Civil Twilight

Chapter 3

Lyllian awoke on the oversized bed, fully clothed, on top of the ornate comforter in the same room she had been brought to the previous night; however, there was one significant change from the previous night - there was no vampyre in the room. The chamber was dim but the dying fire provided enough of a glow for her to find her way. Sitting up she smoothed out her dress and realized that her feet were bare and her old leather shoes were missing. She climbed down from the bed searching for her shoes and instead found a familiar looking pair of lilac slippers at the foot of the bed.

Irritated, she refused to slip them on, the carpeting on the floor keeping her feet warm enough for the time being. Unsure of how much time had passed; she peered out the drapes and was delighted to find the sun greeting her. With a flare of enthusiasm she threw open the heavy drapes; with ease the first and second parted welcoming the brilliance of the light into the room, but the third window closest to the desk was refusing to budge. She pulled at it harder and harder, and finally with frustration tried to yank it open with all of her might when suddenly it came crashing down, hitting the edge of the desk and sending papers everywhere. "Dang it!" she exclaimed in frustration, looking at the mess she had caused.

Curious, she picked up one of the papers still remaining on the desk but was unable to read the language in which it was written. She admired the beauty of the penmanship for just a moment before crumpling the paper in disgust and throwing it to the ground. She contemplated spilling the remaining contents onto the floor when a creak interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see him quietly shut the door and examine the situation before him. He stood inhumanly still near the door and regarded her quietly; he seemed neither angry nor upset as he stared at her. This increased her irritation and without another thought she moved to execute her plan, a heavy thud hitting the floor, and papers floating to the ground. She looked to him for his reaction, but there was none. He remained exactly where he was, his face neutral, his body completely still.

His lack of reaction caused her to become even more furious, and finally she yelled at him, "Why don't you DO something besides just stand there, looking at me vampyre!"

He continued to stand, still and silent as a statue, his face revealing nothing. She picked up one of his papers and walked within a few feet of where he stood, "You were working on this all night, whatever it was that was so important," she crumpled up another paper and threw it to the floor, "Are you going to do something or..."

She trailed off, unsure what else to say as she realized she was standing within feet of him, yelling into his face. He looked down at her calmly, inwardly surprised by the sudden show of spirit. His continued lack of evident reaction pissed her off even more, and she turned to continue destroying what she could when he firmly grabbed her arm, "I take it you didn't sleep well," he said in that same unusual accent, obviously trying to inject humor into the situation.

She whirled around, "Get your hands off me, you filthy vydierac!" she spat as she emphasized the last word, a common slander to his kind.

He chuckled to himself as he let go, "I see you have taken the liberty of re-arranging; however, there are better ways of organizing."

She wanted to hurt him, and without thinking she reached out to slap him but he grabbed her wrist and prevented her from doing so, "My you have a surprising amount of energy; however, perhaps it would be better spent on more agreeable activities," his voice was lighthearted as he smiled at her.

"DON'T touch me!!!" she barked again as she wrenched her wrist free.

She rubbed her wrist, which was still sore from her imprisonment, as she glared at him. "Now, if you are done perhaps you would like to join me for some breakfast. I'm sure you must be hungry," he said as he opened the door for her.

"I don't want to dine with you."

"I always considered it better to be dined with than dined on, but in either case its breakfast time. I'll let you decide what's on the menu," he said teasingly.

The blood drained from her face, unsure if he really was joking. She took a deep breath before responding, "I don't intend to willingly be your breakfast, kisértet," she said the last word, an even harsher insult to his kind, slowly.

Bewilderment briefly crossed his face before he recomposed himself; however, he did not retaliate at the derision. Silence stretched on between the two only to be interrupted by a sudden growl from Lyllian's stomach. The silence broken, he responded somberly, his tone was no longer of a teasing nature, "I'm not going to feed off of you. Now, slip on your shoes so we can go downstairs, breakfast is waiting."

"They don't fit," she stated to him as if she was pointing out the obvious and crossing her arms,

"Oh? Are you sure?"

She marched over to show him how wrong he was as she prepared to cram her foot into the uncomfortable thing once again. Instead her foot slid easily in, the slipper being a perfect fit. She stared at it in surprise and then slipped the other one on as if expecting it to be too small. "Come now," he said warmly.

She opened her mouth to refuse but was interrupted by another grumble, reminding her all too well of her hunger which was becoming more unbearable. Embarrassed, she didn't utter another word and instead followed him reluctantly into the hallway, her mouth already salivating at the prospect of food.

She followed him through the maze of the keep, noting the agility and silence in which he effortlessly took every step, the two of them eventually coming to a large banquet hall. A long dining table was set for the two of them, with one setting at the head of the table, and one to the left of it. Plates of fruits, nuts, breads, and some other foods Lyllian couldn't identify adorned the table. A servant came, held their chairs for them, and then proceeded to pour juice as Lyllian eyed the food trying to contain herself.

Lord Des'kar reached over and put a piece of fruit, a pear, onto her plate, "I know you are famished, but try and eat slowly," he cautioned before pulling his hand away.

She tried to keep her composure, but as her teeth sank into the soft, ripe skin and the juices flowed into her mouth she became lost in her desire and voraciously ate the fruit, nearly choking in the process. In her haste she ate the core with only the stem and dimple left in two separate pieces, "I think you've finished it," he said gently, reaching to pull it away.

She stared at him numbly as he pried it from her fingers and set the remains on her plate. Her chin was covered with juice which was also dripping onto her expensive gown. He reached over and handed her napkin to her, gesturing to her face; flustered she used the napkin to dab her face. He took another piece of fruit but did not put it on her plate; instead he began to cut up the round red fruit nimbly. She cautiously began to reach for piece of bread when his voice interfered with her efforts, "Not yet."

She pulled her hand back and glared angrily back at him. He chuckled quietly and then gave her the apple, now cut up into small pieces, onto her plate and set the core aside. At first she put them into her mouth and chewed as fast as she could, anticipating the next bite, but then came the same authoritative voice instructing her to slow down. With great effort and concentration, she was able to finish the remaining pieces at a more appropriate pace. Her hunger was beginning to subside, becoming more manageable. "Drink," he instructed next.

She hesitated a moment, then brought the glass up to her mouth; however, upon tasting the juice she no longer hesitated but drank greedily, spilling a little of the sweet fluid onto her dress. She set her glass down with an empty thud, grabbing her napkin and hastily wiped her mouth apparently not realizing it was also on her gown. He gestured towards her clothes, her face turning several shades of red as she dabbed at the leftovers which dampened the fabric. "I'm sure your hunger is appeased enough now to prevent you from making yourself sick. Please, help yourself," he gestured at the food spread before them.

She snatched a piece of bread, another piece of fruit, and a handful of nuts as another glass of juice was poured for her. Lord Des'kar meanwhile indulged in the brightly colored dish on the table. "This is frittata," he informed her, "try some."

He put a small portion on her plate which she eyed unenthusiastically. She ate the rest of her food first before delving into the mystery dish before her.  Poking at it before tasting it, she eventually ate a very small portion unsure if she liked the taste and mixture of textures. She took another bite, larger this time, and inspected the taste further before deciding it was tolerable enough to eat. "Next time perhaps we will have a more traditional Savanian breakfast."

Her hand froze on her glass as he emphasized the word Savanian. She gave him a dirty look and opened her mouth to deny it but he cut her off, "Don't try to refute it," he added, his voice dangerous, "I hate prevaricators."

She pulled her hand back into her lap, her heart racing as she broke out into a cold sweat, her mind racing on how to react, what to say. She swallowed hard before responding, her voice trembling as she spoke, "W-w-when..." she had a hard time finishing her sentence, "are you going t-t-to...k-kill-"

"I didn't say I was going to kill you," he responded in a cold unsympathetic tone.

"Then what are you going to do with me?" she asked meekly.

"I'm not sure yet, but I have no intentions on killing you," he took a moment before continuing, "Besides, one can't help where they are born, and it isn't a crime to be from a place; however, it does make you much more," he paused, trying to find the appropriate word before continuing, "intriguing."

"How did you..." she paused a moment and then rephrased her question, "Is it my accent?"

"Your accent? No," his voice was neutral once again.

"Then...." she trailed off, a perplexed look upon her face as she tried to figure out what it was that had identified her so easily.

His voice turned into one of surprise, "You really don't know?"

Silence confirmed she was ignorant of what it was she had done. He added icily, "Vydierac is a common enough insult towards my kind; however, Kisértet," he said the word slowly, enunciating it perfectly, "is generally a term only Savanian's use. You should have known that."

It was obvious she had realized she had made a very stupid mistake. She was too preoccupied with her fear to notice a servant was clearing the plates. She found herself unable to look away from him as he continued to glare at her. She eventually found relief when he finally broke eye contact and turned to speak to one of the servants in demarian, at which point Lyllian became aware of the fact, her plate was absent. His gaze once again returned to her, "You will need to go upstairs and change into a clean gown."


*                    *                    *


He ensured she returned to his room by escorting her there himself. Having discovered one of her little secrets, he understood a few of her behaviors better than the previous night; however, it also created even more questions and fewer answers. As they entered the room, the toppled desk and strewed parchment reminded him once again of the irritation and vexation she was unaware she had caused this morning. It had taken a great deal of constraint to appear neutral and calm prior to breakfast, but as he looked at the disorder before him once again he realized the whole situation was rather ridiculous.

He watched her survey the havoc she wrecked earlier with satisfaction, clearly feeling no remorse for her actions. He forced himself to appear unabashed at the disturbance she had caused, trying to appear friendly and lighthearted, "Ah yes, I forgot about the improvements you made earlier this morning," he bent down to pick up a crumpled up ball of paper she had carelessly thrown to the floor during her episode, "However, I think we may need to take them one step further."

It was evident she was holding her tongue, though it wasn't hard to imagine what she withheld from speaking aloud. He heard footsteps approach and anticipated the rap that sounded on the door, with the twins that had attended Lyllian previously waiting on the other side. "I believe you remember Mia and Mya, the two women who attended you yesterday. They are waiting to help you change."

Thankfully she didn't argue and instead left without a single word of complaint. Now that she was gone, he had to collect and re-organize all his letters, notes, and documents. He proceeded to accumulate everything into one small chest, preparing to move his study to an alternate location for the time being. As he righted the desk and as he picked up the ink pot, he noticed a dark spot on the expensive rug that did not belong. He swore profanities as he touched the spot, which was still wet to the touch. The stopper must have been loose...damn it!          

The rug had been a treasured gift from his step-sister, now ruined, making the girl suddenly seem more trouble than she was worth. Taking a deep breath, he set the jar down and began moving his study upstairs in the small room in the east tower. In truth he had always been fond of the east tower room, it was cozy and offered an outstanding view from the small window, and perhaps this was as good a reason as any to utilize it for the time being. Preferring to handle these particular possessions himself, he carried the small trunk upstairs to the snug little room and instructed one of the servants to see to it that the desk was brought up as well. He then returned to the room, repaired the curtain, and proceeded to lie on the bed as he pondered the mystery of the girl.

Upon first hearing her accent, he would have placed her in one of the regions well south of Demarak; however, he was still stunned over the discovery that she was from Sanavin, as it was the last place he would have thought she could possibly have come from. Considering Sanavins were highly intolerant of any races other than that of elves and terrans, he was puzzled by how she had managed to escape execution. Although terrans lacked the superior senses many other species possessed, the Mashari were known for their keen sense of auras and energies and he couldn't imagine she would have escaped their notice, even if she was mostly human. There was the possibility that she had had no interaction with the Mashari, but considering Sanavin was such a small country he couldn't believe that she would have gone her entire existence without having encountered at least one. There was more to her, he was sure of that.



**Author's Notes**
My husband says that Lyllian seems like such a little brat; he has no love for the main character. But she’s 12 years old! She is immature and has had no interaction with any race besides her own and by all accounts has been rather sheltered. She’s been taught her entire life to hate anything that wasn’t human (with the exception of the Sol Elves), and she is going to continue upon that tradition of what is considered the norm in her culture.

I tried to make it a point of demonstrating how different (and how much better off) Teldaeryn was over Sanavin by the food. The table is set with exotic fruits and nuts, some of which were probably quite a luxury for Sanavin to have if at all.