NINE PART I
A dream.
It would have been nice to at least have one while she was knocked out cold for gods only knew how long. But then and again, who was she kidding? Better be off dreamless which constituted to a nightmare less sleeps. And besides . . .
"No! No! And no! You ancient pieces of Homo sapiens can't see her, so no! And yes, Magnus, that includes you, kid."
"You sound like Serena's angry mother, Miran. No offense meant there."
"Offense taken! And it's Verēna, you scatter-brained squirt."
"They sound the same! Why do you always fuss over her name, people?"
"Because your broccoli-sized brain always get it wrong! Jesus Christ!"
"Broccoli? Nobody insult my veggy and get away with it!"
"I don't think she's referring to the real thing, Mag."
"No, Kai. Astreon or not, she has no right to degrade my greens!"
"By comparing it to your brain size? Mag, I think you missed Miran's point there. The lady meant to offend you and not your . . . err . . . broccoli."
"Nope! It's very clear to me that she have to be punish for committing such atrocity to my broccoli."
"Oh, really now? Then bring it on, squirt!"
. . . she had to shut their hour long banters already.
With an exasperated sigh, Verēna untangled herself from the soft grey sheets of her spacious octagon four-poster bed. Brushing aside the milk-white sheer curtain falling around the bed to her left side, her feet made contact with the soft fur rug as her unbraided jet black locks tumbled down her shoulders to her lap.
Despite the dimness of the room, she immediately noticed the satin black kimono robe that went all the way down her feet and was cinched around midriff by a ribbon. It had large sleeves, widening right under her armpit and almost concealing most of her hands; a typical clothing of Ferguan Clan's people. Miran must have changed her into it considering that she'd always go for a button down shirt or camisole to sleep.
Oftentimes she'd prefer sleeping shirtless, not because she wanted to. More like because the scars in her back stings at the simplest contact of fabric, despite seemingly healed from outside. Not feeling any twinge of pain only proved that Miran did her wonders on her again this time. The woman was truly a heaven sent.
Running her fingers through her hair, Verēna strutted out of her plain, unembellished room and immediately came face to face with the cottage's small yet cozy living room. As long as the door to her room creaked open, all the noise ceased down and three sets of eyes immediately fell on her impassive figure. Two pairs of golden eyes and one hazel orbs regarded her with slight widening of eyes before she strode past the area, heading towards the kitchen without much of a care.
Light footsteps trailed behind her. By the time Verēna had taken her usual seat at four-seat table beside a window with a perfect view of the courtyard, a bowl of porridge with a sliced boiled egg and onion chives was already set in front of her.
"Are you feeling well now, Vee?"
Verēna hesitantly nodded as Miran took the opposite seat across hers and prodded the bowl of porridge closed to her. Yet her attention wasn't on it, but the handful of familiar faces resting under the shade of orange trees outside.
"You sure? D'you want me to get anything for you?"
Frowning at the unpleasant sight outside her cottage, Verēna turned to Miran and asked instead, "What on gods and goddesses are those people doing outside?" She jerked her head outside the window and Miran quickly answered.
"Oh, escorts of Magnus. No worries, there," Miran responded with a nonchalant waved of a hand.
Verēna cryptically stared at her friend. "And why, pray tell, did the Minister have to be escorted by Astreon's of Ariath and Hortis? The last time I'd checked, guardians don't take body guarding stuffs."
"Out for three freakin' days and the first thing you'd do is rat on me like a freakin' Detective Conan." Miran scowled at her and eyed the bowl of porridge, then her. "Eat that up before I shove it down your stubborn throat, you weasel."
Verēna's eyes narrowed to slits. "You're doing it again. You sound like a mother hen again. I don't like it when you're like that."
"Well, shit Sherlock. I won't be if you'd keep your cheekiness low! Like seriously!" Miran exaggeratedly exclaimed. "Tone down your menstrual cycle-like mood swings and just do what I told you to. Gosh! You stresses me out. I think my pimples gonna breakout again sooner than soonest. And that'll be your fault!"
Verēna grabbed the silver spoon dipped into the bowl of porridge. "Are you sure it's not your time of the month yet?"
"It's not!"
Nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders, Verēna began to dig in, grateful that Miran miraculously kept her mouth shut until she scraped the bottom of the bowl. Setting it aside, she locked eyes with her friend's scrutinizing ones.
"Okay, fill me in."
As long as she said the words, Miran reiterated the events after she passed out in the pond. Verēna grimly nodded upon learning that Lord Rayo was the one who lifted her out of the boiling pond which was the result of her brief slipping out.
Boiling, huh? She sure thought it was only lukewarm.
"Good thing, Rayo and I were still there when it happened," Miran chastised. "Kai transported us here."
Verēna's brow twitched at the mention of elder Romulus. "Transported?"
"Uh-huh. That kid can travel through shadows," Miran muttered, seemingly wrestling with herself before bouncing back to her usual cheery self. "Cool, right?"
Intentionally veering off from the topic, Verēna went to clean the dishes, letting Miran blathered on about the past days' event around Nemiah.
"And ah, I almost forgot. There will be a bonfire at town's square tonight. You should come, Vee. It's the right opportunity to make you known as this country's Priestess. Their priestess. I can accompany you."
Verēna grimaced at thought of facing the Nemiahn people, and be officially introduced as the country's Priestess. Merely imagining their clamours repulsed her dearly. She shoved the thought away.
"In short, you want me to have fun by accompanying me." Wiping dry the bowl, she set it aside and whirled around. "Or you mean the other way around, aye?"
Miran's Cheshire cat smile, intertwined hands rested under her chin, was all Verēna needed to confirm her suspicion. "Aw, come on, Vee! It'll be fun! There will dance─"
"We both know I don't dance."
"─singing, feast, and a looooot of drinks!"
"And there you go," Verēna snorted. "I expect nothing less. Just wait until Lord Rayo hear of this."
To her amusement, Miran exasperatedly gasped. "Don't you ever dare!"
"Even if I don't, he'd still know, anyway. Best of luck there."
"I agree with Miran."
Verēna glanced at the kitchen's arching doorway where the young Minister stood. She bowed her head in greeting albeit that she should have done it the moment she stepped out of her room.
Totally not in the mood.
"You should come, Marina," he chirped.
"It's Verēna, Your Excellence. And as per the invitation, I don't think it's advisable to mingle with a crowd. Certainly, either Lord Mavi or Lord Nuallan told you why already." She lifted her gaze, bearing it to the lad. "Or would the event that transpired nights ago in your household isn't enough explanation?"
"Ah, yes. You reduced my garden into cinders and even fried all the koi in the pond. Sage is pretty upset," the young Minister mused, pouting ever so slightly. "I don't blame you. It surprises me though . . . ."
Verēna opened her mouth, but the young Minister wasn't done yet.
". . . that you have it," he playfully drawled, making her clenched her jaw. "Tell me something."
"That's enough, Magnus," Miran interceded with a warning in her tone, but the young Minister seemed to turn deaf ears.
"How does it feel to house the Fates' ire inside your body?"
"Magnus!"
"What? She has the touch of death. That's fascinating!"
Fascinating? Verēna mentally smirked. If it would have been used for Andromeda and Kira's Seer's Blessing, then she could have agreed. But to her? Hers were anything but fascinating.
As much as she loathed the Romulus bloodline, hearing the young Minister uttered such word to describe it amused her. But then and again . . .
"Why, pray tell, were you curious, Your Excellence? By squeezing the answer, would that somehow feel you a li'l better knowing that your bloodline isn't the only ones bestowed with a cursed fate? You must be hoping that I'd somehow share your dilemma."
"Verēna!" Miran chided which she only dismissed with a nonchalant glance.
"Hmm . . . Point taken. Well, then, see you all tonight at the town's square!" He spun around, sashaying towards the front door, but came to an abrupt stop and without turning around. "Ah, I was taught that Seer's disciples are allowed to keep a part of themselves upon transition. Tell me," he looked over his shoulder, smiling innocently. "What's yours, Verēna?"
The side of her lips curled up. Alessio Magnus Romulus IV kept on surprising her. It was supposedly a sore subject, but it oddly didn't hit a nerve when he asked. Was it because he was still a boy? Nah. Verēna knew well it was because of the sheer sincerity he exuded. He lacked malice the way he associated. Loathing his predecessor through him would be a feat.
Maybe being a Priestess for this young Minister wasn't entirely a bad idea after all.
"I'm afraid we haven't reached the level of familiarity where I can share it over a cup of tea, Your Excellence."
The young Minister heartily chuckled. "It won't be happening anytime soon, isn't it?"
Verēna grinned. "If the Fates permit."
"If the Fates permit," he parroted with a huge sheepish smile, then left. Miran followed suit after a while, leaving her on her own.
Or so she thought.
"Would you like a cup of tea, Lord Kaizo?"
Her eyes flickered to the cozy living room consisting of an L-shape plush olive green couch pushed against the wall and a low rattan table with a flower vase filled by lavender and baby's breath. Across him was a single cushion seat.
Lord Kaizo's gaze was trained on the nude carpeted floor, arms crossed on his chest, as if he was ruminating about something rather than refusing to look her way.
"Lord Kaizo?"
The elder Romulus' gaze flitted over hers, face bared with any expression. "Why?"
Verēna arched an eyebrow. "Why not? You're in my house. Hospitality is expected of me as a host, don't you agree?"
Apparently, it wasn't the answer he was looking for. "You're not very good at concealing your contempt, are you?"
"Were you insinuating me as pretentious?"
"Must you answer me with another question?"
"Do you want me to be blunt?"
"Do you even know how to handle a proper conversation?"
"Again, do you want me to be blunt?"
Kaizo's lips thinned. Their conversation won't lead to anything sensible if he'd go on with it. Apparently, the Priestess seemed to know this as well.
With an eerie curling of the side of her lips, she said, "Coffee it is, then."
Few minutes later, a steaming cup of freshly roasted and brewed black coffee was placed on the rattan table before him. The scent was heavenly and even so his first taste of it. Without intent, a sigh of satisfaction slipped past his lips. Gods, he could drink it for the rest of his life!
"Well, I'll take that as a compliment, then," the Priestess commented out of nowhere.
Only then did he realize that she was already lounging on the single plush seat across him; legs crossed and hands on her lap. Her face still impassive yet her eyes screamed something else. Amusement? He was just seeing things, wasn't he?
Kaizo cleared his throat. "You make an excellent coffee, Priestess. Thank you."
She hummed in acknowledgement, eyes still not straying from him. "I hope it's enough for you to tell me why the Minister appointed you as my babysitter, though."
Grateful that he'd already set down his cup of coffee, Kaizo dauntlessly met her deadpan gazes, and deliberately ignored what she called him with. It'd only make their conversation long. "You're not upset?"
"Should I?"
Kaizo pursed his lips. Growing up with his current stature, he was so used to getting answers to whatever he'd ask right away without dilly-dallying, but the Priestess just right out denied him of it, rendering him peeved. Her sister, Tauriel, would somehow do the same thing and get away with it, but when it came to her, he couldn't help himself but feel a bit irked. She must have known it as well, judging by the glint of amusement in her amber orbs.
"Magnus thinks the Elders would do something─"
"So he have you to trail me around," she interrupted to his annoyance.
Another thing he disliked: being cut short.
"Not for long, Priestess," he said through gritted teeth. Suddenly, the sumptuous cup of coffee before him no longer held any appeal.
"Why? Do you hate it?"
"Does it matter?"
The Priestess clucked her tongue. "Still mad about the incident upon our meeting, I see."
"A simple apology will suffice." Kaizo snorted, unable to hold his temper anymore.
He was usually not like this. He was always level-headed and lighthearted. He was usually the kind that would brush off things with a laughter and moved on. Yet conversing with her, another version of her, brought out the jerk in him. It was only then did he realize what he had said. Before he could muster an apology, hard and cold gaze pierced him thoroughly in the spot.
"Did I ask for one when your family unjustifiably persecuted mine?"