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I step closer to her, and she tilts her head back slightly to meet my gaze. I keep my expression controlled and devoid of emotion despite the flicker of excitement that is coursing through my body. The space between us diminishes as I pull her to me, cupping her jaw with a gentleness that surprises me.
I bring my face close to hers. Her warm breaths are slow, panting whispers on my skin. "Very good," I murmur, the words sending a spark of feeling long-suppressed to my core.
My lips brush against her in a delicate act, a contact that is both final and fleeting. The kiss is not one of passion but of obligation, sealing our fates together in the eyes of those we despise. It’s a promise of unity to the world and a declaration of our pact with each other. Nothing more.
However, it is truly anything but. The softness of her lips against mine sends an unfamiliar sensation coursing south of my body as she parts for me sensually and demurely. I'm tempted to explore her. The prospect of getting lost in her taste is unexpected.
Instead, I pull away, deeming the ritual completed as Jasmine stands dazed, flustered, and frozen, looking at me for our next move.
6
JASMINE
“So, Jasmine,” Karul starts, I look up from the table where my eyes have been focused. “In the coming days, we’re going to have to spend a good amount of time getting to know each other.” He says matter-of-factly.
He tips a glass of red wine to his lips as he finishes.
“Okay,” I say obediently, as he expects. Aside from that, I don’t know what else I can say. Sitting here in his massive dining room is making my head spin. My chest is tight, and my body feels out of place. It’s going to be difficult to figure out my escape if he’s going to constantly be around.
“Also, I’m getting married a week from now.” He laughs cruelly as he throws back the rest of his wine.
Married?
I thought I was confused before, but now I really don't know what to think.
“How is that possible?” I ask.
“Oh, It was arranged,” he says nonchalantly, waving his hand as he waves down a servant to bring him more wine. “It won’t happen though. I married you to crush the hopes of my clan,” he says, letting out another cynical laugh.
The dining hall of Karul's manor is a tomb of shadows. Candles flicker like the last gasps of life in a dying world. I sit across from him, his platinum hair a stark contrast against the darkness that seems to cling to every inch of him. The smell of roasted meat and herbs wafts from the kitchen, but it does little to soothe the tightness in my belly.
"So, tell me, Jasmine," he begins, his voice is smooth like velvet yet edged with something dangerous, "what is your favorite color?"
"Green," I reply, my voice a whisper lost in the vastness of the room. "The color of the forest." It's true; I used to dream of being lost amongst towering trees rather than being trapped behind the walls of the auction house.
"Ah, green..." He smiles slightly, and there's a flicker of something genuine in it. "It is the color of life. Mine is black. Like the night sky on Orthani."
His answer sends a shiver down my spine, but not from fear. Black is the color of oblivion, of the unknown depths where secrets are kept, much like Karul himself.
"What food do you like most?" I decide to ask, trying to steer away from thoughts of dark skies and darker intentions.
"Fresh bread," he answers promptly, and that surprises a half-smile out of me. "With a slice of aged cheese. And you, Jasmine? Do you have a taste for sweets?"
I hesitate, feeling like every question is a prying finger in my soul. "I... used to love honey cakes," I admit, recalling a distant memory of sticky fingers and laughter before the auction house stole my freedom.
"Then we shall have honey cakes for dessert," he declares, ringing a small bell beside him. I notice again the crude necklace around his neck. He's absentmindedly touched it a few times over the course of the night. I wonder if he even knows he does it.
"Are there things you hate?" he probes, his voice is surprisingly gentle. "Chains," I say, narrowing my eyes. "And the men who think they can own me."
"I understand," he says sincerely. "I hate cruelty. My father was... harsh. He believed power was shown through dominance."
I can see the pain and bitterness in his eyes as he speaks of his father, and I find myself feeling a sense of kinship with him.
"Dinner arrives, roasted suru with crispy rosemary burgonas, sautéed cryots in frisse butter, and fijus puree. The aroma fills the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation despite my unease. We eat, exchanging polite conversation that feels like a thinly veiled dance around the true reason for my presence here. Despite his reputation, he seems different from the other men. More genuine and sincere.
"Jasmine," he starts, his voice barely above a whisper as the servants leave us alone with the impending night. "You should know, I... I am not like the others. What happens between us—it will only be once if that is your wish."
His words catch me off guard, and I look at him with surprise. Can I believe him?
