Chapter 36: 36
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"I'm coming with you," Ithuriel insists the next morning, gnawing on a hunk of bread that we had kept stored in the cupboards, since both of us had yet to find reason to trust what the vampire kitchens had to offer us. I roll my eyes, crossing my legs at the ankles, thoroughly regretting telling him about the masquerade in the first place. He holds up a long finger as he chews, forcing me into silent apprehension as I watch his jaw work furiously from the armchair- which has since become my go to place in our series of rooms. His throat bobs as he swallows. Bored, and only half listening, I circle the wine in my glass, watching the red liquid stir up the sides of the glass.
"You can't go, especially with him. That prince is the worst of them all, I mean, he snapped his own brothers neck for heavens sake!" Ithuriel cries, raising his hands in what might be exasperation or anger, bread crumbs sprinkling around the room. Ever since I told him that the vampire whose neck Soren had snapped has been his own brother's, Ithuriel has been even more insistent, perhaps even adamant, that I don't go to this masquerade alone. I might even go as far as saying he looked hurt. The angel takes another furious bite from the decapitated bread loaf. I wince. I don't need to read auras to know that the anger is practically radiating off him: his hair a violent wreathing red, his sun and moon eyes flaming underneath the cool temperament of his face. Ithuriel makes to wipe away more crumbs from his silver cloak, and I take a long, overly drawn out sip from my wine glass. He glares at me, the feathers on his wings raised. I hadn't said a word to him all morning.
"You are okay with this? Letting him toy with you- even with the knowledge of what he can do to you?" I say nothing, flattening out the seams of my short black dress and place my glass on the coffee table. I don't really like the wine anyway.
"I thought you told me it was a good idea," I say flatly at last, eyeing him from over the pendant which I had lifted up to the light, still glowing and as ominous as ever. The liquid swirls.
"I told you to be careful," he hisses in response, and I snarl.
"I am not stupid, Ithuriel. I am not going to let him touch me." The angel's response is immediate.
"Touch you like he did last night? You reeked of him, Serena," Angrily, he throws the rest of the bread in the bin, his wings flexing and rattling the cabinets as his anger reverberates round the room. This time, I do not shy from it. I jolt up from my seat, pointing a cruel finger in his direction, jabbing at him through the air.
"You think I enjoy this Ithuriel? Letting him toy with me, pretending I don't want to kill him every time I see him? Well believe it or not, it's thanks to me that we now know where his room is, that I am able to see what we are up against here." I don't realise my voice is hoarse from shouting until it cracks on the last word. I turn from him, tempted to pull out the horns of my hair in sheer exasperation, tempted to reach for whatever object I could find in the cabinet and launch it at him. Can't he see what I am doing here? Ithuriel's low whisper sends the hackles raising down my spine.
"You did like it," Slowly, I turn on my heel. Hurt is in his voice. That's what it is. Hurt.
"What?"
"You liked whatever he did to you. Its written all over your aura,"
In that one, solitary moment, I lose it. Summoning all the anger I can muster, I ball it up into one great mass of power and lob it at his face. The golden orb explodes over his chest, splattering glittering drops of stardust over the room at the impact. I breathe heavily, my chest rising and falling as I wipe away to stardust from my cheek.
"How dare you," I hiss, grating my teeth in my mouth to stop myself grinding out further insults. Ithuriel narrows his eyes, not bothering to wipe off the golden trails of dust that coat his silver cloak, looking at me with an expression that seems a mix of disappointment and uncaring. This isn't the first time I'd gotten angry at him, but I had never gone as far to launch something at him before. Perhaps the bright blazing white of his hair is then something of shock. Good.
"Don't be a child, Serena. You can't get angry at me for speaking the truth. You can't do anything you want out here, there are rules." He says, his tone unnervingly calm, and sickeningly cold. His face is a mask of emptiness, no sign of the hurt that had been there moments ago. Pain pangs through me. Pain- and rage.
Rules, rules, always rules, always limits, always the never-ending nagging of what I should and should not be doing. What I can and can't have. I turn away from him, making to grab my sword that is leaning beside the fireplace, and buckle it angrily to my hip.
"If the councillors knew-" I cut him off before he can even finish his sentence.
"I don't care about the councillors and your fucking rules," I retort, almost screaming, the room pulsing with an angry golden glow around me, blinding so much that Ithuriel has to ward his face with his hands. The whole building shudders. My whole body freezes for a second, shock coursing through me like a poison in my veins, seizing up my limbs in its unforgiving grasp.
That shock wave came from me?
But I don't have time to calm myself. Fear and pain and anger bubble in my throat. Something falls off a shelf and breaks with a shattering crash. My body pulses with a golden, angry glow, swirling in vengeful coils around my face, my hands, and forming the angry claws of a lion that is trapped under my skin. And although that retort alone may just spell my doom, I find that I don't care. I don't care about any of it.
"Soren may be a good for nothing, hedonistic bastard, but at least he doesn't keep me trapped like a dove in a cage," It is in that moment, when my voice comes out as little more than a breathy whisper, that I realise my eyes are wet with tears. Everything about Ithuriel goes deathly quiet and I realise perhaps he has already read my aura, knows the damage he has done. But if he does, he says nothing. My stomach twists at my own words, twists in horror, and surprise, but I don't go to apologise. Ithuriel's face remains stubbornly and insolently cold, a blank canvass of steely, hard unfeeling- the look he always gave me when I went up against Councillor Igor, or asked to go outside the borders. When I did something I wasn't allowed to do. I can almost hear the words pounding against my skull:
Don't be a child, Serena.
I nearly hate him for it. He doesn't even stop me as I ram my way out the door, my breaths shallow, my eyes watery, and my stomach a tumultuous inferno of guilty things that I have left said and unsaid.
Don't be a child, Serena.
I don't see Ithuriel for the rest of the day.
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"I'm coming with you," Ithuriel insists the next morning, gnawing on a hunk of bread that we had kept stored in the cupboards, since both of us had yet to find reason to trust what the vampire kitchens had to offer us. I roll my eyes, crossing my legs at the ankles, thoroughly regretting telling him about the masquerade in the first place. He holds up a long finger as he chews, forcing me into silent apprehension as I watch his jaw work furiously from the armchair- which has since become my go to place in our series of rooms. His throat bobs as he swallows. Bored, and only half listening, I circle the wine in my glass, watching the red liquid stir up the sides of the glass.
"You can't go, especially with him. That prince is the worst of them all, I mean, he snapped his own brothers neck for heavens sake!" Ithuriel cries, raising his hands in what might be exasperation or anger, bread crumbs sprinkling around the room. Ever since I told him that the vampire whose neck Soren had snapped has been his own brother's, Ithuriel has been even more insistent, perhaps even adamant, that I don't go to this masquerade alone. I might even go as far as saying he looked hurt. The angel takes another furious bite from the decapitated bread loaf. I wince. I don't need to read auras to know that the anger is practically radiating off him: his hair a violent wreathing red, his sun and moon eyes flaming underneath the cool temperament of his face. Ithuriel makes to wipe away more crumbs from his silver cloak, and I take a long, overly drawn out sip from my wine glass. He glares at me, the feathers on his wings raised. I hadn't said a word to him all morning.
"You are okay with this? Letting him toy with you- even with the knowledge of what he can do to you?" I say nothing, flattening out the seams of my short black dress and place my glass on the coffee table. I don't really like the wine anyway.
"I thought you told me it was a good idea," I say flatly at last, eyeing him from over the pendant which I had lifted up to the light, still glowing and as ominous as ever. The liquid swirls.
"I told you to be careful," he hisses in response, and I snarl.
"I am not stupid, Ithuriel. I am not going to let him touch me." The angel's response is immediate.
"Touch you like he did last night? You reeked of him, Serena," Angrily, he throws the rest of the bread in the bin, his wings flexing and rattling the cabinets as his anger reverberates round the room. This time, I do not shy from it. I jolt up from my seat, pointing a cruel finger in his direction, jabbing at him through the air.
"You think I enjoy this Ithuriel? Letting him toy with me, pretending I don't want to kill him every time I see him? Well believe it or not, it's thanks to me that we now know where his room is, that I am able to see what we are up against here." I don't realise my voice is hoarse from shouting until it cracks on the last word. I turn from him, tempted to pull out the horns of my hair in sheer exasperation, tempted to reach for whatever object I could find in the cabinet and launch it at him. Can't he see what I am doing here? Ithuriel's low whisper sends the hackles raising down my spine.
"You did like it," Slowly, I turn on my heel. Hurt is in his voice. That's what it is. Hurt.
"What?"
"You liked whatever he did to you. Its written all over your aura,"
In that one, solitary moment, I lose it. Summoning all the anger I can muster, I ball it up into one great mass of power and lob it at his face. The golden orb explodes over his chest, splattering glittering drops of stardust over the room at the impact. I breathe heavily, my chest rising and falling as I wipe away to stardust from my cheek.
"How dare you," I hiss, grating my teeth in my mouth to stop myself grinding out further insults. Ithuriel narrows his eyes, not bothering to wipe off the golden trails of dust that coat his silver cloak, looking at me with an expression that seems a mix of disappointment and uncaring. This isn't the first time I'd gotten angry at him, but I had never gone as far to launch something at him before. Perhaps the bright blazing white of his hair is then something of shock. Good.
"Don't be a child, Serena. You can't get angry at me for speaking the truth. You can't do anything you want out here, there are rules." He says, his tone unnervingly calm, and sickeningly cold. His face is a mask of emptiness, no sign of the hurt that had been there moments ago. Pain pangs through me. Pain- and rage.
Rules, rules, always rules, always limits, always the never-ending nagging of what I should and should not be doing. What I can and can't have. I turn away from him, making to grab my sword that is leaning beside the fireplace, and buckle it angrily to my hip.
"If the councillors knew-" I cut him off before he can even finish his sentence.
"I don't care about the councillors and your fucking rules," I retort, almost screaming, the room pulsing with an angry golden glow around me, blinding so much that Ithuriel has to ward his face with his hands. The whole building shudders. My whole body freezes for a second, shock coursing through me like a poison in my veins, seizing up my limbs in its unforgiving grasp.
That shock wave came from me?
But I don't have time to calm myself. Fear and pain and anger bubble in my throat. Something falls off a shelf and breaks with a shattering crash. My body pulses with a golden, angry glow, swirling in vengeful coils around my face, my hands, and forming the angry claws of a lion that is trapped under my skin. And although that retort alone may just spell my doom, I find that I don't care. I don't care about any of it.
"Soren may be a good for nothing, hedonistic bastard, but at least he doesn't keep me trapped like a dove in a cage," It is in that moment, when my voice comes out as little more than a breathy whisper, that I realise my eyes are wet with tears. Everything about Ithuriel goes deathly quiet and I realise perhaps he has already read my aura, knows the damage he has done. But if he does, he says nothing. My stomach twists at my own words, twists in horror, and surprise, but I don't go to apologise. Ithuriel's face remains stubbornly and insolently cold, a blank canvass of steely, hard unfeeling- the look he always gave me when I went up against Councillor Igor, or asked to go outside the borders. When I did something I wasn't allowed to do. I can almost hear the words pounding against my skull:
Don't be a child, Serena.
I nearly hate him for it. He doesn't even stop me as I ram my way out the door, my breaths shallow, my eyes watery, and my stomach a tumultuous inferno of guilty things that I have left said and unsaid.
Don't be a child, Serena.
I don't see Ithuriel for the rest of the day.
"I'm coming with you," Ithuriel insists the next morning, gnawing on a hunk of bread that we had kept stored in the cupboards, since both of us had yet to find reason to trust what the vampire kitchens had to offer us. I roll my eyes, crossing my legs at the ankles, thoroughly regretting telling him about the masquerade in the first place. He holds up a long finger as he chews, forcing me into silent apprehension as I watch his jaw work furiously from the armchair- which has since become my go to place in our series of rooms. His throat bobs as he swallows. Bored, and only half listening, I circle the wine in my glass, watching the red liquid stir up the sides of the glass."You can't go, especially with him. That prince is the worst of them all, I mean, he snapped his own brothers neck for heavens sake!" Ithuriel cries, raising his hands in what might be exasperation or anger, bread crumbs sprinkling around the room. Ever since I told him that the vampire whose neck Soren had snapped has been his own brother's, Ithuriel has been even more insistent, perhaps even adamant, that I don't go to this masquerade alone. I might even go as far as saying he looked hurt. The angel takes another furious bite from the decapitated bread loaf. I wince. I don't need to read auras to know that the anger is practically radiating off him: his hair a violent wreathing red, his sun and moon eyes flaming underneath the cool temperament of his face. Ithuriel makes to wipe away more crumbs from his silver cloak, and I take a long, overly drawn out sip from my wine glass. He glares at me, the feathers on his wings raised. I hadn't said a word to him all morning."You are okay with this? Letting him toy with you- even with the knowledge of what he can do to you?" I say nothing, flattening out the seams of my short black dress and place my glass on the coffee table. I don't really like the wine anyway."I thought you told me it was a good idea," I say flatly at last, eyeing him from over the pendant which I had lifted up to the light, still glowing and as ominous as ever. The liquid swirls."I told you to be careful," he hisses in response, and I snarl."I am not stupid, Ithuriel. I am not going to let him touch me." The angel's response is immediate."Touch you like he did last night? You reeked of him, Serena," Angrily, he throws the rest of the bread in the bin, his wings flexing and rattling the cabinets as his anger reverberates round the room. This time, I do not shy from it. I jolt up from my seat, pointing a cruel finger in his direction, jabbing at him through the air."You think I enjoy this Ithuriel? Letting him toy with me, pretending I don't want to kill him every time I see him? Well believe it or not, it's thanks to me that we now know where his room is, that I am able to see what we are up against here." I don't realise my voice is hoarse from shouting until it cracks on the last word. I turn from him, tempted to pull out the horns of my hair in sheer exasperation, tempted to reach for whatever object I could find in the cabinet and launch it at him. Can't he see what I am doing here? Ithuriel's low whisper sends the hackles raising down my spine."You did like it," Slowly, I turn on my heel. Hurt is in his voice. That's what it is. Hurt."What?""You liked whatever he did to you. Its written all over your aura,"In that one, solitary moment, I lose it. Summoning all the anger I can muster, I ball it up into one great mass of power and lob it at his face. The golden orb explodes over his chest, splattering glittering drops of stardust over the room at the impact. I breathe heavily, my chest rising and falling as I wipe away to stardust from my cheek."How dare you," I hiss, grating my teeth in my mouth to stop myself grinding out further insults. Ithuriel narrows his eyes, not bothering to wipe off the golden trails of dust that coat his silver cloak, looking at me with an expression that seems a mix of disappointment and uncaring. This isn't the first time I'd gotten angry at him, but I had never gone as far to launch something at him before. Perhaps the bright blazing white of his hair is then something of shock. Good."Don't be a child, Serena. You can't get angry at me for speaking the truth. You can't do anything you want out here, there are rules." He says, his tone unnervingly calm, and sickeningly cold. His face is a mask of emptiness, no sign of the hurt that had been there moments ago. Pain pangs through me. Pain- and rage.Rules, rules, always rules, always limits, always the never-ending nagging of what I should and should not be doing. What I can and can't have. I turn away from him, making to grab my sword that is leaning beside the fireplace, and buckle it angrily to my hip."If the councillors knew-" I cut him off before he can even finish his sentence."I don't care about the councillors and your fucking rules," I retort, almost screaming, the room pulsing with an angry golden glow around me, blinding so much that Ithuriel has to ward his face with his hands. The whole building shudders. My whole body freezes for a second, shock coursing through me like a poison in my veins, seizing up my limbs in its unforgiving grasp.That shock wave came from me?But I don't have time to calm myself. Fear and pain and anger bubble in my throat. Something falls off a shelf and breaks with a shattering crash. My body pulses with a golden, angry glow, swirling in vengeful coils around my face, my hands, and forming the angry claws of a lion that is trapped under my skin. And although that retort alone may just spell my doom, I find that I don't care. I don't care about any of it."Soren may be a good for nothing, hedonistic bastard, but at least he doesn't keep me trapped like a dove in a cage," It is in that moment, when my voice comes out as little more than a breathy whisper, that I realise my eyes are wet with tears. Everything about Ithuriel goes deathly quiet and I realise perhaps he has already read my aura, knows the damage he has done. But if he does, he says nothing. My stomach twists at my own words, twists in horror, and surprise, but I don't go to apologise. Ithuriel's face remains stubbornly and insolently cold, a blank canvass of steely, hard unfeeling- the look he always gave me when I went up against Councillor Igor, or asked to go outside the borders. When I did something I wasn't allowed to do. I can almost hear the words pounding against my skull:Don't be a child, Serena.I nearly hate him for it.He doesn't even stop me as I ram my way out the door, my breaths shallow, my eyes watery, and my stomach a tumultuous inferno of guilty things that I have left said and unsaid.Don't be a child, Serena.I don't see Ithuriel for the rest of the day.
