Two figures stepped forward from the night. One a man; the other a young girl of perhaps sixteen.
There was silence. Kaspar was the first to break it. ‘Violet, this is His Royal Athenean Highness, Prince Fallon,’ he introduced shakily. ‘And forgive me, Lady Sage, for I do not know your name.’
The girl stepped forward to curtsey and for the first time I caught site of her face.
‘Autumn Rose, of the House of Al-Summers, Your Highness.’
Stillness fell upon the clearing. The girl, if she was a girl, stood bathed in the light from the moon, a cloak around her shoulders, the hood thrown back to reveal long, golden blonde tresses, tightly curled and streaked with warm honey and auburns. Her skin was ashen and pale, although a few fading freckles adorned her left cheek only, because her right cheek … no, her entire right side was coated in an intricate, waving, swirling pattern of scars. Strokes of colour, raised like ribbons of twine spun a web across her skin, twisting and spiralling as raised veins of yellow, orange, ochre and red, darker across her neck, lighter as they encircled her face, gold as they reached her forehead until they faded into nothingness on her left.
Her companion, Fallon, stepped forward and her eyes, liquid amber in colour flickered towards him for the briefest of moments, as though seeking reassurance. They quickly returned, where they surveyed the clearing with marked caution.
‘Autumn?’ Kaspar choked. ‘Wow, I didn’t recognize you. You’ve grown. And you’re Du—’
‘Forgive me, Your Highness,’ she cut in, near singing, her voice sweet and pleasing to the ear like music; entrancing. But even through that I could hear that she spoke with a very pronounced British accent; a posh one. ‘I have not had the pleasure of your company for nigh on three years. I have grown much in that time. And I would be obliged to you if you did not use that title.’
I sensed the tiniest hint of sarcasm, so subtle I might have imagined it. Her hand clenched and unclenched as she said it, and her lips, full and pink, twitched like she was irritated but trying to hide it. She was not entirely comfortable speaking of her body either – a light blush tinged her cheeks and she pulled her dark cloak a little tighter around her middle where it had fallen open. Beneath its folds I could see that her hips were rounded, her waist tiny and her chest … full, to say the least. Her legs were clad in a pair of dark tights, ripped and laddered, worn underneath a pair of loose shorts and a dark tank top. Her boots, lace-up and calf-high were coated in mud.
I stared openly at the curious marks upon her skin, feeling a tiny pang of jealousy as Kaspar gawped at her. Suddenly, her gaze met mine for a moment, questioning, before she averted her prominent almond eyes, slightly pinched so they slanted up at the outer corner, and looked timidly towards the ground. But I felt that in those seconds she had looked on me with as much curiosity as I did her.
‘Well, you never were much good at introductions, Kaspar,’ Fallon, said, stepping forward and grasping his hand in a hearty handshake. Kaspar returned it, meekly, still dazed and shocked by their appearance if my own emotions were anything to go by. For the first time I turned my eye towards him. Kaspar had introduced him as ‘His Highness’ and he was clearly on an equal footing with Kaspar – he had not bowed.
He was certainly handsome, despite the strange markings that he also bore. His skin was tanned; a total contrast with every other occupant of the clearing. His scars were a deep blood red, burgundy and russet, and creeped as much as they swirled, whilst his eyes … his eyes were the most electric shade of cobalt blue I had ever seen; brighter than Fabian’s even. His hair, flaxen and dark blond in colour flopped messily over his forehead, unkempt and untidy. Around his throat there hung a shark tooth on a leather thong, framed by the open collar of a dark grey shirt; and over that he wore a black V-necked jumper. He also had a cloak.
Neither was like anything I had ever seen. They were ethereal. And from both of them radiated tingling warmth: a dancing, shimmering heat encasing their figures in intense energy, so compelling I could see why the vampires feared these strange creatures.
The Sage.
His gaze glided towards me, where it settled as he slowly approached. Cain edged aside to let him through, eyeing him warily. The tight circle that had surrounded me broke and Fallon came to a halt in front of me.
‘We’ve met before I believe, Miss Lee.’ He stooped down to take my hand but I snatched it away, not wanting to touch his, particularly where it was marked. I remembered well when I had heard his voice before, just two weeks ago. It seemed far longer. It had been before we had left for London, just as the council had been gathering for a meeting about my fate – amongst other things.
He seemed taken aback by my reaction and turned towards Kaspar, something like surprise written in his strong features. ‘You followed through the council’s instructions then?’
Kaspar nodded sternly. ‘We told her nothing.’ His eyes searched for mine, and all the doubt and jealousy ebbed away. His eyes, white from fear just a minute ago were now their natural vivid emerald, and I took courage from their colour.
Slowly, I offered my hand to Fallon and curtsied. To my surprise, instead of shaking my hand, he took it and lightly kissed my knuckles. Immediately, a spark ignited where his lips touched my skin, throbbing before it hurtled through my veins, sending a chill up my spine; distracted, every wall, every barrier around my mind seemed to fall away and a foreign conscience invaded mine. I hastily tried to throw barricades back up in defence but it was useless and instead threw my efforts into the lock around my father’s box. The musical mind of this creature was in mine, and carelessly sifting through images of my life like an album, pausing at those concerned with the vampires.
Then as quickly as he had come, he was gone. I returned to the present in time to meet Fallon’s eyes, twinkling with intrigue.
‘Yet you told her about the Prophecy of the Heroines,’ he said, turning to look over his shoulder at Kaspar, my hand still in his.
It was a statement, not a question and Kaspar, floundering, looked from my wide-eyed expression to Fallon’s small smile.
‘You were in her mind?!’ Kaspar spluttered, a look of outrage crossing his face.
Fallon chuckled. ‘Curious, Kaspar, just curious.’
Kaspar, appalled, took a step towards Fallon and the girl, Autumn Rose. Even in the gloom I could see his eyes flashing dangerously black.
‘You cannot just arrive here and enter our minds at liberty, Fallon. At a time like this I should have you locked up and brought before our council for invading Violet’s mind; if it were not for your title I would ensure you were dragged there.’