26

She wondered what this woman was, what she wanted from her and what she would get from her. She did say that she had all the answers to her question, right? Then so be it, she would see if she would get something meaningful from her. Keres shifted on the stone and lifted her face up at her, showing her that she should sit down but instead of her to do that, black smoke enveloped them and when the air was cleared, she saw that they were in front of a house.

Keres turned and looked at her then back at the door that stared at them, “Where are we? Why will you bring me here?”

Desdemona grinned, this was a specie, she realized. “This is my house, and what we’re going to talk about needs some privacy, that’s why I bring us here.” She moved past her and unlocked the door. She entered the house before she turned to look at a clueless Keres, whom by looking into her eyes, Desdemona knew she was contemplating whether to trust her or not. “Don’t worry, you can trust me. I'm a Durush, and I expect you to know what our names mean to us, but I told you mine, didn’t I?” Something changed in Keres’s eyes, as though she had realized whom she was dealing with. “Come in if you want, but if you’re still doubting me, I believe you can take yourself back to where I saw you.”

She sighed, finally relenting and when she entered the house, she was amused. How could it look the way it did from the outer layer and looked as exactly as a cave did in the inside? Who was this woman? Like she knew how Durush’s could be, how powerful they were, but this was something she had never imagined. She heard the enigmatic chuckle of Desdemona, “Why do you guys always have to be surprised at the way my house is? This is how I used to live, and I can’t live not like this.”

Keres found a spot on the stones in the cave and sat down, “We guys? Someone has been here?” She shrugged her shoulders before Desdemona answered her, “Like I know this is your house and everyone has the right to come here so long as you invite him, but...” She let her words trailed off, not knowing the way she would voice it out. But the way it sounded from Desdemona’s lips, it seemed linked to hers.

Desdemona appeared from the kitchen holding a tea bottle and two cups, and when Keres stared up at her, she was left mouth agape. This wasn't the old woman they had came together with, she was an older woman, surely, but not as old. What more did she hide from her appearance? “Have some tea, conversations like this flow freely with a cup of tea.” Desdemona chuckled and poured some tea into Keres’s cup, knowing so well why she seemed so surprised.

She didn’t reject the tea, she took a gulp before she placed it down and cleared her throat, she didn’t have time to be beating around the bush. She came to Elara for a reason, followed this mysterious woman for another, and she wouldn’t stay just for a cup of tea and leave without any useful information. “So, what do you know about what I’m looking for.” She was aware of the fact that she hadn’t told her about whatever it was she was here for, she wanted to test her ability as a durush, and that made Desdemona smiled.

“You came here for Jaromir, looking for Verena. But her actual name isn’t Verena, her name is Aranya, and she’s the hidden daughter of Betla, the only princess left in the kingdom of Zinambra.” Keres didn’t know when she stood up and Desdemona giggled, “Why are you up already? Sit back, we have a lot to talk about.”

Keres slumped back, her father spoke to her about Zinambra. Everyone knew Zinambra and they all thought that Betla was dead after their pack had been raided. “What do you want? I'm sure you aren’t going to give me all this information for nothing, are you?”

Desdemona shook her head and sipped more of her tea, everything was getting into place, she was so much loving all this game. “Before I tell you everything, you have to promise me that you’ll get me to Belrynna.”

Belrynna, Keres didn’t know when she repeated the name on her lips. Whatever this woman wanted, she didn’t want a small deal and for that, she was going to take everything she would need from her and even more. No one spoke about Belrynna for nothing, something was up, something so huge.

•

Aranya sat on the chair and stared at her reflection through the mirror. It wasn’t long ago since when she found herself looked so beautiful when she wore the same attire she had worn at this time. What changed? She questioned herself and she had to stifle back her tears when she recalled that the only difference was that because this was Lorcán she was taking to the Mourtzur to, not some other men.

Her eyes gleamed through the mirror, she looked as beautiful as she used to be, even more. But her heart was so dark, she was in so much pain, she wanted to cry so bad until the whole of Zinambra shook. But she didn’t want to cry today, she didn’t want Betla to see her crying because that will only make her have the urge to kill Lorcán even more.

Betla turned her from where she stood behind her to face her, “The crown has never fit you but today, Aranya. Look, from today, if we have the last blood of power that we need, you’ll hold your head up high in front of everyone, you won’t be the hidden princess of Zinambra anymore. Everyone will know you, Princess Aranya.”

She lifted her face up to stare into her eyes and Aranya smiled softly, how she wished she was getting married to Lorcán and Betla was this excited, “Mother,” she called out, and she was aware that even the walls of her room had echoed because of the weight of the word she had referred to Betla as. She had never for once called her mother, she called her Betla which was her name.

Betla’s eyes dilated and when she stared back into Aranya’s eyes again, she had a dreamy look in her eyes, “You called me Mother?” She couldn’t believe her ears, she had to ask even though she knew it’s the most coldest thing a mother had to ever tell her daughter.

Aranya nodded her head and slowly wrapped her hands around Betla and hugged her, she had been wanting to do this. She had wanted a mother’s closure, a mother’s love, a mother’s warmth. She placed her head on her shoulder and closed her eyes, making way for her tears, “I want him to live, Betla. Please let him live, I beg of you. I promise to find you the strongest of elves, but not Lorcán.” She didn’t know how she ended up crying knowing so well that seeing tears on her cheeks will only make Betla furious.

Betla broke their hug and she stared at her face, “You’re crying because of him, Aranya?” She asked, not being able to believe her eyes. “Are you begging me to let him live?” Aranya couldn’t answer her, for she could feel her fire already burning the flesh on which Betla had placed her hands on. Betla sighed and Aranya had to pull away from her hold because of how scorching it pained her skin, “Do you love him, Aranya?”

Aranya quickly shook her head, because she knew answering that with a yes would only worsen the situation. “I don’t love him, I just want him to live, Betla.” She cleared her tears, knowing so well seeing tears on her face riled Betla even more.

Without a word, Betla walked out of the room and she heard the echo of her words later, “I’ll be waiting for the two of you in the Mourtzur.” She slumped back on the stool she was seated on and broke into tears, realizing she didn’t have the answer to what Betla had asked of her. ‘Do you love him, Aranyaa?’ She didn’t know if she did or not.

Did she love him? She didn’t know whether she did that or not. She wanted to know, for she knew what she was feeling for him could only be felt for someone that you love. Isn’t this the way those in love acted? Felt and behaved?

The door was opened and when she lifted her crying eyes, she saw Lorcán in the exact same dress Jaromir had worn and it felt like a deja vu. Seeing the angry look he had on his face, she quickly cleared her tears because she knew he was angry at her because of her tears. She tried to smile at him and it came out as a lopsided smile. “Lorcán,” she whispered, and he walked over to her.

He lifted her up and used his thumbs to clear up the rest of tears she had on her face, “I told you not to cry over me again, didn’t I? I wouldn’t love it to be watching over you from heaven and find out that you’re in pain, Aranya.” She was only staring at his face as he spoke even though his words had pained her heart. “Betla told me to come to you.”

She immediately lifted her eyes up, “She did? What else did she tell you?”

He smiled, “She knew that I know I'm going to die, she wants us to have the best end moment. Why don’t we make a better use of it, what do you say?” He seemed excited, as though they were getting married and he couldn't wait to call her his wife.

“I'm scared,” her tears came back, and he shook her head to show her that she shouldn’t let them cascade down her cheeks.

“This isn’t the Aranya I know, is it? The Aranya I knew was a fierce woman filled with fire. Where has all the fire gone? Bring back my woman, I want to kiss that woman and be burnt slightly by her fire.” She had to chuckle, and before that sadness was back on her face, he quickly sealed their lips and she giggled before she kissed him back.

They kissed for a moment and she held onto him closely, wishing she could hold onto him for the rest of her life. He broke their lips and rested his forehead on hers, “I love you, Aranya.” She immediately jerked up to meet his eyes and he smiled at her, “Betla asked me whether I love you, and I hadn’t realized how important it is to tell you that I do that until now. So, Aranya, I love you.” She palmed her face to stop her tears from bursting out of her eyes, “I love you so much.”

“Lorcán,” her lips trembled as her tears spilled out of her eyes sockets. “Let’s run away.” She silently begged and he shook his head with a smile.

He entwined their hands and smiled at her before he wiped her tears, “I love you, Aranya, and that’s why I can’t risk your life. Let’s go to the Mourtzur, we can’t keep her waiting.” Without a word, for she didn’t have the strength in her to argue with him, she watched as he guided her out of the room and they descended the long stairs in silence.

She felt that with each step she had taken, her heart broke and it weighted even more. All she could hear through the vacant walls of her heart was his voice when he said, ‘I love you, Aranya.’ And the smile on his lips, the love she had seen on his face, the warmth his body exuded, everything. She stopped in track and he turned to look at her with a smile, “Not again, Aranya.”