Aureate Fates

11

  MARIPOSA, HAVE MERCY

—THEMA—

She shivered, clenching her muscles and balling her fists. Eyes shut, knees wobbling.

Thema was bare on the brown rug beside her cot, wishing for something to clothe her. Even if it was her chains themselves. The too-warm male that bore into her frail body only made her colder. Exposed to sheets of ice.

As more time passed, her lungs seemed to cave. Silent, she was, enduring the pain that stabbed into her stomach. And then, she heard the most glorious sound of all.

Pure, loud, rain. It pelted down onto the rooftop of her hut, and drowned out sinful sounds. All she heard was nature's greatest gift, giving the land a routine wash.

Or a warning. 

—DREW—

Ziralem's military, under normal circumstances, celebrated Jezzet's ball with the rest of the country. The Levantica Trees were the chief defenders, after all. But this night was different. After the Shoot and Run, troops lined the perimeters of the country; North and South. There would be no party for them.

"You know," Drew's mother began, arranging her silver necklace in the mirror located in the foyer, "I'd much rather you go to the ball with Elliana, or Gianna. Not that strange boy."

Drew lounged on one of the couches in the foyer, looking straight outside through the windows. The rain came with a vengeance that rattled the door hinges. He could feel the unforgiving cold, even from within his home. Bright lightning flashed outside and jolted Drew out of his thoughts.

"I am not going with Fenton, mother," Drew said, quietly, turning to look at her as she carefully slid on her silk red gloves. They complimented her attire, a silver gown.

Drew's mother turned from the mirror and faced him with her delicate brows drawn together. "You might want to tell that to the young man who's in the dining room awaiting you."

Ten-thousand shards of glass pierced his heart. And he suddenly knew why the maids had been sending him weary glances all evening. Drew attempted avoiding Fenton since the arena, and he had been remarkably successful up until this point. But he knew that he could run no longer. Fenton had come to collect.

"Was this a surprise to you, dear?" his mother asked, using her posied whisper and taking a step closer to him.

Drew immediately rose from the couch and gathered all the courage he could assume. "Not a surprise at all, mother. I will see you soon." He quickly turned away to find Fenton, knowing that his mother and father would be leaving to the ball soon.

As Drew made it down the third hallway on the first floor, he prepared himself for the feeling of utter despair. There, at the head seat of the gleaming dining table, Drew watched Fenton light his cigar with one of the burning candles. He set the cigar in his mouth and turned to Drew, with a simmering rage. A deranged violence.

"Did you forget that we were supposed attend the ball together?" was all Fenton asked before taking a deep inhale of his cigar. Drew knew he had surely gotten it somewhere at Midway.

"How long have you been here?" Drew asked, willing his fingers not to tremble.

In one swift motion, Fenton was on his feet, cigar in hand. "You've been avoiding me, my dear Drew. Have you been in the company of another?"

Drew nearly slumped his shoulders in helplessness. "My mother has been hesitant to let me leave the house after the beasts. I'm...I'm sorry." It was the best Drew could do, lie shamelessly.