Phases

CHAPTER ONE

Her green eyes spit fire as they clashed against his shimmering silver orbs.

“It need not be this way,” his voice was smooth with an even tone.

She raised her chin defiantly; eyes never leaving his. He could have her whipped for that alone. Yet it was not his way. He sought to end centuries of violence and feuding. However, the mere minutes the woman had been in his presence were already proving to be more of a struggle than what even he had planned.

“I suppose I am to be honored for this lifetime of servitude?” she questioned, “Fall at your feet and thank the gods for your mercy way you wish it to be, my lord?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he allowed a deep sigh to escape plump lips. Her sharp tongue could leave one bleeding out onto the floor. To think he willingly brought her here. Sought her out, even.

“If you would but listen,” he tried again, “I see no reason that you and I should follow the same path as that of our ancestors,” he spoke quickly so that she could not interrupt him once more. “There must be a way that we can work this out together without the violence of the past,” he almost plead.

“Your kind knows only death and pain,” she spit on the floor in front of him.

In the blink of an eye, she was kneeling on the stone floor, his guard’s hand around the back of her neck, as he forced her head down. Her eyes lifted to his once more with a smirk that said, “I told you so.”

“You will not speak to my lord in such a manner,” the guard sneered. He was not only the lord’s personal guard, but his friend as well and he’d be damned if he would allow this harpy to disrespect him in any way.

“Remove your hands at once,” the lord’s silvery eyes flashed with his command.

The guard immediately released her and took a step back. The woman remained on her knees, contempt radiating from her in waves. The lord slowly stepped towards her and held out his hand. Her green eyes flashed once more as she eyed his proffered hand. What trick was this?

“I mean you no harm,” his voice was warm and kind. No hint of malice or deception showed on his face as he leaned forward, hand still held out. She eyed him warily as he enveloped her small hand into the warmth of his own and slowly pulled her to her feet.

She dusted her skirts off as she stood and shot a derisive look towards the guard. The young lord at her side couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips. If nothing else, he admired her fire. His smile soon faded as he realized she would soon be scorching him with her flames once more.

“Our peoples have been at odds for far too long,” he told her as he guided her forward. She resisted briefly until the heavy wooden table laden with food came into view. She arched a russet-colored brow questioningly at him.

“Perhaps we can discuss things more civilly with our bellies full, hm?” his smile was charming as he pulled a chair out for her. She never took her eyes off him as she cautiously sat, hands flat on the table surface. Her back was rigid, shoulders tensed, and chin still defiantly raised. Royalty is what her demeanor suggested, despite her simple clothing and background. Here he was the one with the fancy pedigree traced back for hundreds of years, yet he felt like a peasant in her presence. This certainly was not going as he had hoped.

“Please, help yourself,” he instructed, offering her a platter of different cheeses. She eyed the platter for a moment before turning her head away. A soft sigh escaped his lips. “Marianna, please. We must begin somewhere."

Her head whipped around at the use of her given name. “Even in the villages, my lord, we do not speak so casually to strangers.”

“My humblest apologies, Miss Averndale. I beg your forgiveness for my indiscretion. I hope that you will forgive me,” he muttered through gritted teeth. The woman would try the patience of the gods themselves.

Marianna stared at him for a moment before taking the platter of cheese from his still awaiting hand. Green eyes never leaving his face, she delicately sniffed the plate, skepticism coloring her features.

“Should I fear retribution in the form of poison, Lord Park?” she questioned wryly.

“That would hardly be beneficial to my cause, now, would it?” he matched her tone, as he tossed a grape into his mouth. He was finding it more and more difficult to hold onto his charm when met with her fractious attitude.

“Ah, yes. The cause. Always the cause,” she sighed, “Our whole lives revolve around it and you. Don’t they?”

Lord Park plopped a bunch of grapes onto her plate and took back the platter of cheese. “What if it did not have to be so?” he pondered aloud, eyes staring off into nothing.

Marianna scoffed before nibbling the corner of a cube of cheese. He turned to her; brows raised. “Do you think I jest?”

“I think you dream," she retorted, “We are bound, you and me. Master and servant for all of time. Or until death,” her expression darkened as she dropped the cheese back onto her plate.

His brow furrowed as he leaned closer to her, “Says who?”

“History,” was her response. She shifted away from him and toyed with the grapes he had placed on her plate. “Hundreds and hundreds of years of history. A bond that cannot be broken. A curse that cannot be lifted.”

He rolled another grape between his ringed fingers. “Have any tried?”

She folded her arms across her chest and sat back in her chair, contemplating. He waited patiently for her response.

“Surely someone did. How could they not?” her tone was incredulous, “They would be fools to remain content with this...this...well, all of it, to be quite honest.”

“What makes you so sure?” he fired back.

She turned her face away from him. Again, he waited for her to mull it all out.

” Noone could ever be content with this life,” she replied softly, “not even your kind.”

He inhaled sharply at her jab, seething. She was holding him accountable for things his ancestors had done. Judging him by a past he had not been apart of.

“Why do you do that?” he hissed, “Why must you be so insufferable every moment?”

“If I am ‘insufferable’ it is only because of the barbarity of your own people against mine for centuries," she hurled her words at him as she stood and slapped her palms against the table.

“It is that barbarity that I’m attempting to atone for!” he bellowed, all sense of charm and grace fleeing his form as he, too, rose to his feet, “Gods, woman! What will it take for me to get through to you! I am trying for peace between our peoples! Peace between us!” Lord Park flung his arms up in exasperation. “I wish to avoid the cruelty of my grandfather and all who came before him!”

“And you felt that having your guards steal me from my village in the dead of night was the way to go about it?” she screamed into his face, “I am not your property to do with as you please! You are not my lord!”

Lord Park abruptly turned from her; his shaking fists clenched at his sides. He walked quickly to the window, throwing the shutters wide open. Taking a deep lungful of air, he attempted to calm the storm that had begun raging within him. They were getting nowhere like this. He must find a way to get through to her. He could not face this alone. He was too young in the change. Too out of control. The first full moon was almost upon them, and he was in no way prepared. Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he turned to her once more. Marianna remained as she was, eyes brimming with hate and burning a hole to his very center.

“You hate me,” he muttered, “We’ve never met before this day. Yet you hate me with every fiber of your being. Am I to forever pay for the crimes of my ancestors?”

She said nothing. Not a muscle in her face twitched as she stared him down, irreverent of his status, unafraid of what he could do to her.

“Marianna,” he implored, “Marianna...I am sorry for taking you in the way that I did. I sent personal messengers begging you to meet with me.”

A muscle in her jaw twitched at that and he plowed ahead, “I wanted to go about this so differently than any before us had done. I want us to be the change. Can you not see that? Can you not feel my sincerity?”

Marianna let out a slow, deep breath and rubbed at her temples. Gathering her skirts, she took to her seat once more. “It’s a fool’s errand that you would set us out on,” she told him wearily, “and I fear that I’ll be the one to pay the price for our folly.”

Slowly, he took steps towards her. “I will not allow it.”

She laughed humorlessly, “No, the lykos wouldn’t allow it. It cannot live without me.”

His silver eyes flash as if she had called to the beast directly. “Then why are you afraid?”