Eris Vanserra Fanfiction-A Land Of Lavender And Thistle-Book One

CHAPTER VIII

Eris

I woke up to the sound of birds coming from above, lazy and weary with the hooting of an owl hearable in the distance. There was a strange kind of silence echoing through me and I felt like some big chunk of my being had been taken from me.

Sucking in a breath, I opened my eyes, moving my body by instinct. Only to groan at the dull ache bursting to life in my shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. It's best if you don't move for a while more." said a smooth female voice. "I barely patched that wound up."

Night was less than half an hour away, and the trees minimised the amount of sunlight slipping through the treetops. But, my vision was good enough in the dark to make out the female sitting a couple of feet ahead of me. She was easily one of the most beautiful creatures I'd ever seen.

Her skin was the color of molten chocolate, her eyes round and keen the color of mint morphing into pine-green toward the pupil. Her hair was noticeably curly, falling in a thick braid that reached almost to her waist, several loose strands framing her sharp face. Her tongue slicked over her full, rosy lips before her mouth tightened, making her cheekbones appear ever sharper. A skin-tight leather suit clad her lean body, filling every perfect inch. It followed the rich curve of her chest and clasped her narrow waist as she braced her back against the maple tree behind her.

My mesmerised state shattered when I realised what sat at each of her sides. On her left was sitting a gray canine of wolven features, though I knew it was too small in size to be a pureblood wolf. And on the other, shocking me to my core, was Axar, comfortable and at ease, his slender head nestled on her bent leg. The hound blinked at me, as if him being so tame around strangers wasn't the Mother's blessing.

The female began to pat both canines, her eyes steady as she watched me. 

"Who are you?" I glanced at my wounded shoulder, when I realised I was clean of weapons. Not a single blade was left. "Where are my weapons? What did you do with them?" I bit out, jerking my body toward her, then hissed as the pain activated in my shoulder.

She watched me with those sensuous eyes a moment longer. "Over there. I put them on your horse." I darted my gaze to the two horses grazing a dozen feet away, my white stallion calm around the black horse slightly taller than him. "I'm sorry, but someone with that many weapons in his possession," the female uttered when I looked at her, "I doubt you wouldn't know how to use it. Think of it as my self defense." she finished, scratching Axar under his chin and staring into his eyes.

It was just then, when the wind blew in my direction, that I felt her scent. It was potent, alluring and powerful, but nothing I have ever sensed before. Its rarity reminded me of the scents the Archeron sisters had, unfamiliar and unnatural.

"Did you bewitch him?" I said, looking between her and my hound with narrowed eyes. She blinked at me, clearly taken by my words. I curled my lip in annoyance. And worry, because no one could attain such control and obedience over the ghost hounds unless they were connected to the person in some way. And going by her scent, I feared what this female might be capable of. "Answer me!"

"Quite a demanding little thing, aren't you?" she said sweetly, the corner of her mouth kicking up and revealing a dimple. I felt a muscle in my jaw ticking. "But I must disappoint you, ginger boy, when I say I did not bewitch your dog. Nor do I see a reason why I should have. He is more than polite."

My eyes widened as I gaped at her. I felt anger flaring through me. But just my anger. Nothing more, regardless of the fact that my flames reacted at any rise of my emotions.

"What did you just call me?" I maundered.

There was a spark of amusement in her eye before she said softly, "Ginger boy," She canted her head then, as if to survey me a bit better. "Well, perhaps you are not a real ginger. Your hair is more red–"

"Enough!" I fumed. "Don't you recognise my face? Does the name Eris Vanserra mean nothing to you?" She glowered at me, the earlier mirth in her gaze replaced by disinterest. "The Prince of the Autumn Court? The destined heir to the–"

"I know who you are, ginger boy," she interrupted me, getting up on her booted feet and taking a few, long steps toward me before she crouched between my legs. I only saw the glint of silvery metal before a dagger's blade was pointed at my throat. "I just don't give a damn." she whispered, a half-smile blooming over her lips as she leaned in, all until her breath tickled my ear and I felt her other hand climbing up my right arm. "Not everyone will, Your Highness." she finished, pronouncing my title with mockery that made me urge my body forward …

I cried out in pain when her thumb dug itself into the wound. I felt the sting of the dagger as the blade pierced the skin on my throat and I smelled my own blood in the air. I wanted to move, to shove her on the ground and take over, but  she did not move her weapon from my throat, and her finger lifted off the injury only enough for me to feel the fresh blood leaking out. My breathing became ragged and wrath began to overwhelm me as I glared into her eyes.

"Do you always act so ungrateful, Your Highness, when someone saves your life?" she said quietly. When I only stared at her, her expression became more stern. "Look to your left." 

I hesitated for a second or so, then flitted my gaze to the side. There was an arrow laid out on a mossy log nearby, its tip stained in dry blood. 

My blood.

"See that arrow? It is poisoned with curare. It would have killed you in less than half an hour. If I hadn't found you when I did, and had I not known how to take the arrow out and mix up a cure," she said, putting her finger on my chin and making me look at her, "you would have been dead by now, little Prince."

"What do you want? A reward?" I said between my teeth. "Gold? Jems? Glory?"

Her gaze became more and more bored with each new word I said. In the end, she whistled and the wolfdog eased to his feet as she rubbed her bloodied thumb over my jakcet's sleeve. I barked my teeth at her, and she replied with a flash of a grin before swiftly stepping back and standing up. She sheathed her dagger and looked me over.

"In case you were wondering, I bandaged your wound with your shirt. The remains of it are in your saddlebag." Indeed. I could feel the cool silk of the waistcoat scrubbing against my bare skin, and the pressure of fabric around my right shoulder. "I did the best I could regarding the cleaning and healing. But I suggest you pay a professional healer a visit as soon as possible." she said, then winked as she clicked her tongue and her black horse trotted to her. Mounting, the female glanced down at my scowling face and smiled broadly. "I wish you a speedy recovery, ginger boy."

Then, with a nudge of her heels, she cantered away on her horse, with the gray canine running after them. I sighed, holding down my roar of rage before my eyes landed on Axar.

"What kind of a ghost hound are you? You're supposed to tear people like her to pieces!" I bit out, groaning when the wound stung again. "She had a blade at my throat, you fool. And you just sat there." The hound only shook his head and puffed. My stallion stomped his hoof and gave a snort in my direction. I bristled upon him, too: "You're no better!"

The sun was almost fully gone, its final rays bedecking the darkening sky, when I at last realised why my fire was so quiet. I grunted up and strode for the arrow before I snatched it from the log and stared at it in disgust, panic and fury.

Beron sent me out here. Axar didn't sense anything, nor did I. Yet I was sent here, and I got shot, almost killed had I not moved.

I leered at the arrow as the ash wood began to snap in my palm, my knuckles bleaching.

It was an ash arrow, poisoned with curare which would have eventually destroyed my lungs; ash wood to weaken me.

And faebane to nullify my power.