Chapter 25:
A Taste of Him
A shifting pressure on my back nudges me awake. Trevus climbs out of the sleeping pouch, and we’re packed so tight that I feel every movement.
It’s morning. I rub my eyes and sit up. Trevus stands and stretches. Nepolis is only a day away. I’m running out of time.
I dig the waterskin out of the saddle bag. Even with my hands free of sleeves, the cork proves too tight. “Trevus.” I hold it up for him.
He twists off the cork, and I have my fill.
The Merk’s forest shrinks behind us as we walk. I’m moving faster today. Trudging through fields of long grass is much easier than the clingy cilcas.
Approaching the end of our journey draws my thoughts to my future. If my life is cut short at Nepolis, I want at least one person to remember me as more than my connection.
“I’ll be a tailor with my own store, like Tailor Jenia,” I say.
My statement puzzles Trevus. He waits for me to elaborate.
“When we were in Balin, you asked what I was to make of myself. I’m going to be a tailor.”
“That shall be a modest life,” he says.
Modest – I suppose it’s not grand enough? “You think I’m wasting my potential by ignoring my connection?”
“No, your choice is inductive of your desires. I myself have found that the greatest treasures on earth are not hidden behind a royal curtain but are the pleasures shared by all persons.”
It’s good to hear that at least one person understands.
I kick a small stone out ahead of me. “I’m afraid of failing. Everyone else had time to learn how life works while I was trapped in a tower.”
“Your assessment is not sound,” Trevus says. “I see the great deal learned from your time in captivity. You bore a dire fate that mighty men fear, yet your spirit is unharmed. The outside world shall not easily frighten you. You shall find prosperity.”
I stop. “Prosperity – do you really believe that?”
With a hand on my shoulder, he guides me to continue beside him. He points to the hole I sewed shut on his shirt. “As your first customer, I shall testify to the quality of your work.” He reveals a silver coin between his fingers, then he raises my hand and places it in my palm.
Looking down at the shiny disk, I can’t help but smile. Even if it wasn’t meant to be a sale of my service, it’s still the first time I’ve been paid for sewing. It’ll be the first of many.
“Trevus!” I call out to him. He’s at the top of a hill, and I’ve fallen behind. It got dark an hour ago, and we’re still walking. My thighs are burning, and they’re on the edge of refusing to hold me up.
He looks back at me.
“Isn’t it time to rest?” I ask. My hands are on my knees.
“After a full meal, we shall rest in beds tonight,” he says.
A meal? Beds? I stare up at him, my mouth open as I catch my breath.
“Come and see.” He gestures to the other side of the hill.
The thought of a warm meal and a soft bed motivates my legs to push a little further. I make it to the spot beside him and latch onto his shirt before I collapse.
The sight ahead makes me gasp. There’s a massive city. Its wooden walls stretch higher than Antiock’s, and the whole settlement glows with torchlight. My eyes scan the horizon – there’s no accompanying castle. This isn’t Nepolis.
“Behold, Sisarea of Mephia,” Trevus says.
“My favorite thing about it is that it’s downhill.” I step ahead of him, taking wide strides on my way down.
Trevus chuckles and follows. My pace slows upon nearing the two guards at the gate, waiting for Trevus to take the lead. He should speak to them, as at this point, I’d just babble incoherent phrases about a bed.
The Mephian guards appear nothing like Versillia’s. Instead of the black and gray uniforms with high collars that I’m used to seeing, these soldiers are dressed in thick leather vests and are covered in straps and buckles. They sport long unkempt beards that would never be allowed in Antiock.
“State your intentions, Versillians,” one of the guard’s grunts.
Versillians
. They consider me a Versillian. I look over myself. I’m still wearing a black oban – the uniform of the Palace Guard.
“We do not travel under orders,” Trevus says.
“Very well. Under the Troas truce, we welcome you both as civilians.” They step aside, granting us passage through.
Trevus and I pass between the two large men. They’re not as tall as Trevus, but I count seven soldiers within line of sight. These are Mephians, like me. If I called out to them for help, would they free me from Trevus?
They don’t know my face. I’m not from Sisarea, and why believe a girl dressed in an oban who can’t even describe which village she belongs to? If by some fortune they opposed Trevus, he’d fight to take me back. A guard could die. Trevus could die. I could end up confined in Sisarea. First, I need to slip away from Trevus, then perhaps the guards would offer sanctuary after speaking in private. We continue past them without a word.
In contrast to Antiock with its central city street, Sisarea is composed of many tiny crisscrossing paths that terminate at a wide-open courtyard in the center. Every building has a thatch roof and a huge porch that doubles as a room. Thin banisters separate the porches from the road.
Even at this time of night, the city is alive. The drunken Mephian men goad one another, and the women carefully step around them, some balancing baskets on their heads.
Trevus leads me to a café. A tall brunette woman waits behind a table covered in food – a chef.
My face lights up when I spot kron rolls on display. I count at least five different flavors. It’s been years since I’ve had krons, and I missed them dearly in Versillia.
“I’ll have two tomato-pepper krons,” I say to the chef.
“Of course, love.” She picks out two and hands me a plate. The nostalgic scent makes me beam.
Trevus leans in to inspect the two buns drizzled in cooked cheese. “You are familiar with this dish?” he asks.
“Yea. Tomato-pepper krons have been my favorite since I was a child.” The grin hasn’t left my face.
“’Tis just bread?” he asks.
“It’s much more than a bread roll. Inside is a mix of butter, chopped tomato, sweet pepper and gorge spices. The dough is baked around the mix, sealing it inside. It’s delicious.”
He stands straight again. “I shall have the same,” he says to the chef.
“For your first kron, I recommend the garlic babiginora,” I say. “It’s most people’s favorite.”
“Very well. I shall have the one that Jade described,” he says. He must not trust himself to pronounce babiginora. It’s odd to see someone else out of place when that’s usually my position.
“Two garlic babiginora krons – right away.” The chef hands him his own plate. “What brings you both all the way from Versillia?” she asks.
My neck prickles. Did she recognize our obans like the soldiers at the gate? “What makes you think I’m from Versillia?” I ask.
Trevus hands her a silver coin. “Trade.” He answers her question with a lie.
“It’s your accent, love,” she says. “Though your man’s accent is much thicker.”
“He’s not my man.” I turn away from her and head to a table.
Trevus takes a seat opposite me. I bite into my kron, but I’m too upset to enjoy it. How could she say I sound Versillian? I speak nothing like Trevus.
“What brings you anguish?” Trevus asks. He’s always watching my reactions. It makes it harder to slip a lie past him.
“’Tis the chef’s words,” I say, mimicking Versillian speech. “Am I suited to speaking in this manner?”
“I have a great distaste for hearing such words leave your lips,” Trevus says. “Cease that.”
I sink down, resting my chin on my palms. I’ve only eaten half a kron. “Do you like the way I speak?”
“I do. You should not dwell on it.”
At least one person likes my mixed accent, but the chef’s words still hang over me. “To Versillians I sound Mephian, and to Mephians I sound Versillian. How can I make friends when I’m always seen as the other?”
“You shall find friends. I am certain,” Trevus says.
“I will?”
“Your words shall attract persons irrespective of your accent. If our introduction were under alternative circumstances, I would wish to have you as a companion.”
That’s a peculiar thought. If I was never confined, and I met Trevus at a Tavern one evening, would we have become friends? I examine this man across the table, with his sharp features and exciting life. We could have ended up eating krons together just like this.
Trevus stands after finishing his food. “Remain in place for a time.” He waits for me to nod before heading off to a nearby merchant.
Is this my opportunity to leave? With how sore my legs are, I wouldn’t succeed in a sprint. He exits the store just a moment later, carrying nothing but the saddle bag. I’m still seated where he left me.
We find an inn together, and Trevus pays for our room. Eager to get inside, I take the key from him and hurry ahead. The door unlocks with a click, and I step inside.
It resembles our room in Cidon, with one large bed, a curtained window that overlooks the main street, a writing desk with a quill and a washing basin.
Trevus closes the door behind him. He unclips his sword and rests it against the saddlebag.
A bucket brewing over coals beside a basin catches my eye. “I’ll wash first,” I say.
Trevus steps out of my way. His sword lays well out of reach, left beside the saddle bag without much care. Cidon was the last time we were alone in a bedroom together, and his sword was across his lap the entire time my hands were exposed. He’s since learned that I won’t use my connection on him.
I turn to the basin, but a hand rests on my shoulder. “Wait,” Trevus says. He reaches into the saddlebag and takes out a black dress. “New clothes shall serve us well.”
I nod with a smile. The dress is simple, but the material is soft. This is the second outfit he’s bought me, and I now own two sets of clothes.
I head to the basin on the opposite side of the room. With my back to him, I take off my old oban shirt and wash with the cloth.
“Last evening, you offered a place beside you in the sleeping sack,” Trevus says. “Was that a ploy to curry favor?”
I laugh. “When did you get the impression that I suck up to soldiers?”
He pauses before speaking again. “I have observed that is not of your character.”
I wash my hair and rinse it out over the basin.
“Then what was your motivation?” Trevus asks.
I change out of the rest of my oban. “You would have frozen in the cold,” I say.
“That was all?”
I look back at him over my bare shoulder, meeting his gaze. “Is that not enough of a reason?”
His expression softens, appearing a little less guarded than usual. “You are a kind woman, Jade.”
I know what it feels like to be used. Others must not treat him as well as I imagined.
After rinsing off, I slip into my new dress. The soft material hangs loose on my body. It’s airy – more comfortable than the oban. The middle is folded in a springy pattern that hugs my midriff. Its modest, high-cut design makes it suitable for daily town life – exactly what I need from one of my first outfits.
I twirl around back to Trevus, the hem fanning out around my legs.
“You look beautiful, Jade,” Trevus says.
My cheeks go pink. “I do?” A handsome, accomplished, well-put-together man says that I’m desirable? I’ve spent so much time, undergone so much pain, just to fight the image of being pitiful, poor and unwanted. My life is changing.
Trevus stands. He steps closer, taking my bare hands in his. “Indeed. Your frame is pleasing.” His hand moves to my chin. “Your face is delicate.” His gaze meets mine. “And your eyes are striking.”
My knees might just melt.
His touch disappears, and he moves to the basin. I linger where he left me, watching him. He removes his shirt, revealing the ridges of his back.
I settle on the bed. He undresses further. My gaze falls to my knees as he changes into his new pair of black pants.
The bed shifts, and I look up again. He lies with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out. Nothing but the small silver locket covers his perfect, hard chest.
His hands find my middle, and he lifts me up, bringing my body right up beside him. He touches my chin, drawing my lips closer to his.
He’s going to kiss me.
My eyes don’t leave his sharp features. He leans in.
He’s going to kiss me.
A part of me wants to pull back – he’s supposed to be my guard, but a primal urge keeps my body rooted in place. Trevus, the handsome knight of Versillia,
is going to kiss me.
His soft lips meet mine. His hand slips past my ear, and his fingers run through my damp hair. I feel his warmth, his certainty, his will. Even with his great size and strength, his touch is gentle, his kiss tender.
He breaks the kiss, shifting a few inches back. I’m fixated on his deep blue eyes. His warm hands are still holding my frame. Kiss me again.
“Jade.” His deep voice makes my heart leap. His confident, commanding tone has always been attractive, but up close to him in private under candlelight, it hooks me like a siren’s call.
“After Nepolis, let us stay united,” he says.
My breath sticks in my throat.
“Be mine.”
My gaze falls to the locket on his chest. I can’t look at him right now. My heart wills me to say yes, but there won’t be an ‘after Nepolis
’
. I won’t even be at Nepolis if I can help it, and if I end up forced in there, my life will be cut short once Lord Reger and his guards discover my identity. I won’t be able to defend myself like Trevus imagines, as how could Mehlia’s spirit ever forgive me for using my connection again? All of this is built on a lie – a lie I’ve perpetuated from the very moment I met him. Maybe death at Lord Reger’s hand is my punishment for believing I deserved freedom after what I’ve done.
His hands move to my sides. “You need not decide at this time,” he says.
I shouldn’t feel this way for him, but I do, and my heart hurts.
“Perhaps your vision shall be clearer once we discover Mehlia’s whereabouts.”
My eyes widen. That name. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight.
“You-you-you mean Elie?” I can barely speak. My heart is in my throat. Every muscle in my body goes stiff waiting the split second it takes for him to answer.
“Elie is not a Versillian name. ‘Tis a mispronunciation I conjured for her as a child, and it stuck as such nicknames do. To all but myself, my mother’s name is Mehlia.”
I grab the locket from his neck. The thin silver chain snaps. My shaking hands struggle to pry it open. My body moves on its own with no thought. The lid of the locket pops off. Knives prick my skin from every angle. I can’t breathe.
The face that greets me inside – that black hair, those dull, dead eyes. Mehlia looks up at me. Her mouth opens wide and lets out a scream. It’s ear-piercing, distorting to sound like the voice of many people. Her mouth opens wider. Her skin turns gray and tears open at the cheeks. Her eyes roll back and fall deep into her skull. Skin flakes away, leaving just hair, bone and teeth.
“Jade,” she says my name. Her jaw moves but there are no lips to shape her words. Mehlia’s spirit has come back for me, to drag me down to the underworld where I belong. She has not forgotten. I thought that I could still live on with the vow never to use my connection. I was wrong.
“Jade!” Trevus shouts. My eyes meet his again. He’s shaking my shoulders.
I glance down at the locket in my hand. Mehlia is there, still and unmoving, as a painting should be.
“Jade,” Trevus says again.
“I’m here.” I avert my gaze. Trevus’s quest is useless. He’ll find nothing but pain. His mother is dead, and it was my fault.
“Why are you so frightened?” he asks.
I can’t tell him. Finding his mother is everything to him. He has done so much. No words could make him understand how sorry I am, that I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I glance at the sword in the corner of the room. If Trevus knew what I had done, he would kill me right here. I would bleed out on this bed, and he may even be leaving the world a better place. I am rotten. But I will lie again. I don’t want to die.
“I’m not your lover,” I speak through gritted teeth. “I’m not your friend. I’m not even in your party.” I take in a shaky breath. “I’m your prisoner, only here to escape my sentence.”
He lets go of my shoulders. His face changes, no longer holding concern, but pain. My words hurt him. My heart bleeds for him, for us, but these feelings he has would evaporate the instant he learned the truth.
He collects the broken chain and locket in his hands, setting them on the bedside table. Though he hasn’t spoken, his body language betrays that he has come to terms with what I’ve said.
He stands. “My intention was not to pressure a kiss outside your will.”
The kiss
was
my will.
He picks up the candle off the writing desk. “I misread your responses and believed you felt as I did.”
I can’t look at him.
“I shall not make that mistake again.” He blows out the candle, draping the room in shadow.
The creaky bed shifts from his weight as he climbs under the covers. His back is to me. I deserve it.
Author’s Note:
This story will have a happy and satisfying ending. @joonimari475 specifically predicted this in a comment all the way back in Chapter 10. Let me know if you suspected Mehlia was Trevus’s mother too, and what chapter you began to suspect it. There are still many more chapters to this story, with even more twists about Jade. Share your predictions.
Nooo!!! One of the commenters mentioned it and I was like “No ways” 🙈 Eish my nerves!
@iceheartgoldsmile Me too! 😂
how’s she gonna play off being a sorceress with a simple dress???
our man🙈
Oh fuck fuckity fuck fuck girl u killed this mans mother🥲 but what her ass was doing there to begin with tryna grab the damn girl
Awwww🫠
OH NO THE GASP I JUST GASPED 🫨
biggest plot twist fr
great scene! but can she show some concent towards him? like leaning in or touching him, ever so small, even if it is misinterpreted by him later on. Love the writing keep it up!
@fishfromlorax exactly bro
@blindbitch123 frr how you gon read a romance story and get mad when they fall in love 💀
Well that was a great plot twist omg 😭
Why are all of your comments so negetive
AHHHHHH
Well ain’t they abit too trusting
The first half of the chapter I was giggling kicking my feet, now I feel like my hearts been ripped from my chest. I love this author every book makes me feel something.
nooo omg! when is the next chapter please!!!!
aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!
Well that is different, that never crossed my mind. I thought she would be in the tower….
Holy shitttt😭😭😭
I didn’t see it coming at all!! I LOVE A GOOD PLOT TWIST
I didn’t expect that!!!
OMG!!
Awwwww
Awww cute
I mean… honestly this would have worked in her favor if she wanted to go the lying route still. All she had to do was say, “I witnessed her death at the hands of another.” No reason to go save daddy and risk her neck like she’s so terrified. What information would he have to help find a dead woman? Could even say the guy was killed as well. No need to find him for revenge. She gets a happy life full of guilt.
Not necessarily. In DnD terms, a silver coin is like a week’s pay for peasants. It depends on the coin’s worth in this setting.
For killing the kings mistress… Jeepers
And he’s been travelling with her all this time
Though personally I think having seen the way it effects her he won’t be as mad as she thinks he will. It will be devastating though…
Damn, what a plot twist!
@Thegigl *Youngest possible
@Thegigl the youngest age gap is about 5 years between the two
Yeah I think this is a red herring as the ages don’t match up.
Trevus’s was 15 when his mother left whereas Jade was only like 10 when she was taken captive, unless there is an age gap between them?
@Thegigl Yes she is
Oh no…
Wait what…
It’s good he’s not pressuring her
@Thegigl Twas a joke lmao
Okay that’s a bit possessive lol
she hasn’t even done much to show she loves you too besides going along with what’s happening
Aw! He loves her and wants to make a life with her
Isn’t she just describing what’s she’s feeling
This comment just made me remember her powers though and Trevus must trust her a lot at this point to be willing to actively accept risk of her using said powers at this point
And here I am the weirdo who hates making eye contact at the best of times let alone in intimate moment like that lol
I mean he is giving her a chance to pull away, I don’t think this is the kind of culture where people ask first rather going off body language and such which can tell you a lot
Though people should ask first
But it’s just their bedroom… lmao
@Thegigl It was a joke lol
@Thegigl I didn’t mean he didn’t mean desirable, I meant that beautiful dosen’t always = desirable
I think he knows her well enough at this stage to understand what might be taken as a compliment and what she might take offense…
She hasn’t been spoken to kindly since she was a child, so I guess he’s trying make his point obvious that he finds her good looking.
I’m pretty sure he us genuine in this case even if not all people would be…
You know maybe you have a kind side… when your not creating drama between people
Maybe he’s just trying to create an excuse to say it without is feeling forced?
Aw…