Sequel: Conquer Me. ›
Underestimate Me
A Passing Stranger
Merek could not stop seeing the house maiden’s busy hands scrubbing the cold stone floor. Red suds stained her pale fingers while her jaw set in a hard line to keep her from crying. Branden was a close friend to her family. He took care of them after her dear father passed; the soldier was the one who recommended the young maiden to Rowen first. Merek took notice of the silent tear that drifted down her dirty face.
She explained what happened, told him she saw the whole incident from just around the corner. His father lied to the people. Branden was not a traitor that deserved to be struck down; he was a hero who should have been sent out again to find his faithful leader.
Merek looked at the horn of wine someone slipped in his hand moments ago while he thought of the maiden. He took it outside, prepared to throw it into the abyss of the village darkness, but he could not. The sweet warmth burned down his throat and made the ache of fear dissipate from his bones. He walked back into the tavern, and three horns later he stumbled out again.
The darkness left the village to the brightness of sunlight. Maybe Merek had more wine than he thought? People hustled about the village completing their morning routines while he stumbled through the annoying foot traffic. A soldier rushed a filthy little boy away from a fruit cart. The soldier’s harsh tone and evil actions reminded him of his father, and he wanted to end the soldier. With his mind nearly made up he started forward only to trip over his own foot. No one seemed to notice, or if they did he did not take care to consider their thoughts.
Merek shook his head as the heat on the streets began to rise. The soldier and the little boy escaped his sight and his thoughts as his eyes caught a glimpse of her. No other woman in the village ever held a candle to neither her nor her elder sister. Her long dark hair always filled with beautiful midnight waves which framed her high cheek bones as it flowed down her torso. Those deep perfect chocolate eyes captured his soul while making everything bad in the world right.
He wanted to run from the sight of her, from the pain of her. The smile on her rosy lips trapped his body in a state of perpetual longing for something he could never have, especially not now. She strode toward him, that smile plastered on her face while a blush lit up her pale features. Merek could feel the wild fire spreading to his own cheeks, but he could not be sure if it was the wine or her radiance nearing him that caused the heat to rise in his own features.
“Hello,” she whispered as her procession stopped. Merek could feel himself melting beneath her beautiful almond shaped eyes. The way the corners of her mouth turned up in an almost secret grin made his heart pound in his chest.
He nodded in response, afraid of slurring his drunken words or saying the wrong thing. She should have been his, but instead she was simply another trinket that Elrik would not grant his youngest son.
“I hope you have been well, Sir.” Her eyes took on a new gleam, one of true concern. “Your poor brother’s kidnapping must have you in shambles.” She held out her gloved hand, wiggling her fingers a little, for him to take comfort in. There was no comfort in that touch; though it was made in true fear for his family, it meant nothing more than that of a passing stranger to her.
Merek shook his head and her hand. “My dear brother will be well as he always is. Rowen will find a way to be freed from whatever monsters holds him captive.” Surprise filled him as his words formed clearly and pointedly at the girl before him, though he did not let it show on his face. He watched his brother long enough to learn how to control what others saw, and sometimes Merek often liked to think he had a much better poker face than Rowen.
Her eyes turned to slits for a moment before she took her hand from his. She replaced her sweet smile with a tortured frown. “Why must you insist upon acting in such a manner?”
Merek was about to answer, unable to stop himself, before a man’s voice interrupted his own. The voice automatically stopped his train of thought, his anger, and Merek took a step away from the woman who belonged to him.
“My sweet,” he sighed, “what are you doing with this…boy?” The last word meant to make Elrik’s son weak, but it only angered him.
“She is speaking of your happy engagement while I tell her horror stories of the monsters that nearly ruined my brother’s chances.” Merek watched the gloved fingers curl into a fist.
“Tis not a happy subject,” sneered Hadrian, Elrik’s closest friend on the council. Toughs of his dark hair took on a life of their own in the gentle breeze while he curled a finger over the side of his mustache. His dark eyes bore into Merek as if they could stab him a hundred times over for saying such treacherous things about his former fiancée and his current fiancée’s elder sister. “Come, dearest Rebecca. Let me whisk you away from such evilness.”
Rowen watched her run. With each leap her feet carried her farther away; his heart ripped a little further out of his chest at the sight of every inch she took. How could she never have loved him when all he ever wanted was to give her the world? Why did he still care so much?
He averted his gaze from the creature fleeing from the sight of him. As he turned his newly opened eyes on Meredith, Rowen realized Josselyn did not run from his sight. She ran from the swordswoman. What must this sister have done to deserve a reaction like that?
He could see it in her eyes. The woman before him only wanted to be with the woman running from their vision toward the trees. Josselyn did not love this women as she claimed. They wanted a home and they sought one in her and Maa, but Josselyn could only care about one thing. What could this women possibly give her?
They gave her the revenge she searched for; they offered her companionship where she had none; and Rowen could see it in Meredith’s eyes. She offered her leader love. Meredith’s boot connected with his stomach breaking at least one rib. Rowen allowed her a loud grunt of pain, but nothing more. “How can she love you when she is always running from you?” he whispered.
Meredith’s eyes widened and her blade met the tender skin beneath his chin. “What did you say?”
“She will not love you.” He spoke louder, the blade moving with his Adam’s apple. “Not while she is running from you.”
Meredith’s sword reared back, preparing to make its mark and take Rowen’s head with it. “She is not running from me,” Meredith growled. She swung her sword, but a high pitched scream stopped her just before the blade had a chance to slice his skin.
She explained what happened, told him she saw the whole incident from just around the corner. His father lied to the people. Branden was not a traitor that deserved to be struck down; he was a hero who should have been sent out again to find his faithful leader.
Merek looked at the horn of wine someone slipped in his hand moments ago while he thought of the maiden. He took it outside, prepared to throw it into the abyss of the village darkness, but he could not. The sweet warmth burned down his throat and made the ache of fear dissipate from his bones. He walked back into the tavern, and three horns later he stumbled out again.
The darkness left the village to the brightness of sunlight. Maybe Merek had more wine than he thought? People hustled about the village completing their morning routines while he stumbled through the annoying foot traffic. A soldier rushed a filthy little boy away from a fruit cart. The soldier’s harsh tone and evil actions reminded him of his father, and he wanted to end the soldier. With his mind nearly made up he started forward only to trip over his own foot. No one seemed to notice, or if they did he did not take care to consider their thoughts.
Merek shook his head as the heat on the streets began to rise. The soldier and the little boy escaped his sight and his thoughts as his eyes caught a glimpse of her. No other woman in the village ever held a candle to neither her nor her elder sister. Her long dark hair always filled with beautiful midnight waves which framed her high cheek bones as it flowed down her torso. Those deep perfect chocolate eyes captured his soul while making everything bad in the world right.
He wanted to run from the sight of her, from the pain of her. The smile on her rosy lips trapped his body in a state of perpetual longing for something he could never have, especially not now. She strode toward him, that smile plastered on her face while a blush lit up her pale features. Merek could feel the wild fire spreading to his own cheeks, but he could not be sure if it was the wine or her radiance nearing him that caused the heat to rise in his own features.
“Hello,” she whispered as her procession stopped. Merek could feel himself melting beneath her beautiful almond shaped eyes. The way the corners of her mouth turned up in an almost secret grin made his heart pound in his chest.
He nodded in response, afraid of slurring his drunken words or saying the wrong thing. She should have been his, but instead she was simply another trinket that Elrik would not grant his youngest son.
“I hope you have been well, Sir.” Her eyes took on a new gleam, one of true concern. “Your poor brother’s kidnapping must have you in shambles.” She held out her gloved hand, wiggling her fingers a little, for him to take comfort in. There was no comfort in that touch; though it was made in true fear for his family, it meant nothing more than that of a passing stranger to her.
Merek shook his head and her hand. “My dear brother will be well as he always is. Rowen will find a way to be freed from whatever monsters holds him captive.” Surprise filled him as his words formed clearly and pointedly at the girl before him, though he did not let it show on his face. He watched his brother long enough to learn how to control what others saw, and sometimes Merek often liked to think he had a much better poker face than Rowen.
Her eyes turned to slits for a moment before she took her hand from his. She replaced her sweet smile with a tortured frown. “Why must you insist upon acting in such a manner?”
Merek was about to answer, unable to stop himself, before a man’s voice interrupted his own. The voice automatically stopped his train of thought, his anger, and Merek took a step away from the woman who belonged to him.
“My sweet,” he sighed, “what are you doing with this…boy?” The last word meant to make Elrik’s son weak, but it only angered him.
“She is speaking of your happy engagement while I tell her horror stories of the monsters that nearly ruined my brother’s chances.” Merek watched the gloved fingers curl into a fist.
“Tis not a happy subject,” sneered Hadrian, Elrik’s closest friend on the council. Toughs of his dark hair took on a life of their own in the gentle breeze while he curled a finger over the side of his mustache. His dark eyes bore into Merek as if they could stab him a hundred times over for saying such treacherous things about his former fiancée and his current fiancée’s elder sister. “Come, dearest Rebecca. Let me whisk you away from such evilness.”
~~~
Rowen watched her run. With each leap her feet carried her farther away; his heart ripped a little further out of his chest at the sight of every inch she took. How could she never have loved him when all he ever wanted was to give her the world? Why did he still care so much?
He averted his gaze from the creature fleeing from the sight of him. As he turned his newly opened eyes on Meredith, Rowen realized Josselyn did not run from his sight. She ran from the swordswoman. What must this sister have done to deserve a reaction like that?
He could see it in her eyes. The woman before him only wanted to be with the woman running from their vision toward the trees. Josselyn did not love this women as she claimed. They wanted a home and they sought one in her and Maa, but Josselyn could only care about one thing. What could this women possibly give her?
They gave her the revenge she searched for; they offered her companionship where she had none; and Rowen could see it in Meredith’s eyes. She offered her leader love. Meredith’s boot connected with his stomach breaking at least one rib. Rowen allowed her a loud grunt of pain, but nothing more. “How can she love you when she is always running from you?” he whispered.
Meredith’s eyes widened and her blade met the tender skin beneath his chin. “What did you say?”
“She will not love you.” He spoke louder, the blade moving with his Adam’s apple. “Not while she is running from you.”
Meredith’s sword reared back, preparing to make its mark and take Rowen’s head with it. “She is not running from me,” Meredith growled. She swung her sword, but a high pitched scream stopped her just before the blade had a chance to slice his skin.
