Forced Into Tyranny

11: Two Worlds

Thevalon Castle,
The Alabaster Temple.

          As Lyra stepped into the hallowed temple, she caught sight of the man pacing near the altar with restless strides. When his eyes met hers and he came to a sudden halt, she took in his presence completely. He was sparsely dressed in a sleeveless surcoat and trousers, and the rest she beheld surpassed her expectations.
          Towering and possessing broad shoulders, his muscular physique resembled a sculpture crafted from unyielding stone. Faded scars embellished his arms, a stark contrast against his sun-kissed skin. And his countenance... Framed by dark, long hair shaved on the sides, boasted high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and slender lips. Yet, it was his eyes that called her as his gaze wandered over her, evoking a blush upon her cheeks.
          The man's eyes were a swirling storm of silver and slate, like a sky in the midst of a raging tempest. They were piercing and intense, unflinching in their scrutiny of her. But there was something else there too, something that belied the coldness of his gaze. It was almost as if a storm was brewing within him, a tempest of emotions that threatened to break through at any moment.
          "I thought you would not come," he said, a hard expression plastered on his face.
          "I had to find my father's pocket knife. That took my quite some time."
          From confusion to uncertainty, Raven's facial expressions traveled before it landed on recognition. Then he chuckled. "Even with an axe in your possession and none in mine, you stand no chance of survival if I want to hurt you." Surprising, her response was a smirk rather than fear.
          "What is your name?" She asked him now, still staying at a safe distance. A knife truly wouldn't stand in the way of his wrath if he deemed her dead.
          "Raven."
          "Like the bird?"
          He remained silent, perhaps because nothing else was as raven-like as the wise and aggressive bird. "Does that trouble you?"
          A smile entered her lovely lips as she moved two steps closer. "On the contrary, I've always envied the life of a raven."
          "You astound me." He shifted his gaze away from her, fixing his eyes upon the altar.
          Oh, the good gods, the man was ruggedly handsome, masculine, daring. Lyra knew nothing of a man, but was certain if left there with him alone for too long, she might know more than what was considered necessary for an unwed woman.
          On the opposite end of the Temple, Raven observed the divine countenances of the gods and the plates adorned with charred offerings. His gaze lingered on Korax, beseeching him for the wisdom to outwit his enemies. And she, standing before him, appeared delicate yet cunning enough to outsmart him, much like her father.
          "Your father is a monster," he said, attempting a different tactic to gauge her position. Was she a tyrant like her father, or a mere follower like the others?
          "Quite," Lyra confessed with unwavering resolve. His accent was even stronger that Hecuba's, drifted Lyra. Perhaps because he was a man with a kind of aggressiveness and assertiveness. "But not entirely so. Or perhaps I am blinded by my filial bond. As his daughter, I am expected to love and embrace him unconditionally."
          "And do you understand his actions?" The anger in Raven resurfaced, causing Lyra's resolve to waver. She carefully traversed the aisle and eventually halted before him, a pang of distrust and small piece of courage had slithered into her.
          "I am a woman, as you may have noticed back there in the corridor." She nibbled on her lower lip, attempting to steady its trembling. "I possess just as much influence over a man's life as you do within these castle walls. May I be cursed if I forget that the man in question is my father, capable of inflicting misery by arranging a marriage that would turn my tears into a never-ending river."
          Lyra, with a pounding heart, narrowed the distance between herself and Raven to a mere foot away, and she frowned. "Raven, I hold my father in high regard, but that doesn't imply that I comprehend or, worse, condone his actions."
          Raven was taken aback by her words. While he didn't take everything she said hook, line and sinker, he did think that her perception of her father was influenced by fear and nothing more.
          He glared into her mild blue eyes, shining like a pristine lake or even sapphires. Despite her resemblance to Pillus, whom he despised, she was undeniably a goddess in human form.
          The last time he beheld a woman with such determination was in Navaría, before his capture. The memories of her were faint, as he was just a young man at the time. Yet, the feeling... he knew it all too well. It was like the bond between a warrior and their weapon, or a blacksmith and their forge. To be precise, it was akin to the primal instinct that draws a beast to raw flesh. The longing to possess, to consume until there is nothing left.
          However, that yearning was fraught with dangerousness. The girl's innocence shone through her gaze, a testament to her lack of worldly knowledge. Moreover, who was he, a mere thrall, to dare approach the daughter of the man who stood next in lineage to their sovereign? He could not fail to recall that this man was his most formidable foe, a nemesis of great repute.
          Raven turned away from her, seeking solace by leaning against the weathered wooden altar. He rested his head upon it, hoping to unravel the tempestuous desires that swirled within him. His intention had been to assess her resolve by being alone with her in this sacred space, but instead, he found himself testing his own fortitude.
          The silence was shattered by the crackling of the fire from the walls of the temple, and then by the soft sound of Lyra's slippers as she took the last step to him. Her body pressed against his back, causing Raven to wilt like a rose under the scorching sun. The heat of her presence, the contours of her body against his, overwhelmed him. Her breath danced upon the back of his bare arm, her skin carrying the intoxicating scent of lavender intertwined with the delicate essence of peony.
          For a moment, he was frozen, unsure what to do. He felt trapped, held fast by her touch. But then, ever so slowly, he turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. There was a look in her eyes that he couldn't quite place, something he'd never seen before. It was a mix of emotions, swirling together like a storm brewing on the horizon.
          Eyes solid on his, she delicately traced her finger along his markings, following the path to the veins that stroked his lower arm, until she paused upon his scars. "You fight like a beast," she muttered, half surprised at the things she was hearing herself say. "You're enraged. I know a broken soul when I see one."
          In response, Raven swiftly withdrew his arm from her touch. "And I know an inexperienced woman when I see one."
          "You're not far from the truth," she continued, swallowing the disappointment that had crawled up her chest. "I do not know how to wield any weapon—"
          "I spoke not of blades and battle." Ignoring the cautionary whispers in his mind, he grasped her arm with a strength that exceeded his intentions. Her skin reddened under his touch, yet she seemed unfazed by the discomfort, her focus instead drawn to the abrasive timbre of his voice against her delicate skin and the earthy scent that enveloped him. "I spoke of your unfamiliarity with the ways of men."
          His gaze left her withered and confused. And even silent for a mere moment. Then, "You are no different from a politician, believing that words alone can sway anyone."
          "Lyra," he said so respectfully that she almost forgot he had not used her title, "you're as transparent as a sheet of glass." He smirked. "I see right through you. I see what exactly I should know, and I tell it how it is."
          With little left to say in her defense, she chose not to engage further, recognizing the man's unyielding nature in both his words and actions. As he released her hand, she finally felt the sting of his firm grip. Their gazes swiftly converged upon the spot, revealing a newfound trim encircling her arm. Unlike the golden bracelet on her other arm, this one gleamed in fiery red, a symbol of both longing and self-restraint.
          She sensed his remorse, and yet harbored no desire for him to feel regret. In a peculiar way, she found herself oddly drawn to the intensity of their exchange, hoping to preserve it as a lasting memory once he departed.
          Chuckling softly to diffuse the tension, she said, "Seems we have exhausted our time in bickering, have we not? I'm afraid you only have a few fleeting moments to ask your questions."
          Without hesitation, he resolved to pose his question. Trust was no longer a concern, for he had observed the compassion within her heart during their brief interaction. He believed that she would willingly share if Hecuba was enduring any form of mistreatment.
          However, before he could utter a word, the doors to the temple suddenly burst open, shattering the lock that held them in place. Lyra's heart was in her mouth when she turned to find a man that looked no different from Raven. Marked to the face and hair woven, he looked far deadly than Raven, though thinner.
          Raven swiftly moved Lyra aside, proceeding down the aisle. "Kriton!" He called out urgently.
          Kriton didn't bother sparing Lyra any glance because he trusted Raven would not be doing anything that could cost him his head in here. "The king seeks you, Raven. He seeks all of us," he explained with a tinge of delight. He mentioned a gift. It is time."
          Raven felt an immediate surge of joy as the news reached their ears. The king's mercy had been their fervent prayer, and now it seemed to be within their grasp. Their desires were crystal clear, and nothing would hinder their intentions.
          Without bidding Lyra farewell, Raven simply glanced back at her, leaving her in a state of surprise. Then, he followed Kriton, eager to seize the opportunity that awaited them.
          Lyra, caught up in curiosity, hurriedly chased after them to discover the nature of the gift. As she arrived, she found the king in the midst of delivering a speech. With bated breath, she observed the unfolding scene—the king singling out Raven from the crowd, and Raven boldly expressing their desire to venture beyond the Den at night, specifically to the Northeast Taverns and the bawdy houses across Rusthelm.
          The king's voice resonated through the hall, proclaiming it as a newfound privilege. Though they would always be supervised by at least ten guards, the warriors erupted in triumphant cheers. However, Raven couldn't spot Lyra amidst their merriment, as she had made her way back to Hecuba's chamber.
          To Lyra's surprise, Monima was seated on Hecuba's bed, gently soothing the girl's forehead. Before Monima could speak up her worries, Lyra said, "Three slices of watermelon, four of cucumbers, and two hard boiled eggs, please. Do not return until the cook completes the recipe. Thank you."
          Monima looked up at Lyra in surprise and anger, but quickly recovered and smiled. "Coming right up, My Lady," she said, and scurried out of the room. Lyra turned her attention back to Hecuba, and was surprised to see the girl's eyes open, a look of relief on her face.
          "That should take her some time to oversee." Lyra's mischievous smile appeared. The meal would end up in the garbage can because no one would eat it. Lyra had only used it to send Monima away.
          "Oh, Milady, I'm so glad you're here." Hecuba reached out to take Lyra's hand. "Are you unhurt?"
          "Yes. He posed no threat..." even though I stood no chance with my knife, she added silently.
          In the dimly lit room, Hecuba couldn't make out the irritated skin on Lyra's arm, which was probably for the best. "Take a seat. I'll fill you in on everything. All about Raven..."
          "A bird?"
          Lyra chuckled. "No, silly. Raven is a man, but he is just as fierce as the bird."

~~~

Thevalon Castle,
Lady Lyra's chambers.

          "Beware the wolf in sheep's clothing."The voice sounded like a harbinger of doom. "Come, Lyra, come and and see."
          "Who are you?" Lyra begged to know his name.
          Silence filled the air.
          The figure before her was cloaked, appearing more like a boy than a man. Extending his hand, he beckoned for her to follow. Lyra, with her ten toes exposed, cautiously trailed behind the mysterious boy, unable to catch a glimpse of his face. Eventually, they arrived at a quiet scene in the courtyard.
          The young boy stood in the courtyard, his eyes wide with wonder as another cloaked man — a swordsman — began his tutelage. Lyra watched as the man drew his sword with a flourish, the moonlight glinting off the blade. The man began to teach the boy the art of swordplay, moving with a grace that belied his years. The boy followed each movement with an eagerness that bordered on desperation. As he raised the sword in his own hands, he felt a thrill of excitement. Under the master's very proud eyes, the boy sent his sword into his heart like a traitorous son of whore.
          Lyra's scream escaped through her covered mouth, yet her eyes remained fixed on the lifeless body collapsing to the ground. As the body rolled closer to her, she caught sight of his face, and the shock jolted her back to reality from the nightmarish realm she had been trapped in. It wasn't a mere dream; she doubted it, for as a woman who often dreamt of unfamiliar places and people, she had grown accustomed to revelations.
          The sight of Deiotarus, the deceased king of Thevalon, in her dream troubled Lyra. Why would she dream of a man who was no longer alive?
          Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she threw off her covers and stood up, feeling the urge to seek solace in Hecuba's room. However, she hesitated, not wanting to disturb her friend who had already been kept awake by Lyra's tale of Raven. Instead, she paced back and forth, desperately trying to unravel the meaning behind her dream.
          Who was that mysterious boy?
          The voice was strangely familiar, but how? She recognized only a handful of men's voices - her father's, Thymotes', Kōgon's, the king's... and wait, no way.
          It was the voice she had heard three times now, after her defiance of staying away from the East window. It was him. A boy whose voice sounded like a harbinger of doom. The voice that constantly urged her to take the leap, that always warned her of hidden truths and deceit. However, in the real world, she had never actually heard him speak. She had only sensed it.
          He seemed to speak only those who he could trust, Lyra thought, because Hecuba and Monima had never heard it, even when she could hear his voice loudly.
          Something was amiss. Why did he hide his identity? And why did the girl jump, just as Queen Morgana had warned? Did she also hear the voices and succumb to the empty promises of revelation? Lyra was determined to uncover the truth. She had to.
          Pausing by her bed, Lyra remained restless and didn't fall asleep until the break of dawn. As the first rays of light filled her room, she summoned the chamberlains to prepare a bath for her.
          Hecuba found Lyra in her room, still dressed in her chamber linen. Hecuba was perplexed, as Lyra usually greeted the day fully dressed and ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
          "I won't be leaving my chambers today," Lyra replied. "I have some painting to do." She gathered her brushes. "But before I begin, I need your help with something."
          "Tell me."
          "You have been assigned to inquire with the guards stationed in this specific corridor regarding the chambers in question. I am interested in knowing the number of women who have resided here and the identity of the girl who leaped from the window."
          Hecuba's face said it all, yet she spoke it anyway. "Whatever do you need all that history for?"
          "The place is cursed," the girl said without shame. "I hear voices and see things that I should not see..." her mind wandered to the dream and she said, "Help me, or I too might jump off that window."
          "The gods forbid you from uttering anything about your demise, Milady." Hecuba immediately nodded. "I shall bring you news by day's end."
          "Thank you kindly." Lyra settled onto her stool, blending the paints she had written Thymotes to procure last eve. "You may take your leave. And should the Queen inquire of my whereabouts, inform her that I have fallen ill and am not receiving visitors."
          "You are aware that she will come here, are you not?"
          "Let her. She will assuredly find me within the confines of my bed."
          Stifling a laugh, Hecuba curtsied and departed to fulfill her lady's request.