Taking her to the garden, Ares' eyes squinted at the large white blossom tree at the heart of the garden.
It had been a long time since he set foot in this place...
Releasing a heavy breath, he walked slowly to the bench beneath the tree and carefully guided Eleanor to sit down. Standing before her, he looked down as she lowered her head, her hand pressed against her chest in an attempt to calm her racing heart.
She really struggled with crowds. Among people. Isolation could have such a negative impact on someone, especially when she was so vulnerable.
He removed his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling it snugly around her petite frame. Squatting down, he looked up at her tense face and asked softly, "How can I calm you down, Little Bird?"
But Eleanor's glare cut him off, her words sharp. "Do not speak to me."
Ares' lips formed a tight line. He nodded slowly.
Eleanor scoffed, her gaze drifting up to the tree branches, her foot scraping against the snowy ground. "Are you certain about this? I am not sure I can..."
"Do not complete that sentence." Ares interrupted, his voice icy and detached.
Eleanor's gaze snapped back to his, her blue eyes narrowing into slits. "Because I have no choice? I'm already aware of that. You don't need to keep reminding me."
Ares remained silent, his actions speaking louder than words. He placed his hand on the bench beside her, his arms forming a gentle cage around her. "Don't you want your freedom?"
Eleanor's lips curled into a slight smile, her tense demeanor easing now that she was alone with him. Her heart rate slowed, her mind clearing, and her focus sharpened, fixed entirely on him.
Those piercing silver eyes, filled with warmth, and his chiseled, handsome face were almost too captivating to gaze upon... a daring mix of masculinity and danger.
"There is no such thing as freedom with you," Eleanor said, her voice heavy with surrender. She had never known freedom, trapped since birth now she was trapped with him.
It was clear he was mentioning the word freedom with the attempt to calm her down.
"You will live a quiet, happy life as my queen," Ares promised, his voice low and reassuring.
Eleanor stared at him, her skin tingling at the gentle assurance in his voice and words. She sighed, frustrated with her own vulnerability, her own foolishness. Her eyes dropped to the ring on her finger, an endless reminder of her binding commitment.
There was no turning back now.... Not since she put on this ring.
No....
The moment he first carried her in his arms, there was no turning back....
Her curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Why am I your betrothed? No one ever spoke about you to me, except my grandmother, and her words were always jumbled with parables and I..."
"Our betrothal was a means to end the war between our kinds. Nothing more." Ares interrupted, his face and voice cold and detached.
A deep frown came upon Eleanor's face, her eyes clouded with rage and she instantly landed a harsh slap on his cheek, the sound echoing through the air.
Ares' eyes widened in shock, locking onto hers, which were now brimming with tears.
"Then why?!" Eleanor's voice rose to a scream. "If our betrothal ended the war, why did your kind betray the agreement and slaughter mine?! Why did my parents have to die?! Why was I left alone?! Why did everything have to end like this?!"
Ares' eyes drooped, his gaze falling away as he struggled to find words. "I..."
The slap still stung, both his cheek and his pride. But it was the crushing guilt that overwhelmed him, rendering him speechless. He couldn't bring himself to reveal the truth... that their betrothal had been orchestrated before her birth, a fate she'd been bound to since infancy. He dared not speak of it, fearing she'd flee in terror or worse, take her own life to escape him.
Slowly, he rose to his feet. "We must return to the ballroom," He pulled out a white handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. "Wipe away your tears and find the strength to face the night ahead."
Eleanor looked at his outstretched hand. The handkerchief. He had evaded her questions, leaving her with more uncertainty and no choice but to accept her fate. Her rights, it seemed, didn't include why she had to lose everything and why no one ever mentioned him to her.
Her fingers closed around the handkerchief, her eyes boring into his. His eyes were empty, devoid of emotion. His eyes were dead, no sign of light or spark, leaving only warmth.
And she couldn't help wondering how long will that warmth stay? When will that day come? The day when she will end up like parents... Dead in the most gruesome way....
She rose up, wiped away her tears, and returned the handkerchief to him, her movements gentle.
Ares observed her intently, taking in every detail. He noted how she collected herself, her eyes flashing with fear and realization.
She was terrified.... and he could sense it.
He pocketed the handkerchief, his movements slow, and then removed his cloak around her shoulders, draping it on his broad ones. Gently, he adjusted her cloak, ensuring it was properly in place.
Eleanor avoided Ares' gaze, and they returned to the ballroom, finding the celebration nearing its end.
A group of children surrounded a table, eagerly gathered around a lavish cake. At the center, a little girl with dark hair and piercing red eyes shone brightly, her royal demeanor unmistakable.
She was the birthday girl, and her gaze locked onto the couple as if sensing their presence. Her eyes widened, and a radiant smile spread across her face, brightening the space around her.
But the little girl didn't approach them, and soon the ball came to a close.
Guests departed the castle, returning to their respective homes. Ares and Eleanor remained in the ballroom, lingering by the food table where Eleanor served herself a plate.
Ares simply watched her like she was an entertainment he couldn't bear to miss. He ignored his family, who were gathered around their thrones on the dais, their attempts to engage him seemingly invisible to his eyes.
The Mazitzis. The chess pieces, always in motion, awaiting their fate. To be destroyed by him.