Chapter 8
March 20th - Grythen
Zaelem
“No! What the hell are you doing?” Zaelem grabbed her arm and twisted her around forcefully.
Kismette winced from the pain, but her gaze never left her best friend. “Evelynn…” she whispered.
“Kismette! Look at me now, you idiot!” he hissed and shoved her into a corner. “Are you crazy? You can’t just go up there and disrupt the whole performance. You’ll bring attention to yourself and get captured! Don’t you remember that anymore? And what did I say about not touching anybody on our way here? Absolutely no exceptions, isn’t it?” he yelled at her. It came out much fiercer than it was necessary, surprising himself too. Dammit, I need to cool down a little.
“I don’t want to go home anymore, Zaelem. Please, help me find Evelynn. It will be the only thing I’d ever ask from you again,” Kismette begged.
“What do you think I am, your bloody lamp genie? I said no, and we’re going back now. Someone is watching us,” he growled.
“Please, I really need to talk to her. I’m never going to bother you again. You don’t have to guide me back to Reensville tomorrow. Please help me this one last time. You’ll never have to talk to me anymore after this, please,” she repeated, her eyes glistening.
His jaw tightened. All it took for his resolve to crumble was her tears, just like the first time he saw her in the jungle. He scrubbed his forehead forcefully before saying hesitantly, “There,” he pointed to the photo booth, “Wait behind that after this performance ends.”
Mejaine
“Master Dragonoir would like to meet you privately, Evelynn,” the manager nodded in approval to the lean blonde girl, but her delicate features knitted into a frown, as though uncomfortable. “Well done,” he patted her on the shoulders, before adding in a low voice, “He has never asked for anyone before. Seize this chance well for he holds a high position in the army… Freshen up and meet him at the backdoor now.”
The girl nodded her head obediently.
Mejaine glared at the girl from her own dressing table, her eyes smouldering with jealousy. How dare that newcomer agree to meet him? And why on earth would Zaelem want to meet her in the first place? He isn’t that sort!
Mejaine stared ahead as though she could look past her reflection. Years of memories surged to her like molten lava, threatening to suffocate and bury her.
Scenes of them sneaking out for dates, going for a stroll around the park, stealing kisses on the infamous lovers’ bench played out in front of her eyes like a soundless movie. Memories of how that man she loved came knocking on her door every other day with freshly picked flowers, promising a future for them both.
She came from a poor family, and so did he; both of them were poor. Her greatest dream was to become the court’s best dancetress and bask in all the glory and fame that come with the money, while Zaelem, that apathetic fool, was so indifferent to… well, climbing greater heights. Yes, she had called him an apathetic fool, and had even snarled at him for being so naïve.
Mejaine slumped on the backrest of her chair. She did not see the Wesarsh that man could be. Oh how she wished she could take those words back. Even after a hundred years, she was still living in regret.
They had kept in contact, for the selfish and possessive person that she was made sure that she still had Zaelem on her beck and call. Sure, she could tell that he still feels for her, for he always came when she sent for him. Their meetings were always awkward and meaningless, with few words exchanging between them and Zaelem annoyingly avoiding any bodily contact with her.
She was attractive and she knew it. She was hotly pursued by men in and out of court, but she knew they only regarded her as a plaything and she despised them for their greed and lust. She may have loved money more than life itself, but that was in the past.
Now that wealth has little happiness left for her, she began to crave for tenderness and affection. I should have been the only woman he ever asks for…
Mejaine lifted her chin higher and closed her eyes to prevent tears from escaping her eyes. She had never been second to anyone. Until recently, she reminded herself silently, shooting a glare at the girl brushing her silver hair a few chairs away.
Previous: Chapter 7
Next: Chapter 9