my closet.

"How dare you dress so disgracefully at diner!"

I predicted Father would react this way, so I only grant him a polite smile when turning to him. I understand his unease, it mustn't be comfortable to see your own offspring dressed like the many mistresses you invite in your chambers late at night when Mother is already sleeping in your shared chambers. Howbeit I'm not enough brazen to speak such daring words yet, the flight or freeze escape greener than the grass outside keeping me silent to expose him. Although I'm almost certain that everyone at Court knows about the blonde he sees on weekends, or the brunette he visits strictly during the first week of every new moon. Much less about the one sitting at this table right beside Mother.

I look up to Ciaran who's leisurely leaning back in his seat, the crystal wineglass swinging between his slender human-like fingers. His signature smirk always present on his features as his gaze wanders from Jonathan who continuous to make me uncomfortable with his roaming eyes, to Father, slowly following an invisible line of scent tracking back she who, although being his wife's closest friend, shares a secret with him so humiliating that it would cost them their reputation. Perhaps even more since she resides here only because of her husband's place at the Council.

 I swear I, can practically see the glint his eyes lighten up with when his thoughts catch up with mine, and I try to reach for him under the table. My legs barely long enough for the pointed tip of my shoes to reach his knee, making him look at me. His dimples showing when I subtly shake my head with an expression that warns him that whatever mischief he has in his sick mind, better stay in the space between his ears. The last thing my Clans needs is a divorce, or the Council losing one of its most important members. I cover my mouth with the back of my hand to hide a cough when he cages the foot I nudged him with between his legs. Our interaction catches the attention of Adonis who sends me a questioning stare, to which I innocently shrug pretending ignorance. 

For the next hour or so, I politely dodge all of my family's bullets with tact all the while dealing with the murderous commander's childishness under the table. When I finally manage to prey my foot free from his grip, he manages to pull off my shoe, to which I respond my hitting him in the knee. The flow of the conversation streams fluently, Sir Aries is busy discussing military matters with Eliza and Damien while Adonis silently listens to them. 

During our very uncomfortable route here, I thought I was imagining things, but now I'm certain of the subtle glances Damien throws in Adonis' direction, who seems all too oblivious to it all. Father is actively talking with Ciaran, who's here in the name of the King. Unlike me, he's almost too good at hiding the aggravation of the leg battle happening beneath the table. 

I, on the other hand, stutter ever other sentence while I desperately try to listen to Esmée as we discuss the funny mess that is her marriage. She wanted talk about my mana, but I soon brushed it off.

If only she knew that I lost all motivation to find reason for my purpose. The Oracle foresaw my death, the High Mage told my parents long ago that the path of self-destruction would be the only one following me. Stubborn me is persuaded that ignorance is my bliss in this case, and I yet have to find a reason for that to change.

"Engagement ceremonies usually take place during spring, may I ask why you moved it to now?" Adonis asks Jonathan, catching my attention as well as Father's. If they aren't careful with their answer, it would sound suspicious of them to hurry the political tie between our Clan and Silver Scale. Especially after what we witnessed at the borders.

"The Lord of Silver Scale agreed that now was a better time." Jonathan's mumbled response is as vague as we were always taught to answer in case of being confronted by nosy politicians. This isn't a snooping, money hungry man he's dealing with, though. It's Adonis. The King's 3rd in command sitting in his presence together with his higher-ups.

"We're at the end of the fifth moon of the year, where's the hurry?" Esmée interjects curiously, her curious eyes stealing a glance at Father who doesn't bother hiding his distaste at the woman daring to address him directly.

"If you want to know the full truth," he dramatically pauses to build up on the suspense, everyone at diner has by now gone silent.

"My son's marriage wasn't an urgent matter that wouldn't have been addressed until the next couple of years to come, wasn't it for my daughter to run-off on the day she was promised to her betrothed, we wouldn't be in such...fragile situation." I have to keep myself from snorting in a very unladylike manner at the usage of 'betrothed' for Lord Octavius. That chicken head didn't see me for more than a lover for the night.

"Believe me, the King will reward you for letting Lady Pandora stay at our Palace." The light tone at which Sir Ciaran speaks makes me cease any movements above and under the table. The coldness of his fingers tracing circles on the bare skin of my ankle that he managed to capture between his knees sends an agreeable heat of comfort through me. I've always been curious as to how he manages to gain the entire room's attention whenever he decides to speak up.

 The tone at which he continues never more sharp than the soft tapping of his index against the table in a rhythmical verse, following the rhythm of the candid circles drawn on my skin. I'm not all too familiar with the King's 1St in command. I'm familiar with the bastard who always knows how to sneak up on me. I've seen him hypnotise a man into killing for him without a lift of a hand. But, other than that, I've never witnessed first hand what brings the darkness around him. 

All I know is that, when the dimples disappear from his cheeks and that smiles disappears from his face to make place for the sinister smirk, no good is promised. The softness of his fingers grows into the sharpness of claws, the pressure at which he draws remains soft when he grabs my ankle and pulls it closer to his torso, makes the sole of my foot graze another very dangerous area of his body. 

I break his stare when I feel a blush taint my cheeks, and weakly try to break free from his grasp which backfires horribly when my toes press against his pants.

In the name of all Gods above, I did not just touch what I think I touched.

His eyes darken at the contact, tongue tracing his lower lips slowly without looking away from me, and I feel the inferno in my chest burning wildly. After a moment, he finally looks away from me, and I immediately wish to draw his eyes back when I notice him looking at the Minister's wife sitting right next to mother.

No. Way.