Bloods of Power

She looked up to the sky and the ends of her lips lifted into a half-smile. It was dark, so dark that she could barely see the sharp edges of her mother’s face, apart from the blazing fire of her eyes. The moon was birthed shortly today, and it was always on days like this that she had to leave. She pulled her eyes away from the sky and turned her attention back to her mother, who was staring at her with eyes a shade of blood and fire.

“You’ve never made a mistake, Aranya, and I don’t expect you to make one now, okay?” She spoke with a tone that would have sent a shiver down the spine of whoever was listening to her, but Aranya didn’t seem phased. After all, this was the voice she had grown up with.

“I promise you, Betla.” She nodded her head. Why would she always tell her not to make a mistake? She had never made a mistake, had she? She moved a few steps away and stared directly into her mother’s blazing eyes. “I’ll take my leave now.” She didn’t wait for a response from her mother, because none had ever come. She was aware of her mother’s eyes roaming around her back as she walked around the shrubs and green grasses.

Aranya always felt free at the birth of the month because that was when she could move away from this castle, far away from Zinambra, and Betla always patiently waited for her to carry out her duty. After a few minutes of walking in the dark forest, she felt bored. She needed to make this journey lively. She howled, and the pitch of her voice echoed through the mountains echoed. She was sure Betla would know, but she didn’t mind anymore.

She broke into a sprint and ran as much as she could, giggling and laughing, wondering who it would be this time. What kind of man would fall into her trap this time? What kind of man would drool over the beauty of Aranya? She giggled and her eyes twitched with mischief. It had always been fun, and she knew it would be fun this time too.

Walking into the forest that would lead her to Elara, she noticed that the sky was even been darker there and wondered why. There was never a darker or scarier place than Zinambra. Shrugging her shoulders, she mused to herself, ‘Aranya, you can’t disappoint Betla.’ This had always been her mantra, and as she pushed through the trees, she set out to hunt for the most handsome man. At least, she would have these fifteen days to enjoy to the brim before she took whoever it was to Zinambra, the abandoned kingdom of Betla.

Walking through the silent houses, she wondered how long it would take for the sun to rise and to hunt again. What was the number this time? And how many had left? She had never kept count of the numbers. Betla had always done that. Aranya needed something to eat. She had been walking for the past hour in the dark forest, and she needed something to keep her strong. There were shops around, but they were all closed. She knew she had to break into one and that was what she did.

She ate to her fill before she moved around the empty dark streets, eager to meet whoever it was that would be destined for her this time. Mornings were never her thing, not even in Zinambra where she lived alone with Betla, and the only person to speak to was her mother, who solely found peace in her life. Waking up to the sounds of the people in the market, she hissed softly. She had never been to Elara before, and she had hated it already. Why were they so loud?

She blocked her eyes from the rays of sunlight and sat upright from where she had fallen asleep. She stood up, clasping her hands together as she smiled warmly to whoever her eyes fell upon. That had always worked. Not even a woman could ignore a smile from Aranya. She walked to the nearest shop.

“Good morning,” she greeted the shopkeeper with a smile. She was aware of the looks he was flashing her. He wasn’t around the age she wanted, otherwise she would have said he was the one.

“Good morning, how may I help you?” he asked, moving to where she was. She took a few steps back.

“Where can I find the river, please?” she asked, looking around the busy streets that were once so dark and empty and silent. She would have loved it more if it would always stay that silent.

“Follow this way, and you’ll see the fishermen walking to the river,” he told her, pointing to the path she had to follow. She nodded her head and smiled appreciatively at him.

“Thank you.” She walked off before he had the chance to say what she was sure he would have asked: her name. It had always been that way. She didn’t know why people always asked her name the first time they met her.

As he said, she met the fishermen on their way to the river, and she silently followed behind them until the river came into view. She grinned widely. She had always loved rivers. She moved over to a stone and sat down as she brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them. She had always had a sophisticated aura around her, but around a river, her aura was at its most pure and innocent form. While around water, she wasn’t Aranya, the daughter of Betla, the unmatched Queen of Zinambra. She was just Aranya, an innocent lady.

She stayed there until evening, when she was sure everyone had left for their houses and rushed to the river. She took off her gown in a rush. She had to take her bath. Releasing the loop of her hair, Aranya dipped her legs into the river before she was completely emerged in it. She took a huge breath when she felt herself completely in the river. This gave her joy. This was life.

She kept swimming around the river, only lifting her face whenever she felt out of breath. When she came up for air, she found a pair of eyes staring right into hers. She didn’t know when she screamed! “What are you doing here?!” she yelled, paddling away from those eyes.

Nothing had ever scared her in her life, but right now, those eyes did. She had never seen eyes so brown that she might call them maroon—no, the color of blood. Seeing that he hadn’t taken his eyes off her, she moved to the edge of the river until she was out. Aranya hadn’t realized that her top gown wasn’t on that side and there was no way she would walk around in her underdresses under the bloody eyes of this man.

She perched on the stone beside her and turned away from him, hugging her knees to her chest. She was a bit startled when she saw that he was handing her the gown she had thrown on the stone before she got into the river. She collected it and looked up to meet his eyes, but he had already turned his back to her to give her some time to get dressed.

Putting back her long hair behind her back, she glared at his back before she spoke. “Thank you.”

He turned to look at her. His eyes were fixed so firmly on her face that she wondered if she had something on her face.

“Aren’t you afraid of the river?” His voice was husky with a tone of power and something else that she couldn’t point out yet.

Her eyes involuntarily rolled themselves at him. Who did he think he was to be asking her this question? If she was afraid of the river, would she have paddled that deep to its stomach? Without answering him, she maneuvered beside him and walked away. But she hadn’t taken more than ten steps when she found him standing in front of her.

“What is your name?” he asked.

She hissed softly. If she wanted, she would have said this was the man she was waiting for. This would be her hunt for this month, but he was not her type. It was hard to even stay a few seconds around him because he irritated her. And his bossy attitude? It made her cringe. She tried to move away, but he held her wrist and when she looked at his hand, she realized he was hairy.

“Let go of me,” she said through gritted teeth, using her other hand to pull away the wet hair sticking to her face.

“Tell me your name,” he asked again. What? Did he feel that he was too powerful to be shunned by someone?

She flung her hand away from him, looked directly into his bloody eyes, and hissed before she walked away. He would have done this to many girls and got what he wanted, but certainly not Aranya.

He stared at her retreating back until she was out of his sight. He sighed and turned back to the river, but he noticed she had left her anklet. Maybe it slipped off? He ducked down and held it in his palms, not looking at it while he strode to catch up with her. Amidst the crowd of the market, he could still catch a glance of her long black hair and her red gown. He was just noticing that about her. He kept following behind her until he saw the shop she had entered, and he waited outside. He wasn’t sure if it was right to go into the shop and talk to her. She seemed to be a little more fiery than other girls he had encountered.

But why was he doing this, he wondered and shrugged his shoulders. He should be on his way now, not following some girl with a red gown around the town of Elara. He heard someone shouting from the shop and he casually walked in, as if he hadn’t been there for the past ten minutes. Entering the shop, he realized it was the woman who owned the shop was fighting the mysterious girl. He rushed over to the counter and without glancing her way, he questioned the woman.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, and she looked between him and the girl before she spoke.

“She has no money on her, and she dared to eat my food!” she thundered, and he watched as the girl furiously rolled her eyes at her, which nearly unnerved his soul. How could she have such eyes? They seemed to be an amalgamation of power, blood, and darkness. What was she? Who was she?

“I’ll pay for her.” He pulled out some coins from his pocket and handed them to the woman, and when he turned, the girl was nowhere to be found. He rushed out of the shop and onto the busy streets of the market. He caught a glimpse of a red gown with black gleaming hair.

He ran towards her and when he had reached her, he took a hold of her wrist and pulled her to a narrow corner that could hardly contain his hard figure, let alone hers as well. She looked up at him, breathing heavily out of shock. The place was so narrow that he had to place both his hands above her shoulders while she looked directly into his eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she spat, rolling her eyes at him, and for a second, he saw a flicker of what looked like blood or fire. But when she blinked, her natural eyes were back.

The narrow path was so dark that one might think the sun hadn’t graced the world with its light. But there was a dim light with which he could see her through. “Why did you leave?” Again, his husky voice did it. She clenched her eyes shut for a split second before she opened them again.

“What? Do you think just because you paid a few coins for me you’re entitled to me or what? Let me go.” Aranya had never hated doing something like she hated looking into his eyes, and it had been barely an hour since she had met him. But she had nothing else to look at but his face, and his eyes were the safest to look at.

He softly shook his head, and she noticed the ends of his lips moving up into a smile. Or rather, a smirk. She hissed softly and cursed him underneath her breath. “You’re not entitled to me, but you could at least thank me, right?” he said, fixing his eyes directly on hers.

“Whatever the hell your name is, let me go.” She spoke through gritted teeth and his eyes once again roamed hers. She hated the sensation. No man had ever done this to her without being dead the very next minute. She needn’t be told that this man was powerful, and for her to teach him a lesson she might need her powers, which Betla had locked up for the next fifteen days.

“Lorcán, that’s my name.” Lorcán, she said to herself. Looking at the edges of his face, she needn’t be told that his mother or father chose the best name for this man. It suited him.

She squeezed to get out of the barriers he had locked her in while trying to look past his burning eyes. “Whatever it is, let me go. I don’t have to thank you since I can’t remember asking you to pay for me.”

“If I wasn’t there, what would you have done?” he asked, moving one of his arms. She thought she could finally maneuver around him, but a few seconds later, Aranya knew she was mistaken. Lorcán had something else in mind.

“What would I have done? That’s also none of your business. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She tried to move away from him, out to the busy market when she felt his face right on her bosom, his lips grazing above her cleavage.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she thundered, moving furiously to get away but he was so strong that her movement didn’t seem to faze him.

He looked up a bit and she saw her anklet in his mouth before she spoke again. His face moved over her chest, and he slipped the anklet into one of her cups. The right one to be precise, right where her heart was thumping heavily. Who the hell was this man?! She furiously looked up at him and he spoke before she had the chance to.

“I know it’s an anklet, and I have to put it on your ankle, but this place is too narrow for me to bend down. You left it at the riverbank.” He finally moved his arms, and she was aware of the look in his eyes. He was still staring at her cleavage.

She slapped him so hard on his left cheek, and this time when she looked into his eyes, she wasn’t unnerved with the bloody color of his orbs. “Who do you think you are to do that to me? Don’t you dare. I’m not like any girl on this street.” I’m one hell of species, with blood mixed with race and power, she would have added, had she not promised Betla not to make a single mistake.

She walked away from the narrow path, knowing how he had held his cheek with his palm while furiously staring at her, but he didn’t move a limb. It was as if he had never expected her to slap him. No, it was evident he had never been slapped in his entire life. She hissed angrily. She wouldn't have just slapped him if she had come to Elara to have some fun, but she was here for a mission and she wouldn’t make a mistake.

She had noticed a guest inn on the street and went inside. Guest inns had always been where she found her prey. Maybe it would be the same for today, or maybe she would have to look around some more. She booked a room.

She pulled out her anklet from where he had put it and stared at it. She didn’t know why Betla gave her this anklet and made sure she never took it off. She didn’t know how it slipped off her ankle today. What was it used for, she wondered before she pinned it back. She dangled her leg softly and heard its jingle. She smiled.

She had no friends in Zinambra. There was no one to be friends with, but she really wanted some. Not wanting to be taken over by her emotions, she stood up and walked out of the room to have a walk around the inn. Maybe she might find her prey. There was a small garden as she walked deeper into the inn. As she walked past some men who must be royal from the way they were dressed, she stumbled and fell, which caught the guards’ attention.

“What are you doing here?! Get out of the way!” One of them flung her away with his leg and when she furiously looked up to and teach the guard a lesson, she felt warm arms lifting her. She looked up at him, and he seemed to be the one they were guarding. He smiled at her and helped her on her feet.

“I’m sorry for their rude behavior. My name is Jaromir, the second prince of Gantrick. A dragon prince.” He seemed amused by himself, proud even. And when he extended his hands to Aranya for a shake, she took it gladly. She had finally found her prey.

“My name is Verena. Verena Jager. Not a princess, but a fierce specie.” She grinned and softly squeezed his hand. For the next fifteen days, she would be Verena Jager.