Chapter 3
Early summer of the third year. A distinguished guest arrived at the Ward residence. It was an envoy from Cirewen.
When word reached me in the back wing, my heart slammed against my ribs.
I knew. The man I waited for had come.
Gareth hosted a dinner in the front hall.
They summoned me as a dancer.
For the first time in three years, I prepared myself with care. I dressed in plain white silk.
A thin veil covered my face. Only my eyes showed. Flat and lifeless.
I entered the front hall blazing with light.
At the head table sat the man I sought.
He wore a black ceremonial coat with gold cloud embroidery.
A handsome face, deep-set eyes. He carried himself with more command, more regal authority than three years ago.
It was Julian.
He really did come.
His gaze swept over me, indifferent.
It did not linger.
It was as if I were another unfamiliar dancer to him.
I smirked to myself.
Of course, he didn't recognize me.
Three years of suffering had left me completely unrecognizable.
My body was covered in ugly scars.
After my serious illness, my voice turned raspy and harsh.
I was no longer the Mia Finch who used to trail behind him, flashing those charming, radiant smiles.
Music began.
I began to dance, moving slowly in time with the music.
I learned these steps from the house instructor.
My dance carried a coarse sensuality. Yet beneath them lay something else, a desperate, tragic beauty.
When the music ended, I sank to the floor and pressed my forehead down.
"Reward her," Julian said.
His voice was still as clear and cold as ever.
A guard walked up to me with a tray.
On it were a few dollars.
I didn't move.
Gareth, clearly annoyed, barked, "Bow and give thanks."
I slowly lifted my head, my gaze piercing through the veil, fixing on Julian.
I said, "I don't want your reward, my lord."
My voice rasped like sandpaper against wood. "I ask only that you step closer. And look carefully at my face."
Everyone in the hall was stunned.
Gareth's face darkened to an ugly purple.
He was about to explode with rage, but Julian raised a hand. "Bring her here."
His voice betrayed no emotion whatsoever.
I rose to my feet and slowly approached Julian.
Only three steps separated us now.
I could breathe in that cold, familiar fragrance lingering around him.
And in his eyes, I caught a fleeting flash of curiosity.
I slowly removed the veil from my face.
The veil slipped down.
The scars crisscrossing my face, along with the old bloodstains marring my dancer's dress, were exposed for all to see beneath the blazing lights.
A sharp intake of breath swept through the hall.
Julian's pupils narrowed sharply.
His knuckles turned white as he gripped his wine cup.
Wine spilled from the cup, dripping onto his official robes.
He fixed his gaze on me.
Shock and disbelief flashed in his eyes.
After a long moment, he finally found his voice.
His voice quivered as he spoke my name. "Mia?"
I smiled, barely lifting the corners of my mouth. "My lord. I trust you have been well."
My voice was so steady, it was like we were old friends catching up after years apart.
The next day, Julian came for me.
He stood before my decrepit quarters. "Do you hate me?"
I looked at him and smiled. "I do not hate you, my lord."
Hatred was too heavy a burden. Too costly. For someone who had already died once, no room for hatred remained. Only a barren wasteland.
Julian let out a sigh of relief and reached for my hand. "Return to Cirewen with me. The past dies here."
His tone carried the easy arrogance of a man handing out charity.
As if allowing me to return were the greatest mercy he could bestow.
I stepped back, evading his touch.
In that instant, all the color drained from his face.