Ferre!
The word echoed in Elian's mind, carrying with it a weight that he could barely comprehend. Ferres were rare, their existence shrouded in mystery and fascination.
Men who possessed the extraordinary ability to bear children, a trait that set them apart from the rest of society. Physically male, yet with subtle differences, a slightly more delicate and feminine build, a softer, more graceful form. An androgynous beauty that drew attention and curiosity.
Elian's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to process this new information. He was a Ferre. He had the ability to bear children, a trait that made him both precious and dangerous.
Ferres were revered in Arcanoria, their value immeasurable. But here was the kicker, his family didn't even know. Only Mira had been aware of this fact, a secret she had kept close to her heart, perhaps to protect him from the world that would seek to exploit him.
The memories continued to trickle in, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. He remembered the long nights spent in the servant's quarters, the way he had longed for acceptance, for love, for something more than the cold indifference that had been his constant companion.
He remembered the way his step-siblings had sneered at him, the way they had treated him like dirt, like he was less than nothing. And he remembered the way Mira had been there for him, a small light in the darkness, her gentle hands wiping away his tears, her soft voice soothing his fears.
He remembered how everything changed one day.
But it wasn't the kind of change Elian had hoped for.
The day began as any other in the Duke's household, but it wouldn't end that way.
Elian rose before dawn, his body moving through the motions of chores with a practiced, mechanical efficiency.
He scrubbed floors, polished silver, and dusted grand portraits that lined the cold, imposing halls of the manor. The house was quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves outside his small, drafty window. Despite the routine, there was an undercurrent of unease in the air, something that prickled at the edges of Elian's awareness.
He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to him as he went about his tasks. It was as if the very walls of the estate were closing in on him, their shadows stretching longer, darker than before.
By mid-morning, a summons came for Elian. Isla and her betrothed, Lord Cedric, had requested tea in the east wing sitting room. His heart sank at the thought of serving them, knowing well the disdain Isla harbored for him. Yet, there was no option but to obey.
As he prepared the tea tray, arranging the delicate porcelain cups with steady hands, Elian couldn't shake the sense of foreboding. The soft clink of the teapot against the tray echoed loudly in the silent kitchen, a sound that seemed to reverberate through his bones. His fingers trembled as he lifted the tray, and he took a moment to compose himself before heading to the sitting room.
When Elian pushed open the heavy oak door, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Isla's gaze snapped to him, her sharp eyes raking over his figure with thinly veiled contempt. She sat on a velvet-cushioned chaise, her posture perfect, her lips twisted into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Beside her, Lord Cedric lounged with the ease of a man who knew his power. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell in waves around his chiseled face, he exuded an air of cold command. His green eyes, so similar to Elian's own, fixed on him with an intensity that made Elian's skin crawl.
Elian kept his head down, focusing on the floral pattern etched into the teacups as he approached. He could feel Cedric's gaze lingering on him, hot and invasive, sending a chill down his spine. He fought to keep his hands steady as he poured the tea, but the weight of that stare made his breath hitch in his throat.
"Thank you, Elian," Isla said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "You've always been so… attentive."
Elian nodded, his heart pounding as he placed the cup in front of her. He dared not look up, but he could still feel Cedric's eyes on him, burning through his composure. The scrutiny was suffocating, oppressive in a way that made him want to flee the room, to escape from the intensity of it all.
But there was no escape. Not from this.
As he turned to pour Cedric's tea, Elian dared to glance up, just for a moment. The look in Cedric's eyes was unmistakable, lecherous, predatory. Elian's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly averted his gaze, a flush creeping up his neck. He felt Isla's eyes on him as well, felt the fury simmering beneath her poised exterior.
Isla noticed. Of course she did. Her smile widened, and she leaned slightly toward Cedric, resting her hand possessively on his arm. But Cedric's attention remained fixed on Elian, his gaze trailing over him with a disturbing intensity that made Elian's stomach churn. Isla's eyes darkened, her fingers digging into Cedric's arm, but he didn't seem to notice.
"Is there something on your mind, my lord?" Isla's tone was light, but there was a sharp edge to it that made Elian's pulse quicken.
Cedric didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, his gaze still locked on Elian. "Your servant is quite… striking," he said, his voice low and smooth, but with an undercurrent that made Elian's blood run cold.
Isla's smile faltered for just a fraction of a second, but Elian saw it. Her grip on Cedric's arm tightened further, and for a moment, he thought he saw something dangerous flash in her eyes. "He's just a servant," she said, her voice tight, the words clipped. "A bastard."
Elian felt the sting of those words, but he kept his expression neutral, his gaze still lowered. He had long since grown accustomed to the barbs, to the insults that were casually thrown his way. But this was different. The way Cedric looked at him, the way Isla's anger simmered just beneath the surface, it set his nerves on edge.
Cedric finally looked away from Elian, turning his attention back to Isla. "Indeed," he said dismissively, though Elian could still feel the lingering weight of his gaze. "But even a bastard can be pleasing to the eye."
Isla's eyes narrowed, her hand slipping from Cedric's arm to her lap, where she clenched her fists. "Perhaps you should remember where your loyalties lie, Cedric," she said, her voice icy.
Cedric chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down Elian's spine. "Of course, my dear," he said, leaning in to press a kiss to Isla's cheek. But there was a mockery in his tone that was impossible to miss, and Elian could see Isla's jaw tighten.
"Thank you, Elian," Isla said abruptly, her voice sharp. "You may go."
Elian nodded and quickly retreated from the room, but as he left, he could still feel Cedric's eyes on him, a burning sensation that lingered long after he'd closed the door behind him. He fled to the kitchens, his heart racing, his breath coming in shallow gasps. What had just happened? What was that look Cedric had given him? And why did Isla's fury seem so directed, so intense?
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur of anxiety and confusion. Elian tried to focus on his duties, but his mind kept drifting back to that moment in the sitting room, to the predatory look in Cedric's eyes and the barely-contained rage in Isla's. He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was brewing, something that would change everything.
Night fell, and with it came a sense of dread that Elian couldn't shake. He lay in his small, cold bed, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts racing. Cedric's gaze had been more than unsettling, it had been a warning, a promise of something dark and twisted. And Isla… Isla's jealousy was a palpable thing, a force that had always loomed over Elian like a shadow. But this time, it felt different. More dangerous
---
Elian's heart pounded as he sat up in bed, the shadows of the room pressing in on him. He could feel it, something was wrong. Very wrong.
And then, he heard it.
A soft creak outside his door.
His breath hitched, his blood turning to ice. He held his breath, straining to hear over the pounding of his heart.
The door to his room slowly began to open.