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In the morning, I was back to my usual Arrowspear clothing: an open vest over a tunic. It was more comfortable this way. I only had one little bag to carry and my usual weapons. Emir and I needed to set off as early as possible.
I bid my goodbyes to King Adrian and Queen Soraya. Then, somehow, my eyes sought Luella. I told myself it was only proper to say goodbye to my bride-to-be. Let them not talk about how the Arrowspear savages had no manners.
She was seated with her back to me, talking to her lady-in-waiting, Francilia. Her red hair was not in a bun that day. It was loose, falling right up to her waist. I wanted to touch it and let my fingers go through the strands for some reason. They were curly and wild but soft.
It was ridiculous, of course.
I strode towards where she was seated. I did not expect her to turn around at any time. I needed to leave while the heat was not yet stifling.
“Luella?”
She turned. Slowly.
“Yes?” she asked, all innocent with her brows raised.
“I apologize for yesterday. You did not do anything wrong,” I said through gritted teeth. I did not know why I still felt like she had done something wrong. I reminded myself that Luella had appropriately behaved and had not been as silly as I thought.
Her lips had formed a tight line. I knew I had displeased her, but she looked to her right as if checking whether her mother was watching her. The warm feeling down my back suggested that Queen Soraya was there, observing our interaction.
“Apology accepted, Metheus. I am genuinely grateful for the gems. I k-know that you have refused my dowry. I do not know how else I can repay you for your help. I know you are capable of healing the land. It has been a day, and you have already made some strides. You can make me seem less dangerous, too. But what about me to you? What can I give you?”
I looked at her intently. Her green eyes were more brilliant than the emeralds I gave her. Her lips were glossed but naturally pink. Any other man would tell her that she was enough of a gift to him, but I could not bring myself to say the words.
It was not my way to praise women with words about their beauty. However, I knew how to recognize it. I knew Cora was a beautiful woman, robust and healthily browned by the sun. According to my father, she would have given me several babies, and marriage would not have even been necessary. He was not opposed to me marrying an ordinary village girl, either. He merely wanted me to marry.
My father was probably relieved that I had said no all those times. For him, marrying a princess from Mogochislenia was enough. He wanted people to know who we were – that we were not the savages we were known as in continents such as Mogochislenia. He wanted us to be known as saviors.
“You are giving me something, Luella,” I said honestly. “By my marriage to you, people will discover that we, the people of Prozeus, are not savages. You need us, and we are here.”
She looked at me, a slight frown on her face. She did not seem too happy with my answer. In fact, she was disappointed. Why? I did not know. What else would she want me to tell her? Did she want me to say, “Luella, I am happy to be married to a beautiful woman like you”?
Again, of all people, she should know that we did not need to please each other that way. I could be a beast, and she had no choice but to marry me. She could have warts all over her face, and I would still marry her. Her beauty, which she valued so much, did not factor here. At all.
She must have read what I was thinking because her face had become openly hostile.
“Well, when will you be back here?”
“I will not take long, my bride,” I could not help it. My voice had become sardonic. “I should be back here in less than two weeks.”
Luella stood up from the bench, hitting one arm by the trestle table. However, she was tough, not even flinching at the pain. She did it with some anger that she launched herself too close to me. The top of her head reached my chin, but she looked up, anyway, just to glare at me. We were too close, and it made me a little uncomfortable.
Had I ever felt this kind of discomfort with Cora? Not really. It was just annoyance, and I expected to feel the same way with this vain princess. Still, I was not losing this game. I would not back down.
“Are you afraid of me, Metheus?” she asked.
If anyone looked at us, not knowing what she could do, they would find her words outrageous.
“I am not afraid of you,” I said.
I did not know what game she was playing, but was she trying to kill me? Was she trying to snare me into being physical with her just for her to burn me? Because if she were, she would be disappointed. A fire witch would not be able to kill a fire stealer.
