Chapter XIII
There had been few things in life, that Taranee Cook had not foreseen in even a glimmer. Her guardianship, for one, and perhaps the day that Cornelia Hale had first turned up at her door without an accomplice. Even finding out that the Princess of Meridian was Elyon had almost seemed to click with disturbances in her mind; she hadn't interpreted it, but it had made sense and realization had come before surprise.
Will Vandom, in herself and in her actions, had been many of these few moments, because Will was a surprise in herself for being brave when natural reaction was to be weak; to fight when all odds told of giving up and cutting losses.. And winning when losses should have come.
And apparently, today would be a commemorated moment, because the little redhead was not even transformed, and she had been glaring down an entire army single handedly, until Aldarn had stood beside her. Leaving them, now, standing tall in their guardian forms, as weapons were begrudgingly taken and stored, and bows were flexed and Will.. Well, Will had gone left, but perhaps it was a short cut to where Drake had gone, because Aldarn had been the one to point. Or perhaps she had only needed to cool off, because even Caleb might have been concerned by the sheer quantity of curses that had been issued - many rather colourfully worded - and Taranee was sure that that had been what Will was always like at some point.
A long time ago.
...
Lord Cedric had smiled, as Elyon's fingers seemed to trace her own reflection, and tears poured cataclysmically down her face in clean fluids that merely enhanced his delight in her anguish. A lie, of course, but the smile was certainly real and he would like to deny himself the privilege of calling her beautiful. She was a child, and perhaps it was that in which amused him, because she would, quite honestly have no end in destruction her footsteps laid a path for. And it was he who had been foolish anyway, because there was a reason that they were walking in circles; a question of dominance and femininity. Because he had become lazy in his footsteps; following her command.
Him, following her, following him.
And of course, the child would worry, about the coronation; she was to be Queen, or so she thought. And she was only looking for guidance, he assumed; her call for her brother being a cry for that exactly, because she could not have a thought about a lower man, if she were to become Queen. She was merely trapped in her own lust, and that it would be on a fair note self-destructive for her to want such a thing. And of course, fear had perturbed her words.
"If you're ready..?"
...
Drake was more than right, Caleb knew, and he slumped a tired body forward; ignoring the trembling shakes, that coupled with his streaming eyes, which he had no right to hide. The raw feeling of those eyes, contrasting the warm, wet stickiness drenching his cheeks, and he meekly wiped his running nose on his sleeve.
He didn't know anything.
Not about anything; not about people. Not about Will.
He was a monster; made by a monster,; fuelled by a monster, and he hadn't even seen it. The wrong in hiding her away. Like a toy in a box; a porcelain doll. Caleb didn't really think that she was what she was, but what did he know? And it was his fault, anyway. For leading her here.
And he didn't know what was worst: the fact that she had followed him, or the fact that he'd known all too well that she wouldn't run, now, were he to tell her too. And even if she would..
She'd never let him run from this.
"Caleb..?"