Chapter 9

To be truthful, I really enjoyed pissing Miranda Lawson off those first few days we were travelling. However, I did not enjoy when she began to acquire an attitude toward me and my general existence. I wanted so badly to say that without me, or someone as strong and as experienced in combat as me, this little mission of hers would never be possible. I was so tempted to say something cruel and along those lines, but I couldn't bring myself to.

Some part of me is getting too soft.

I suppose I need to work on that at some point soon.

But not if my travel companion keeps insisting on passionately attacking my lips with her own.

Then again, I don't think I should be so willing to oblige her, either. But who am I to deny a woman what she craves? Granted, she is a very attractive woman. Very attractive and aesthetically appealing.

I shake my head, dispelling the thoughts.

"We've been on this road for nearly three months, Miranda," I snap, my typically endless patience wearing thin. "When in the hell are we going to get to Illium?"

"We'll be there within the week." Her Anadian voice is absolutely emotionless. If I didn't know better, I would assume that this woman is a fake Miranda, not the one I've had as my constant companion.

"About fucking time."

The days passed by relatively quickly. We encountered no obstacles that we couldn't handle. The worst we had were bandits that tried stealing our supplies. Needless to say, they didn't succeed and I made absolutely sure of that. The most they would've gotten away with would have been their lives. If I hadn't taken them.

"I already have a pair of rooms arranged for us near the edge of the city," Miranda spoke up. "It's one of the most inconspicuous areas in Illium. The only issue we should have would be your notorious features."

"It isn't my fault that I'm so attractive," I tell her. "Nor is it my fault that I could be considered a goddess." I look at Miranda, who continues walking down the well-traveled road. There's still the sway in the woman's hips but she is obviously worn down. I notice a small part of me is concerned about her wellbeing. A part that I vehemently ignore.

A few hours later, as the sun is setting, we reach the city of Illium. Another beautiful city, much like the Citadel or Varris, but without so much political unrest. As I gaze at the vastly different architecture, I feel mild shock at how the engineers managed to create buildings all taller than twenty stories. Each building looked exactly like a gothic church, with soaring towers and vertically stretched windows. Every window was made from stained glass with a rainbow of hues. The panes depict various scenes from the Land of Light's history. From this far, I'm unable to see what panes show what, but I have a sinking suspicion that at least one frame has my face somewhere in it. The buildings that weren't scraping the sky were much shorter, ranging from just one floor to five floors. These smaller buildings are made completely from dark wood. The only way for me to distinguish these structures apart is the signs posted out in front of them. There aren't as many bars and taverns here as there are in Varris. I frown as I realize I'm somewhat out of my element. Insecurity begins to rise inside of me as I consider how out of place a Pirate Queen is in this area.

This is absurd. I'm the Empress of the City of the Wicked. This is absolute bullshit. I will not be cowed by these feelings inside me.

I approach the situation of intimacy with Miranda in much the same way.

"So where exactly is the room we're staying in?" I ask, after we wander through some of the streets on the outskirts of Illium.

"A small hotel named Nos Astra," Miranda replies after a time. The woman had retrieved a small, leather bound book from her pack to look at a piece of old paper. Probably trying to find the address so we don't get lost. "It should be just around the next corner."

"Isn't that something?" I mutter under my breath.

"What was that?" Miranda asks, looking over her slender, leather-clad shoulder at me. One of her eyebrows is quirked.

I decide to have a little fun.

"Nothing, dear," I tell her, a sickly sweet smile on my face.

The brunette quickly tears her glacier blue eyes away from mine and faces forward once more. A smug smile spreads across my lips.

Pushing through the throng of people, we reach our destination quickly. Nos Astra is one of the taller wooden buildings, standing roughly the same height as Inferno. However, that is where the similarity ends, rather abruptly I might add. The building itself is bland; the only adornments being the wooden sign with Nos Astra painted in blue with an outline of green and the deep blue wooden door.

She expects me to stay in something this small? This woman is out of her fucking mind. I have more wealth than this entire city thrown together and I'm forced to stay in some run down place on the outskirts of a merchant city. Then again, I don't necessarily have to stay here. I could abandon Miranda to her hopeless cause of shielding her sister from their jackass of a father.

But why would I do that? Miranda obviously cares enough about her sister do try and save her from their overpowering father. I've been in that situation before. I know what it feels like to have a controlling parent that refuses to loosen their grip on you. Miranda is a good woman. She doesn't deserve to do this alone. And, as much as it pains me to admit, I've grown somewhat fond of the brunette with the exotic accent. That small part of me that I think is getting too fluffy wants to remain her by her side, even if it's just to finish up the business we have here. As foreign and out of character as it may sound for me, I decide to go with that small part, just this once.

Miranda leads the way as we walk into Nos Astra. Inside, it is cleaner than my own apartment, which is something that is really hard to accomplish. The black tile floors of the long hallway I'm greeted with gleam in the warm lamplights hanging from support columns. A short man with mud brown hair and eyes stands behind a counter, looking quite bored. He looks like he's examining a year old copy of some art book. Probably naked women sprawled in various poses. I've half a mind in joining him.

Miranda walks over to him and quickly says something in a language I don't quite understand. I decide to occupy myself with looking at the décor, which isn't much. A few paintings plastered in bland frames decorate the walls. Some depict a mountain range, others something I can't even begin to describe. The walls themselves are the same color as the walls outside, a deep brown that has absolutely no life to it.

"I have our room," Miranda says from behind me. If she was expecting me to jump, she should be sorely disappointed and ashamed for even trying.

"Fantastic. Now let's go and get situated for the night."

We wander down the main hall, which is decorated exactly the same as the foyer we were just in with the concierge. There are at least fifty doors, all black, on either side of the hallway. The only way for them to be distinguished from each other is the silver plate with numbers scrawled on them. At the end of the hall is a small, spiral staircase carved from the same material as the tiles on the floor. We take the stairs up to the third floor, which looks identical to the first and second floor. They should have let me design this place. I could've given it so much character. Maybe I should rule this city instead of Varris, and give this place some life. The entire place needs some, that's for damn sure.

No, never mind that. I could never leave the city I've called home for over three hundred years. But I could add it to my empire…

"Here we are," Miranda announces. "Room 304."

The brunette unlocks the door with the key she holds and she steps inside, me right on her heels. I catch a whiff of her scent, a pleasant mixture of roses and vanilla that temporarily brings memories of us passionately kissing in that cave all that time ago. My body begins to grow hot in response to that course of thought and I ignore it, stuffing the recollection back into the far corner of my mind. I'll deal with that later.

Inside is a room as bland and tasteless as the hallway it connects to. It's an open floor design, aside from a secluded room which I assume is for personal needs. There is a bed located near the window that looks out onto the crowded street below. A small kitchen is situated to the right of the doorway, with tile floors and a stone chest filled with ice. The counters are made from stone and black granite. A wooden stove is nestled in between an open space between the counters. So far, it actually isn't as bland as I thought. A leather couch is located in front of the stone fireplace, which is dark. A stack of wood rests near it, just waiting to be thrown into the pit.

"I'll sleep on the bed," I announce as I toss the cloth sack I've been carrying over my shoulder for two months down. I kick off my boots and lay down on it, slightly disappointed that it isn't my own mattress back home.

"That's extremely unfair, Aria," Miranda protests, her thin brows knitting together in irritation.

"Would you like to join me?" I ask, raising my own eyebrows. I pat the blue quilt next to me. "There's plenty of room."

Miranda simply ignores me and lights the fireplace by striking one of her knives against a small rock she found lying near the fire pit. When she gets the fire going, she walks past the bed and draws the cloth curtains closed, blocking out the city lights.

As the warmth from the fire begins to seep into the room, I feel my eyelids drift shut. However, I do not go to sleep. I don't even entertain the thought until there isn't any more rustling going on from Miranda.

Despite being somewhat exhausted from the trip, my mind seems to be wide awake. Wide awake and eager to return to that incident that occurred in the cave.

I choose to entertain those thoughts once I am sure that Miranda is asleep.

I think about how a very large part of me gets a thrill at being anywhere near the feisty brunette. The very fibers of my body grow warm and tingle whenever we touch, however infrequent that is. I admit to myself that I crave her presence, even if we end up bickering. I think that I would prefer that than nothing at all. I have indeed grown fond of Miranda Lawson, which is rather alien for me. Not in over six hundred years have I felt this way about anyone. The last person I cared about died in a fiery eruption in Terminus, a country neighboring the Land of Light. It's an extremely hostile environment, volcanoes constantly erupting, the sky always tinged red and cloudy with ash. The very ground is unstable from all the tremors that the volcanic eruptions cause. That was a very dark time for me, a time where I had let love and similar emotions cloud my thinking and throw a decent person's life down a hole in the earth, literally. I had sworn to myself that never again would I let myself fall in love. It's truly a pointless emotion and feeling. I see no reason that it exists, aside from hurting people when it is unrequited.

It has been centuries since I've felt the way I do now, but I immediately recognized the signs of caring about someone in the way that I did so long ago. I don't try to fool myself into thinking the signs are something else. I'm not stupid and will not act like all of those other headstrong women who think they won't fall in love again.

I snap my eyes open, staring at the wooden ceiling above me. I just accepted that I am falling for Miranda Lawson. Utterly ridiculous, yet the truth. I'm fucked. Not literally, to my dismay.

I roll over and gaze at the sleeping woman. Her strong features are much more peaceful than they are during the day. Every muscle in her face is relaxed, making her look much younger than she really is. Since I'm being brutally honest with myself, I admit that she has an ethereal beauty about her, something Jona Sederis, my old lover who died, could never compare to. The way her dark hair complements her pale complexion seems like some master artist conjured her straight from his painting. Her figure is certainly nothing she should be ashamed of. She is curvaceous, but not to a sickening degree. In the cloth shirt and plain shorts, there is little left to my imagination. I remember feeling her body flush against mine, how we seemed to fit perfectly together. It is a sensation I am absolutely willing to feel again.

Before I know what I'm doing, I find myself standing next to where Miranda is lying on the couch, her head and feet propped up on the arms. I know it has to be uncomfortable for her to simply lie there. Her neck will definitely be aching in the morning.

I decide to scoop her up in my arms, bridal style, and carry her to the bed. Her body is surprisingly heavy, even without her armor. I'm astonished at how she manages to sneak around places with that much weight. She certainly doesn't show it anywhere on her body. I gently set her down on the side closest to the window. I tuck her into the covers, once again marveling at how I just tucked a woman, who's tried on numerous occasions to kill me, in bed. I shake my head at the realization but do not protest it. If she were awake, that would be a completely different situation.

I lay down on the opposite side of the bed, laying on top of the quilt that covers the mattress. I keep my distance from Miranda's sleep prone form as my eyes drift shut once more, this time with the promise of sleep.