1705. Luck had never been on Eleanora Finley's side. After her father died in a tragic fire, she was left at the mercy of her domineering and abusive mother, being deprived of all love and affection.
Truly, who would have thought that the simple red...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
1711, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
The billowing wind ran through Eleanora's loose hair, causing shivers to run down her spine. She pulled the cloak tighter around herself. The cloak was still warm from Nicholas's heat, and when she inhaled, the scent of sandalwood and musk assaulted her senses.
However, the warm, earthy notes were marred by the metallic stench of blood, like a rotting carcass in the middle of a rose field.
"Come, I will escort you back to your quarters," Nicholas said as he bent down to meet her eyes. "It is cold out here. You shouldn't stay out for long."
Eleanora felt the tears well up again, and a weak sound escaped her lips, but Nicholas could not tell whether it was laughter or a sob. "Do.. Do you kill people that easily?" she said in between hiccups. Her voice came out hoarse from crying so much, making his chest tighten with worry.
"With all due respect, Miss Finley, that bastard was hurting you. Am I supposed to let him live after what he had done to you?" Nicholas argued, his voice laced with distaste.
Upon hearing that sentence, Eleanora's gaze hardened, as if a wall had suddenly built up within her. "No," she replied shortly. "I am glad that he is dead."
The realization that her tormentor was dead finally dawned on her, and she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "He is dead, he is dead," she repeated to herself, as if she were savouring the moment.
Nicholas sighed softly as he reached out for Eleanora's cheek, and softly, he mouthed, "Allow me." Before she could even react, he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away the blood that had been smeared on her face.
Her heart thudded against her ribcage. "What are you doing?" she muttered under her breath.
"Helping you clean up," Nicholas said bluntly before reaching into the pocket of his shirt and fishing out a clean cloth.
He pressed the cloth to her cheek, cleaning up the blood, until it was no longer visible. Then, he tucked the cloth back inside of his shirt pocket, leaving his hand resting in its place. Eleanora's cheeks flushed, her face burning from embarrassment.
She looked up at Nicholas, meeting his steely blue eyes. He wore an unreadable expression, and there was a slight frown creasing on his forehead as he stared intently at her. His fingers lightly brushed against the edge of her jawline, but then, his movements came to an abrupt pause, and he retracted his touch.
Nicholas took a step back, clearing his throat and averting his gaze from hers. "Let us go back inside. It is getting colder." Nicholas's voice was quiet yet firm, and Eleanora nodded her head numbly. However, when she tried to stand up, her knees simply gave way and Eleanora found herself sprawled on the ground again.
"Be careful!" Nicholas admonished as he knelt down beside her.
"I will," she whispered, trying to get up again, but this time she managed to prop herself up on one elbow while keeping a hold of Nicholas.
