To my readers,
Let curiosity run rampant and take over.
Cantarella: (a variation of arsenic or cantharidin powder and alleged by Borgia enemies to have been used by Pope Alexander VI, Rodrigo Borgia. Many writers dismiss these allegations as slander.)
CantA°RellA
"Are you afraid?" He quietly asked
"No." With diligence, she whispered
She was ready to take his poison ivy
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They were both aware of this scandalous, explicit, illicit dance they're playing. She entered the doors with her low-heeled shoes and penetrating gaze. He awaited for her with his blue suit-and-tie and an incessant grin not having the possibility of slipping from his cherubic face.
The lads around made a clear, marbled path when she walked towards the middle of the ball. Their evil eyes of greed and lust dared to stare at the lithe, innocent form of Lady Elizabeth Middleford. Lasses of different nobilities feigned jealousy when they noticed that the bachelor Earl Ciel Phantomhive approached the upcoming lady of blonde hair. It seemed the two were eager to meet, and the crowd whispered: "Were they already destined?"
"My lady, Elizabeth, you look beautiful, as always." One kiss on the top of her silk-gloved hand. Surreptitiously checking the presence of their engagement band.
"Your eyepatch is tilting, my lord." A smirk. Then, the flashing of her fan to hide her smile.
She laced her arm through the crook of his elbow. And they traversed the party more like a newlywed couple than intended cousins.
"You're late." Ciel finally muttered.
"Where is Sebastian?" She queried, quickly fading the topic.
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"Are you scared?" She bravely questioned
"Of what?" He steadily replied
Of losing ourselves in this madness
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Sons of the young earl's business partners said their greetings and exchanged a few words with him. He didn't introduce Elizabeth as his lover, but his cousin instead. Yet all of them felt the rising tension in his tedious aura as someone marked their lips upon her wrist.
"Is he your suitor?" A Lady once asked when they were separated.
"No, he is my fiancé." Possessiveness dangerously glinted in her deep emerald eyes. The person she was talking to did not miss it.
The conductor led the orchestra to another slow, seductive music. Partners one by one travelled the center for a romantic show.
"First dance of the night, Lizzy." He murmured. His fingers left traces down her arm. He pulled her hand with a beaming simper.
"There are many more waiting." May the pearled moon grant them a long night then, she prayed.
"Sebastian, wine."
Like a portrait in the background, called butler, faithful Sebastian Michaelis emerged. Two ruby wine glasses atop a silver platter lay rested on his white-clad palm.
"Cheers, Elizabeth." Beckoned the Earl Phantomhive. And the black butler dissipated in the shadows. Leaving his Young Master and Mistress alone to their own devices, a smug, grim, plastic smile plastered on his immoral face.
"I kept you waiting, didn't I?" Elizabeth taunted. A drink twisting between her thumb and forefinger.
"You know I am the impatient kind." He imposed. His pale lips being stained with red.
"Forgive me then, my lord." She teased, chuckles erupting. Extensive, drawn eyelashes batted. "How could I ever make it up to you?"
"The last half of the 6th dance, perhaps?" There was no escape about it. His words were laws begging to be violated.
"That early? Is there something up to your sleeve, Ciel?" She protested but she'll give in. This is just a pretentious farce for her own and also maybe his entertainment.
"Your corset was a little too tight, you looked plundering for air." An unexpected indiscreet blush from her. Another smile boldly radiated from him.
"Is that so? But I feel perfectly fine." Defensive. Building bricks higher for him to destroy.
"But I bet you'll be more-"
"Excuse me, my lady, but will you allow me, a humble gentleman, to have your next dance?" An aristocrat from the sidelines. Musty hair and mahogany-shaded eyes paying attention only at the famed beauteous of Lady Middleford.
"Oh, such a wondrous invitation but I'm afraid I cannot accept that without your name stuck on my mind." Elizabeth's voice smoothly tinged with playful hints. From the corner of her peripheral vision, her lovely fiancé peered with coldness oozing from his sapphire orb. Just as what she expected.
"I am Duke Martin of Hemsphire-"
A throttled cough paused the Duke of his introduction. He turned, and saw the ominous single-sighted boy. Ice crept up in the atmosphere, sizzling the three of them.
"Aren't you the infamous Earl Phantomhive? Pardon me for my rudeness, I have heard of your achievements, Queen's Watchdog." Ciel's mind electrocuted. This Duke of Hemsphire was the first to announce his alliances with the Queen. Often it was the Earl of Phantomhive or The Head of Funtom Company.
Nonetheless, the man's words did not simmer the freezing heat slithering in between. More like it made the already low temperature hit negative-zero.
"Ah, yes. The Society is fond my name, aren't they?" The Earl has revealed again his beguiling trademark smirk. The contents from his crystal goblet were emptied. The liquid lapped in his tongue.
Whilst Elizabeth returned her cup to one of the awaiting butlers with no traces of the drink. Her embroidered fan opened and eyes lit up in mischievousness as she observed.
"Indeed. Your presence at any social gathering spreads like wildfire in a hot summer. I am eager to know you better, Earl Phantomhive, but the next dance is beginning and I still need to convince your lady fiancée for it." Smiling gregariously, the Duke veered himself to Lady Elizabeth.
"So you knew?" Ciel did not bother to refrain from speaking. His teeth gritted. The impudence that this lower-being presented spiked his childish antics.
"Of course, my lord. Such an exquisite lover you have. There is no problem inviting Milady to a dance, is there?"
"No, none at all."
The fake smile did not reach the Earl's eyes. Nor did his fisted hand unclench until the two were out of his tethering visage.
"Where did the Young Mistress go, my lord?" Questioned butler Sebastian in his black long-tailed coat and unwavering sly grin.
"Lizzy has gone off to play." He answered. His hand taken out, an obsolete order.
"Sebastian, wine."
She drank his poison down her throat
He stopped to smirk at her choice
"You are insane for loving me."
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They were both aware of playing the golden chess game that hadn't been touched by any other. Elizabeth Middleford wasn't a piece to Ciel Phantomhive's board. She will never be the Queen to his obsidian King nor the loyal, faithful knight of his dreams. She is the contender from the other side. The nemesis who stirred up trouble in his foolproof-plan tactic. Moving sacrificial pawns and taking out his useful, treasured pieces.
And so, light footsteps were heard from his leather boots. The knob of the door behind locked with the indecipherable puzzle of opening it. He strode inside the dark, dark room embracing the madness of the moonlight.
She was in the midst of the insanity. Before her laid a corpse. With the little light offered by the moon of the high-paneled translucent window, Ciel recognized the dead bleeding man.
Duke Martin of Hemsphire.
It was no surprise that the epiphany did not faze the Earl.
"His mouth reeked of poison." She told him. Viridian emeralds watching the tangled body.
"Even if he didn't die by poison, he would've eventually died by the knife." He stood behind her, his cold breath sending shivers to Elizabeth's pale nape.
She twisted her slim curvaceous form facing him. The atrocious lack of space between their noses was forbidden in every sense of London's noble ethics. They weren't married yet and the possibility of tying their knots in the future blurred every passing second. Not to mention this was a manor hosted by their hospitable acquaintance.
The lady crumpled down to the carpeted floor. As a gentleman, of course he caught her at the most appropriate time.
"I like you vulnerable, Lizzy." He washed her glares away with his kisses. His fingers toyed the lace of her corset.
She felt his annoying smirk widen as she let him dominate her lips. Struggling for oxygen, she tightly clutched the lapels of his coat. She dawned in the thought of drowning in his charms and vices. The pooled heat fought the room's frigid air as they both pulled their bodies closer to each other.
"Dominant as ever, my love." Pinned to the ground, Elizabeth reached out her fingers to graze his cheeks. Slowly climbing up her bare hand to untie his eye patch. The cursed symbol glowed. Her hand went back to treasuring his face. Ciel shut off his eyes comfortably, basking in the warmth that is her hand.
"I win my games as always, my lady." Fingers dug on his back as he sucked her neck dry.
"Through cheating." She moaned.
"Yes, my dear. Through cheating." He repeated. "But you like it."
Wolves howled. Demons feasted. Vampires drank. The creatures in eclipse celebrated in this crazy night. Her silk-worm gloves lay forgotten as the buttons of his cottoned shirt popped open. The scent of thick, vermilion blood perfumed them. They slipped inside their closed-off world of mad love and passion.
The motionless, startled eyes of the late Duke Hemsphire witnessing their verboten escapade.
He opened her lips, sipping poison no doubt
She will forever be locked up in his high cloud
"You already fell for this lunatic romance first."
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"When will we stop this?" She blurted out in his office. In her hands, a newspaper with the bold headlines glaring: Duke Hemsphire Murdered at a Party. Marchioness Frances must be awaiting at her manor, prepared to scold her for spending another night at the Phantomhives.
"Are you sure you want to stop? You kept asking me for more, Lizzy." He steely replied, not sparing her washed-out face a glance. His stack of paperwork decreases.
"How could you say that?" A test that both of them had perfectly written the answer.
He left his maroon, velvet chair and trudged his way to reach her. The paper fell as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Hot lips smacking her temples.
"Because you love me, Elizabeth Middleford. Only a woman who craves to kill can love the blood that stains me." Another vow, a promise. She lets him grasp her hips where her rapiers were strapped in. He has memorized too much of her body.
"And I love you, Lizzy." She stepped back and escaped his predatory trap. More, and she might be trapped again. Her cupid's bow were wet and glistening. Royal green eyes laughed at him.
"That's a lie." Elizabeth turned away heading for the exit of this torturous lair of him. He leaned back at his wooden desk, arms crossed.
"And how could you say that?" His mouth itched to grin. He bore holes in her spine.
Her porcelain head tilted demanding his attention. Before she twitched the pair of doorknobs with her chilled hands, she spoke.
"Your eye patch is falling, my lord."
Ciel went back to his seat, gazing profoundly at the slightest of gaps Elizabeth made when she left. A thought tempting to be let out rolled off his throat.
"You are the reason why this game never ends." Then, a sigh.
His paperwork increases.