A Bastard's Allure-Chapter 82: Smiles And Racing Hearts

Darion and Jophiel had been traveling nonstop for the last few days before they arrived at the gates of Mysthaven. Surprisingly, the gates were open to everyone. It was a royal wedding after all.

"It’s so cold ," Jophiel complained, rubbing her shoulders to generate some warmth. Unlike her, Darion was heavily dressed. He appeared more human to her now than before.

She stole a quick glance at his side profile, noticing how fast his beard had grown. His hair was a shade of brown due to lack of a bath the last few days they’d travelled. He really needed one!

As if he’d read her mind, they walked into an inn that was conjoined with an ale house. The revellers were discussing about the royal wedding and some expensive carriages they had laid their peasant eyes on after a long time.

But the ale house fell silent the moment Darion stepped in, Jophiel instantly cowering behind her to hide from the predatory looks. Darion surveyed the area in the same manner before proceeding to the counter. Jophiel was torn between running out and following Darion. Nevertheless, so ended up choosing the wrong decision.

"I need two rooms," he said, looking at the innkeeper’s scrawny face. He saw his lips twist in disgust.

"There ain’t no rooms here," he replied and busied himself with the order of another customer.

Darion let out a sigh, digging into his pockets. "Perhaps you might reconsider your words," he said, slamming a crown coin on the counter. He could see the innkeeper’s eyes widen in surprise.

"That’s a crown coin!" He exclaimed, but low enough for no one else to hear him.

"It is," Darion affirmed. The innkeeper moved to touch the coin but Darion was fast. "Do you still have the rooms?" He asked, rolling the coin on his fingertips.

"I’m afraid there’s only one room left," the innkeeper replied, his eyes never leaving the golden coin.

"One is better than none," Darion said and slammed the coin on the counter. The innkeeper quickly grabbed the keys and handed them to him.

"Welcome to Mysthaven MiLord," he bid, now all smiles.

"Milord," Jophiel purred once they were out of sight. "If the fool knew it’s the local currency in Eldoria, he’d sacrifice his blood for a penny." She laughed.

"It’s made of gold which is rare in these parts. Humans love gold. You could have seen the greed in his eyes."

He inserted the key and walked in first. Jophiel’s hands were still wrapped on her shoulders. There was a small bed near the wall and a tub in the middle.

"It should be warm in here," Darion said before dropping his things on the bed. God, he stunk! His eyes found Jophiel still rooted at the same spot, her eyes scanning her surrounding apprehensively, before they locked with his.

Her hair was messy, some strands still stuck to her face because of the weather last night. She didn’t question him about his motive once he found Gabriel, of which he was grateful. But how could he deny the fact that she was a living temptation, even at her worst!

His eyes moved to her curves before he involuntarily bit his lip. She did cross his mind in his dirty thoughts, once or twice. The dress she wore did less to hide her curves, despite the dirt on it.

"I need a bath," Jophiel said, breaking him from his reverie.

His eyes traveled her length, back to her eyes. She couldn’t help but swallow nervously. Lately, there was something to his eyes whenever he looked at her. It was as if she was some prey he could jump on anytime if he couldn’t find it in him to tame the beast. He was failing terribly so far!

"Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head before withdrawing his eyes from her. She appeared flushed and it hurt looking at her now. He’d lose his senses if he did. Maybe he needed a cup of ale to clear his mind.

"I’ll just go and grab some food," he said, excusing himself. Jophiel let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding before walking over and closing the door. Darion had done nothing but give her chills these last few days.

She walked over to the tub, letting her hand feel the lukewarm water. Standing at the end of the tub, she let the dress slip off to the floor, revealing her glamorous body. There was a scar on her back, holding a dark story she never wished to share with anyone soon.

She sat in the tub, the lukewarm water giving her a calming sensation she never knew she’d miss this much. It almost felt like a cleansing of sins. Her skin was covered with grit making her feel dirtier all over again.

Darion sat in a corner in the inn, a mug of ale in his hand. He took a sip, the bitter taste making him crunch his face.

But that was not what was bothering him. She was there, in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to ignore her. Her hands wrapped innocently on her shoulders...

A knife was plunged on the table drawing his attention. It was so close to his elbow he could feel the tip grazing his skin. His eyes traveled the knife’s length to settle on a strong hand, and eventually a bulk man with a moustache.

"I saw what you gave to that lot over there," he said, referring to the innkeeper who was now being accosted by other two men. Darion’s gaze returned to the man standing in front of him before he took a sip of his ale, unfazed!

"You think this is funny, boy?" The bulk man asked. When no response came, he moved to grab Darion by the collar of his shirt. Darion grabbed his fingers with his free hand, snapping them until the sound of bones breaking sounded in the ale house.

Placing his drink on the table, he grabbed the knife by the handle, pinning the already broken arm on the same spot the bulk man had sealed it, but now with the palm of his hand sandwiched between it and the table.

The human let out a loud scream as his blood trickled through the gaps on the table. The others fled on seeing what had happened to the big man, leaving the innkeeper alone.

*****

The double doors to the throne hall swung open revealing princess Elena clothed in white. Her face was veiled as she ascended the flight of stairs leading to the parallel ground that served as the dance floor this evening.

"Beautiful, isn’t she?" Andrian whispered into Charles’ ears who nodded in agreement. The music switched to a hymn as Elena neared the high table. All eyes were on her now, though she dreaded every step she took. It was like walking towards her own grave, but alive!

She couldn’t thank God better when she finally reached the high table, away from the prying eyes. She sat on her designated seat, sighing inwardly.

Andrian rose, a glass in his hand, and with it, the music dying slowly until silence befell the once vibrant hall.

"In our midst today is King Magnus of Althenia and his son, prince Charles. All of them to support our course of annihilating the blood suckers, forever!" He started in vigour.

"In order to strengthen our alliance with the Althenians, I’ve agreed to offer my sister, princess Elena, and agreed on a marriage with her childhood friend, prince Charles."

The guests slammed the tables in agreement. Elena’s heart raced. No one cared about her opinion in all of this. And now that it was happening, it appeared more realistic. And though Gabriel was locked in some damp cellar underground, she wished he’d come to her rescue this very moment.

"You’re nervous?" She heard someone ask at her side. She turned to see old Lord Brumfort seated by her side. If the rumors were true, he’d already be dead!

"I’m not...," she shook her head, but his eyes. They were different, almost radiating a layer of gold beneath them. Though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, she could tell something was off about him, almost a familiar feeling.

"A toast to Althenia!" Andrian said, raising his cup. The guests followed, some music playing low in the background and eventually rising to a crescendo when the king sat.

"To new beginnings," he toasted king Magnus.

"To new beginnings," Magnus toasted back before shifting his eyes to the dance floor. The feast was starting to bore him already. It was not his thing anyway. Supporting his head with the back of his hand, he leaned on the chair, his eyes lazily scanning the guests. They landed on a veiled lady, his interest piqued now.

"May I have this dance?"

Elena lifted her eyes to see prince Charles standing in front of her with hand extended. His free arm rested on his back. She didn’t know why but she looked at Lord Brumfort for approval. But the old bear didn’t move an inch.

Conflicted, Elena put her hand into Charles’ before he led her to the dance floor. The mood of the music switched to slow and sensual as they started swaying to it.

’God! He’s always cold!’ Elena thought when their fingers entwined. What if he was a cold hearted monster just like his body?

Charles leaned close, so close his breath, the only warm thing coming out of his body, fanned against Elena’s skin.

"I know you hate me," he whispered, which was true. No, she despised him with passion. Spending a second with him felt like mental torture!

"This scar on my eye disgusts you, don’t it? You think I forgot who put it there?" He asked, breathing heavily against Elena’s skin. She swallowed hard trying to fight the feeling creeping into her body.

"If you think our marriage will be a happy one, you’re mistaken! Everything that your brother did to me that night, you’ll pay with your blood!"

The music came to a halt, Elena and Charles offering a bow to the king before resuming to their seats, one with a smile and another, a racing heart.