W a r . of . the . R o s e s
Stargirl
. IV Autumns Whispers
Autumn's season whispers tell
The tale of roses, proud and true,
The birth of stories, cycles of life;
Dawns that will bring the morning dew.
A chill mist hung in the morning air, the sky above a cloudy white. Birds sang distantly from wet branches, the smell of damp earth strong. Serenity Blake stood rooted to the terrace of Whittenfield Academy, tentative eyes on the rich chestnut doors that would lead her to her fourth day at the school. The longer she waited, the more the morning around her sank beneath her skin. Perhaps this England morning could have been enchanting--ethereal--with its dew-dipped fields of silver-green grass, the distant hills' misty blue, and the hidden larks' calling. But no, the impression that was pressed upon her was cold, its low fog giving a dreamy-unreal focus laced with a sense of alienation.
She shut her eyes, drew in a slow breath, and sent a prayer heavenward that the day would pass in a blur--much as her sleepless night had. The night had been full of many things--wistfulness, anger, fear, weariness, and a flickering of contentment from which source she could not for the life of her find. She had twisted and flung in her small bed, the scattered moments that her mind sank into sleep filled with visions of crimson roses, swords, and perhaps a wayward kiss. So it hadn't been a particularly wonderful night, but morning had crept onto her all too soon. As far as she was concerned, the end of this day couldn't come soon enough.
Far too much had happened in such a short time. It would leave any person weak and begging the heavens for peace. She could laugh now, thinking back to her last days at her school in New Jersey, sitting at her desk amongst shouts and laughter with papers being flicked across the room. She would sit there, quietly, shutting her eyes and ears to the chaos and noise as she dreamed of going to Whittenfield, consoling herself by the thought of how soon that would be. She hadn't kidded herself that there would undoubtedly be snobs at her new school, but never had she imagined a society in itself with rules and dealings to make her head spin.
She knew that as she stood there she was missing the morning assembly in the great hall. That brought her some consolation, but the thought also warned her that if she wanted to get to her class in relative peace while the halls were void of students, she had better do so soon. Before she could argue with herself to prolong the inevitable, she pushed open the looming doors before her. Perhaps, just perhaps, people would have forgotten about the scarlet rose that so twisted the day before--the very rose that still sat at Serena's bedside.
Victorian gold-rimmed windows spread across the walls, bestowing the majestic view of the grounds of Whittenfield Manor. Like quilt patches of silver greens, misty blues, and hazy browns, the fields and hills made the scene worthy of England pride. Cold gray light poured in from the windows. The drawing room held absolute quiet. Handsome furniture sat expertly over the gleaming hard floors, a sleek grand piano stood in a far corner, and silk curtains fell from around the windows.
Raye Whittenfield sat still in a chair of deep russet, silver-chipped eyes staring ahead out the windows like blue marble--utterly void. Her blood flowed coolly through her; a slender finger tapped the chair's cushioned arm. Barely a breath, barely a flicker of dark eyelash, attested that there was still life in her elegant form. Even these small signs of life, however, froze at the spirited footsteps that echoed down the hall before stopping close by.
"Is my dear sister sulking?" a voice called lightly to her. She had always been able to share in his sardonic moods, been able to meet his eyes, a ghost of laughter in her own--but not today.
Her eyes narrowed the slightest fraction, stiffened shoulders relaxing but only from sheer will. "Of course not," she breathed, voice airy and cold. Behind her perfect façade, there was a grimace. The accusation of 'sulking' was a detestable insult that grated on her steely nerves.
"So, you are not in the least upset then?" She could sense his smile ingraining on her back.
"No."
"But you think I'm an idiot?"
"You are." Her voice rose in silky, indifferent tones. It was useless to add the steel in her voice that had the power to chill so many. He was her brother and they were too much alike, and thus invulnerable to each other.
"I take it that you are not going to school then?" he drawled, the hidden laughter resounding in her ears.
And watch him make a fool of himself? Hardly. She rose in one fluid motion, turning to face him with a level gaze, letting him see her docked in her fine riding habit, ebony jacket and creamy breaches.
"No, I will not be going. I feel like riding," she replied, walking soundlessly to the doorway he was leaning against. She stopped just before him, mirroring ice-blue eyes locking together. "Do what you wish today. Even tomorrow, and the day after. I know when to step aside. Serenity Blake may capture your interest for a day, but I know you enough that it will fade on your most ficklest of whims," she said with a sigh as if accepting the misgivings of a child, lowering her eyelashes and shaking her head. Then she flicked her head and murmured, as if a proclamation of a duchess, "So have your fun, brother. I will not stop you." She stood on her toes, placing a cold kiss on her brother's cheek, and then proceeded to brush by him without a further glance.
Her dark lashes drooped as she strode mindlessly down rich chestnut halls towards the stables--to her beloved horses. Yesterday, she had taken the time to assess the situation, and came to this conclusion. It wasn't worth bestowing her emotion on. Her brother would do what he wanted, and though she still could not understand his interest, she was certain that he would soon come around.
For the first time since she woke up that morning, her eyes flickered with something; a silky amusement swam in the shadow of her eyelashes. Serenity Blake would visit their ranks, taste their rich life, her brother's affections, and then return to the gutter. And if, for any unfortunate reason, she did not, Raye would have to put her in her place. It was a very, very luxurious idea. She reached the stables with shadowed eyes, the barest of smiles upon her lips.
The morning wore on in an intelligible blur. The same rush of attention and smiles nearly swallowed Serena. Now in the patio of the cafeteria, the sky a cheery blue with birds calling from hidden branches, Serena stared longingly at the quiet nature around her. The cacophony of students, either praising or trying to include her in some form of their upper class speech, were beginning to make her head spin. It was a prison of smiles and talk.
A Goldie Locks among the current two girls hugged her books and gushed, "Miss Blake! What an insightful view of Hamlet's plight. I myself always…" Oh yes, Serena remembered. These students had followed her from her English Literature class. She had only tentatively expressed her views and didn't think they were enough to warrant praise. She had been mildly ruffled by the fact that she had been the only one in class to have read Hamlet instead of seen it at the theatre.
"Oh yes," another pretty smiling face cut in, nodding, "I've seen Hamlet a dozen times at the Ivory Theatre. Miss Blake, what do you feel about Pallin's portrayal of Hamlet? Alice says that he gives a crude and shallow perspective to his insanity, but I've always enjoyed his performances." Silky cap of ebony hair and doll like brown eyes—the girl looked liked an Emily. Emily it would be. Serena wasn't sure whether she had forgotten their names or they simply assumed that she knew them.
"Do you know that I've seen the French heiress at the Ivory! She's a student at Bainbridge Academy. Serenity, don't talk to her if you ever see her there. She acts like she owns the world!"
And you don't, Serena mused, but her eyes were glazed over and she hadn't the spirit to speak the thought. They would probably miss its meaning entirely.
Goldilocks suddenly smiled mischievously. "But you know," she sang, twirling a golden curl, "I've seen one Bainbridge at the Ivory that I wouldn't mind talking too."
Emily, as she had become in Serena's mind, gave a scandalous gasp followed by a coy smile that somehow ruined her doll look. "It's suicide if you do, but it could make for a sweet death."
"Why is it suicide?" Serena inquired, the longest sentence she had spoken. She had resigned herself to being lost among the girl's prattle. Perhaps it was the mention of the neighboring school that caught her interest. She was a dimwit for thinking of the student from there that she had met, but for some odd reason she didn't feel nearly as irritated with him as before.
Goldilocks smiled indulgently at her. "You'll understand in time. It's not wise to be associated with anyone from Bainbridge, let alone the student council president." She stopped to give a mournful sigh, jiggling her bouncy curls about. "It's just too sad that he's even dreamier than Mr. Whittenfield – and richer."
Serena envisioned the sleek council president, Seiya Whittenfield, and had difficulty imagining someone more gorgeous. Though perhaps, the Bainbridge student came pretty close. His shoulders were broader, and his thick ebony hair in disarray over a pair pf deep blue eyes. Then there was that humorous quirk his lips pulled into. He said his name was Darien. Trolling the unusual name in her mind, she found that it fit him.
"Miss Blake?" Goldilocks' voice sounded far off, but still Serena jerked to attention.
"Sorry. What was that?" she said, trying to fight off the blush to her cheeks. What had she been thinking? That student was callous and always seemed to be silently laughing at her. Just remembering the superior look in his eyes infuriated her. He was nothing like Seiya Whittenfield, who was refined and treated her like an equal. She had enough of arrogant people to last her lifetime!
"Well, as I was saying, you must meet our friends. Everyone's been so anxious to meet you!"
Since when? Serena thought, bemused. Amid a sigh, she perked up. The mention of friends made her think of someone. "Do either of you know of a student named Amy Jameson?"
Emily's eyelashes lowered a fraction. "Jameson…" she murmured reflectively. "Such a common name, isn't it?"
"Oh, but what does it matter?" Goldilocks piqued brightly, taking Serena's arm. "We know everyone of importance at this school. Don't be too surprised, next year, if we are appointed into the student council. The girl promptly turned and waved others over to introduce Serena too.
Serena blinked, flustered by the student's chattering like a hive of bees around her. Somehow, she could hardly edge in a word. At least they paid no notice to her silence. Their faces were graced by smiles and ardent expression. It was all so hallow… and did they have to pretend that they had befriended and taken her under their wings from the beginning? She wouldn't remember their faces or names tomorrow—really, she couldn't even recall them now.
Serena peered out to the trees, words fading and blending around her. She tried to console herself that it was preferable to their scorn and indifference, but at least the feelings had been honest. She pictured the flighty, selfish minds beneath the smiles. It was their right to be that way, but she didn't wish to be subjected to it. They continued to talk to her as if they already knew her mind and unsaid words. Sick of all of them, she lifted her face and cried, "Enough!"
Dainty gasps sprung from the girls. They looked at her in astonishment and the boys with raised eyebrows.
Serena fidgeted uncomfortably under their stares. "I-I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Please excuse me." For an absurd moment she wondered if she should curtsy. Appalled by the ridiculous notion and telling herself that she was an complete idiot, she turned on her heels and fled down a hall.
There she was. Misty blue eyes blinked at the sight of Serenity Blake amidst the upper crust of the student body. Amy Jameson suppressed a lonely sigh from where she stood in view of the terrace where students during the luncheon hour mingled. She turned from her shadowy corner and slipped quietly into the hall.
The murmurs bloomed throughout the hall, and demure Amy ducked her head. She should have been happy for the new student, but even her streak of worry was lost to sadness. She hadn't truly lost a friend she tried to tell herself. She had only met Miss Whittenfield that one day, after all. Though for a day she had thought of the girl just as Serena and had looked forward to seeing her again.
She just lost the one friend she might have had since Mina Addlington. Both were lost to her in very different ways though. Serenity hadn't given her any inkling thought that she was more than she appeared—Amy hadn't cared. It now seemed clear, though, that the girl was far more above the station to mingle with the daughter of a doctor. Even if Serenity did wish to pursue a friendship, Amy would only be holding her down. Serenity defied the odds of the school's initial scorn and a connection to plain Amy Jameson would only dampen her new high status. Any student's position in the school, under the elite Student Council, was fragile at best. Standings had to be maintained or else lost, and the most innocent acts could lose everything. Amy was quiet, a girl that others could forget the presence of. Those who are silent often saw and understood more of what was around them. Amy held no disillusion of the school.
Amy sighed as she slipped into the mass of students around her. At first, she had been very afraid for her friend, to the point it was a tingling sickness inside her. It might have been oddly strong for a girl she barely knew, but she couldn't help it…
Serenity had struck a tender spot in her, unerringly reminding her of Mina Addlington with her bright blue eyes, long blonde hair, and most of all her spirit. Mina had been so strong in Amy's eyes, but the girl hadn't been able to accept the school's ways and had paid for it dearly. Amy's eyes still grew moist thinking of when she had watched her friend as she left the school, left England. Mina had given her a weak smile and waved, but Amy couldn't respond in any way, too distressed at seeing her beautiful friend now with dark shadows beneath her eyes, cheeks hallowed, and the broken spirit that wrung around her shoulders.
At the familiar, painful swelling inside her, Amy scolded herself. There was nothing to worry about. Serenity Blake was not Mina Addlington. Mina had been a nobody, whereas Serenity clearly was. For once Amy agreed with the conclusions of her peers. If Serenity wasn't, then none of this could have happened. And it was by the time that Amy understood this that the worry and fear had left her and was replaced by the lonely sadness she now carried. Serenity Blake, unlike Mina, was in a position to take care of herself. Or was she? Was anyone truly able to take care of themselves under the school's ways? It was a festering thought, even as she tried to trample it. If she herself was a mouse, then surely Serenity was a sparrow.
"I still don't believe it," a female voice bit, the scathing tone sounding odd in the dreamy courtyard of Whittenfield Academy.
Serena blinked at the sound. She sat cross-legged, huddled in the hidden niche by ivy-shrouded walls, determined lines creasing her brow and eyes glaring at the heavy textbook in her lap. After she had bolted from the terrace, she had secluded herself to a niche in one of the numerous courtyards. She hadn't felt hungry in any case, and opted to take the time to study. Her mind had refused to focus on her homework once she had arrived home the night before, so with a frustrated growl she had pushed it aside.
Though none of her teachers thus far that day reprimanded her for it, she had flushed deeply when unable to hand in the work. At her old school, the teachers would have asked in concern whether she was sick and she would have faced the rest of the day with cheep cracks from her peers. Her failing to hand in her work was just unheard of. She suppressed a groan that threatened the back of her throat. This school was really making her lose it. The level of study was a difficult jump as it was without her distracted mind.
She was halfway through a vigorous study of Napoleon and his war when the voice broke through to her. She paused at its familiarity, and the following words made her stiffen and listen carefully.
"He couldn't be interested in her. I didn't even see any rose."
She would have ignored it if not for the immediate feeling that the talk was of her. So it was curiosity that caused her to lift her head and scoot over rough stone to peer through some wet ivy. The sight of her ruby-haired girl with her group of friends confirmed Serena's suspicions. It was her tormentor of her second day. Even remembering the mocking words, Serena's fingers dug deep into her palm.
"But Narcissa," an anxious voice of a younger girl spoke, "I saw the rose myself. She was holding it."
Narcissa shook her head of crimson hair, a sneer lacing her beautiful face. "Fine then," she snapped, "She must have placed the rose there herself."
Serena bristled at the comment, but kept her indignation trapped between her pursed lips as she watched.
"She was here only two days though," a taller girl said slowly, tentative. "How could she have known what it meant?"
The girl shrunk under Narcissa's glare. "Are you insinuating that Seiya Whittenfield would give a rose to the likes of her," she gritted. "She's a--"
Serena snapped her textbook shut and stepped into the open. "She's a what?" she challenged, leveling her eyes on the red-head who whirled around at her cool voice and completely ignoring the startled gasps from the other girls.
Narcissa's eyes soon lost their shock and sank into a furious glare. Then she tilted her head back and laughed. "So, you think you're miss high and mighty now."
Serena's expression hardened in a stony blank stare even as she grew nervous. She was sick of undeserved comments behind her back and her anger made her bold.
Narcissa's laughter died down quickly, but the wild smile stayed. She dropped her eyes over sardonic, humorous depths, and when she spoke again, her voice was a musing drawl. "Really, Blake, of all the nonsense. Do you really believe that Seiya Whittenfield gave you the rose?" Narcissa paused for a husky laugh, shaking her head. "It was so cruel for whatever person to get your hopes up. It was a poor thing to do."
"I have no hopes," Serena gritted, "but Seiya Whittenfield did give me that rose, so get used to it!" Narcissa stepped back with shocked, blazing eyes, but the outburst surprised Serena far more though she had sense enough not to let it on. She realized, belatedly of course, that she perhaps should not have said that. Narcissa's words just triggered it like an awaiting bomb.
What was done was done though, and accepting that nothing could change that, Serena lifted her chin a notch with defiant eyes. Despite her bravado, however, there was a sickening knot of fear in her stomach which rattled at the thought that perhaps someone had given her the rose to raise her hopes--even though it had done no such thing, she insisted to herself, ignoring whatever pleasure she had recently fancied.
Though not really paying attention to them, Serena vaguely noticed that Narcissa's friends had gone quite anxious and ghostly pale, the smallest one tugging at Narcissa's sleeve and begging to reconsider. Narcissa shrugged the girl off with disgust, not taking her eyes off of Serena who had an inkling bad feeling of the challenge in the girl's eyes. "Is that so?"
Serena answered with a tight, nearly imperceptible nod. She had dug her own hole and could see no way to escape it. The least she could do was act with dignity.
The smile twisting at Narcissa's was far too confident and smug for Serena's liking. Serena gritted her teeth and straightened her shoulders, trying to prepare to spit fire with fire, when Narcissa finally spoke. "Fine then," she declared silkily, "If you are so sure…and Mr. Whittenfield truly did give you the rose, then there will be no problem for you to kiss him—where of course, there are witnesses."
A hammer knocking Serena dumb could not have had a more devastating effect. She blinked and then blinked again. The tongue of hers, that had been so willing for a fight just a moment before, numbed to a useless slug in her mouth.
The dread pounded through her blood in sudden weakening waves and she could do nothing to swipe the triumphant smile off of Narcissa's face. Nothing but stand there and slowly fall apart inside. There was no way she could go up to Seiya Whittenfield and kiss him in front of the school! Not even to note her twisting suspicions that he might not have been the one to give her the rose and the implications if that were the case and she did play out Narcissa's challenge, it was still impossible! Her throat constricted and choked with frustration.
Then, as Narcissa gloated silently and as Serena stood wishing for the life of her that she hadn't left her hiding place, a squeak from one of Narcissa's friends sounded just before a familiar, complacent voice drawled, "No problem at all," the reference achingly clear.
Serena's heart thudded heavily in her chest as she turned to the young man having unknowingly crept up on them.
"Mr. Whittenfield!" Narcissa's incredulous voice rang in the silence.
Seiya Whittenfield nodded a wry acknowledgment to Narcissa before turning to Serena who stared back numbly. Suddenly she flushed, seeming to snap out of her stupor. If he had heard… but he couldn't be insinuating that—
"Well, Miss Blake?" he ventured, a smile tipping his lips, "shall we oblige them?"
On no, he was insinuating it, and was not jesting as he walked over to her. Panic bubbled in her chest and her blood ran cold. Trembling, she glanced wildly at Narcissa. If Serena hadn't been so distressed, she would have laughed at the wide-eyed red head. One of the other girls clasped her hand over her mouth and looked on in avid fascination.
"Have I not earned a kiss," Seiya said softly so the others could not hear, "for being your rescuer, not once, but now twice?"
Serena dragged her gaze back, finding something dancing within the student council's murky eyes. Her heart knotted in her throat and she could hardly breathe, her mind a terrible mess. His words struck her true though. He had helped her once before, and now seemed set to do so. It would really be the sweetest vengeance to be paid to Narcissa who had seemed now to be the one who had dug her own hole. To everyone's surprise, however, she gave a slight shake of her head and gazed up at Seiya with pleading eyes. He seemed momentarily taken by her refusal, and just as she worried if she had offended him too much, he nodded in acceptance. Further, he startled her by gently taking her smaller hand in his and planting a feather-light kiss on the back of her hand. She found she couldn't look away from his silver-blue eyes and her pulse fluttered wildly. Seiya turned from her to the girls, and Serena numbly noted that he was still gently holding her hand.
She glanced at the girls who were very quiet. The two stared in awe; Narcissa held a stare that Serena could not hope to define. Whatever it was, the terrible girl seemed put in her place. Serena gave Seiya a free smile, hoping to convey her thanks. She really did owe the student president a lot, she reflected. Once again, he maneuvered her from an awkward situation. The gentlemanly kiss to her hand spoke volumes to Serena, and she warmed at his consideration to her feelings. She did not want her first kiss to be with a near stranger, or any illusions with herself that its purpose was to flaunt and take revenge on those that harassed her. Perhaps, she thought, when he wasn't a stranger… she wouldn't mind. Her thoughts trailed and she registered Seiya giving a polite nod to the other students. "If you will excuse us," he murmured, his voice holding all of the diplomacy of a prince. It was belatedly that she realized he said "excuse us" and not "excuse me." As the girls gaped on, still quiet in their stupor, Seiya tugged on Serena's hand and, without question, she followed.
Serena felt like she needed to say something, more words than she knew brimming at her lips, but her own uncertainty kept her silent. It was Seiya's voice that broke the silence. "If you have any problems, even those like the one back there, I'd like for you to tell me."
Serena's head jerked up as she glanced at his profile, a puzzled frown on her visage. "Why?" she asked simply.
Seiya angled his head slightly to raise a cool eyebrow in her direction even as amusement swam in his eyes. "Shouldn't it be the Student President's duty to help a new student?"
Certainly for her definition of one, it was. It was clear that her definition of things were quite different from those at Whittenfield, though. His voice was light hearted and she felt he wasn't going to give her a serious answer. She felt certain that the Student Council had no duty other than to bring honor to their school. They were the elite of Whittenfield Academy and all that the position presented. She stayed silent after his vague answer. Perhaps she had no real eagerness to explore his reasoning.
"A new fancy, Whittenfield?" The new voice was cultured and smooth, not particularly friendly, though more resigned than scorning. Serena looked up in surprise as Seiya and her stopped as a man she did not recognize stepped in their path. At first look, Serena had thought him as elderly from the silky white hair swept back into a stately ponytail, but his face and build portrayed a man only in his thirties. Either his hair was extremely blond, or was prematurely gray. Sharp gray eyes narrowed on her, and only then did she realize he may have been insinuating her as the "fancy." She sent him an indignant look back and almost thought she caught a hint of a smile on his lips. She thought she imagined it when the man turned to Seiya as his expression was clearly arctic.
Seiya seemed unruffled and gave an easygoing smile, greeting calmly, "Artemis."
"Despite obvious distractions, do you think you will honor me with your presence for today's lecture?"
Serena was impressed, and couldn't help admiring the bold teacher—if a teacher he indeed was. The exaggerated humility seemed to conceal an underlining mockery. Even the hardened Fencing teacher would not have dared to speak so to Seiya Whittenfield. Seiya gave a noncommittal nod though and pulled Serena onward. Still ruffled from the abrupt exchange, Serena glanced back to see the teacher looking after them with a strange expression. "He doesn't seem to like you very much," Serena commented without thinking.
Seiya responding with a smile, though it felt like a form of dry humor. "No. I don't suppose he does." Serena looked at him searchingly, and he added, "He's a literature professor at the school. A very good one I assure you."
Serena sighed and let her eyes fall to the walkway. That hadn't answered her question at all, really. She lifted her head and tried to decide on a different one that bothered her. "Are you planning to attend his class?" The Council President's quick mind picked up on her real question immediately. Do you always come and go as you please?
"I attend when I feel it is for the best," he answered mildly. "I had private tutors before I was of age to attend Whittenfield Academy. I am quite versed with all subjects and it is tedious having the things I know repeated twice to me."
It still didn't seem right, but Serena tried to understand him. If she already knew and understood the material in her classes, the classes would be boring… though infinitely easier, she couldn't help but add as she thought of the difficulty with the high level of expectation from teachers. The best from her American school didn't come close to the norm at Whittenfield Academy. Add in the cultural and class gap and she had one fit struggle. She wanted her grades and accomplishments to be honest, however. If the teachers decided to give her As, from whatever cause, then she would live up to it without guilt.
Seiya Whittenfield proceeded to walk her to her next class. He stopped her at the door and asked a question of his own. "Will I see you tomorrow?"
Serena wasn't sure what to say. Being seen with the student council president could cause even more trouble. When all was said and done though, he had been the only one to reach out to her. Of course there had been the girl from her first fencing class—but as much as Serena had tried to look for her, the girl didn't seem to want to be found. It was lonely. As much as she wished she didn't care, she didn't want to be alone. She nodded yes and he smiled and opened the classroom door for her. As she walked through, never had she felt so uncertain what a school year might bring.
From above, two pairs of eyes stared down at the couple making their way through the school courtyards, violet eyes cool and observant while silver-green eyes flashed with annoyance. The two young men watched their friend and council president quietly for a moment. Above any at the school, they were the closest to Seiya Whittenfield. They understood his amusements, his annoyances, and his cockiness. He was the prince, the one with absolute power. His breeding, wealth, and nature entitled him to be so. As friends and fellow elite members of the student council, they held a liberty many did not.
"It's pitiful," the smaller one with whispy, white-blond hair muttered. What he lacked in his frail, almost angelic, looks was made up in full by the spirit in his forest eyes. His fists clenched at his sides, a sense of both fire and ice about him.
The taller of the two turned from the window, his expression cooler than his comrades. Keen intelligence lurked behind his fashionable glasses. "She is quite pretty," he said mildly.
An unamused glare focused on him. "You are not at all concerned?" the blond challenged.
"Of course I am," the other responded in his same calm voice. "You know Seiya as well as I, however. She has caught his interest."
"Are you saying we are to do nothing?"
"I am saying that we are to wait. We must be patient."
The anger in him mellowed, but the blond still stared sulkingly. "And what are we to do if his amusement persists?"
The other shut his eyes and started walking off, his shoes echoing across the room. "We have a strong ally," he said simply. "His sister holds more venom than either you or I."
Author Notes
Sorry for not updating in so long! I've really been caught up in some other things this past year. But my finals for this semester are over! (happy star) I still just got a job at Waldenbooks that I'll be starting and it's a busy month, but I promise I'll try to take advantage of the holidays to get a bit of writing done. I had a lot of this written for awhile but made myself recently shape it up a bit and finish it. Thanks goes to Jessica M. Moonflower for looking the chapter over! hugs Hope you guys enjoyed it, even if Darien's not in it. I know it's moving slow into the plot, but I don't want to rush into it either. Suggestions, critique, comments are always greatly appreciated. Happy Holidays!
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