2 — THE REVOLTING RETURN

TWO

Verēna's peach lips pursed, yet restrained herself from frowning to not give away the repulsion sitting in her stomach. Fortunately, with practice impassiveness, she had managed to throw a curt nod to a pair of male dignitaries that claimed to be under the Minister's covert directive of fetching her from Ariath Clan's harbor. The one with long, straight silver hair cascading down his waistline was smiling down at her amiably, while the other with a close-cropped blonde haircut regarded her with a firm nod, watching her in scrutiny. Both appeared to be in their early to mid-thirties and well-built, but not overly muscled.

She didn't miss the similar simple silver circlet adorning their head, and the matching fine ivory robes with swirling silver intricate embellishments. Under it, they wore black silk shirts with a low v-cut neckline. Down to the, no wonder, finest leather boots where the rest of their dark trousers were tucked inside, up until to the tip of their hairs and the regal confidence both emitted like a viper slithering her neck, Verēna wouldn't argue that they were indeed who they claimed to be.

There was one problem though.

Why would the Minister send a secret escort party?

Andromeda's unusual chirpy voice cut her off her trance. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed that the youngest disciple pulled the hood of her green cloak further down, enough to conceal her face from the unexpected strangers, and just enough for her to clearly see her face from her still sitting position in the boat. Verēna's brow quirked up in silent question.

"Let me have your bedchamber while you're away," Andromeda incessantly nagged from the past two hours that they left Zathras.

Grunting, Verēna should have known that she wouldn't mindlessly come to send her off without gaining something in return. Not that she asked her to. It was Andromeda who insisted, begging Hestia for she, as the young conniving one claimed, would dearly miss her on the days that'd come. Hestia, of course, knew the truth, but Verēna figured out years ago that the Seer had twisted humor. The Seer made it sure to at least tick her off every single day through Andromeda. She shook her head in disbelief. She should have seen it coming. But then and again, things were always muddled when it involved the Seer.

Slightly pulling back her black hood with laced coveralls so that Andromeda could clearly see her expression, Verēna dropped the bomb with a straight-faced.

"No."

The young one sucked in a deep breath, face distorting to an awful frown, pouting as she harrumphed in the process and turned around, grumbling of how spoilsport she was.

Verēna stifled a laughter and whirled back her attention to the strangers only to be met with an outstretched hand. Tracing its owner, her eyes connected with the silver-haired dignitary who flashed her a genial smile.

"Let me help ya up here, m'lady." Even his voice was as warm as he appeared.

A tempting offer, she wickedly thought. Her hand twitched in her lap, more than eager to let the stranger taste a small dose of what he was blindly asking for. For a fraction of second, Verēna almost considered it only to be ruined by a low, warning growl. The man retracted his hand in an instant and spun around, highly alerted. Only then did she realize her raised bare right hand, suspended midair.

"Verēna," growled by a familiar face. His onyx eyes silently berating her of the atrocious act she could have committed had he didn't jump in the last seconds.

"Kise," she acknowledged the scowling giant muscled shifter with a suppressed grin.

No used. She was certain the sadistic gleam in her eyes gave her away.

The Seer's seven-footer familiar stalked towards her with a graceful walk of a black panther to which he was. Verēna watched with amusement as Kise excused himself from the silver-haired who tilted a head in confusion. "Forgive me, my lord," his voice sounded a bit awkward at the formality, "as much as we'd appreciate your kind gesture, I'm afraid you simply cannot touch her mindlessly."

Perplexed, the silver-haired dignitary shifted his narrowing eyes between Kise and her.

Oh, the poor lamb didn't know.

Verēna inwardly reveled at the realization, but Kise's growl snapped her out of it. She clicked her tongue, eyes straying to the other dignitary who was watching the entire act in dead silence at the back. Their gazes met. Verēna, not to be easily intimidated, held his scrutinizing gaze until he broke away first; lips were drawn in a straight grim line.

She need not to guess what could possibly a man with great stature and strength had his mere gaze relented from a seemingly fragile being. She need not to know for she had always stared at it ever since she had reluctantly conceded her vengeance in exchange for her present life.

A pair of haunting, soulless eyes that would only lit up at appalling thoughts. He must have seen it as well; the look in his apprehensive eyes told her so.

"Come on." Kise's callous hand reached down to her.

She grabbed his tan forearm without a second thought and Kise grasped the inside of hers in return, earning a quizzical look from the silver-haired dignitary the moment she was hefted by the dock and the Seer familiar was left unscathed.

Saving the puzzled man from asking, Verēna went on. "If touched by whom I didn't wholeheartedly trust would be like a toxic acid to such person's skin," she placidly explained. "Forgive me, my lord," she wasn't, "I forgot for a moment." She would never.

A convenient rite of passage sprung as the mark of her discipleship's second year. A Seer's Blessing. One which kept them safe at all cost due to their divine significance to the land as the bridge to the gods. The Seer's Blessing usually took form as a reflection of one's soul deepest and truest desire. To say that it came out as a surprise when hers inflicted excruciating pain at the slightest brush of skin was a downright lie. A perfect manifestation of the repressed vindictive soul behind the iron bar of her subconscious. She couldn't ask for more.

Silver-haired eyes briefly widened at the confession. Gone was the openness he exuded, now replaced by guarded stance. A look of dry accusation crossed his gentle features but made no further comment about it anymore.

Not that she care though. It would somehow serve as a lesson that not everyone who appeared to be fragile needed a helping hand. Sometimes, they were the ones who could move a mountain. The upset silver-haired man must take note.

Kise stepped forward, taking the reign of conversing with the Nemiahn dignitaries. Smart familiar. His heightened emphatic sensitivity backed up with years of familiarity drew him to a conclusion that if he left her to do the talking, either of the two would be in deep trouble. And she to the Seer.

She shrugged her shoulders and scanned the misty port. The fog covered most of the area, saved for the spot where their rowing boat docked. A typical setting in Ariath's early mornings.

Somewhere over the thick haze, she could make out distant shouts amidst the churned and creaks of ships. Most of it sounded like Arian fishermen in their usual merriment. She frowned, glaring at Kise's broad back. He berthed their boat in an inconspicuous part of the harbor. Her insides churned in disapproval. Her squinted eyes flickered among the conversing men.

As if sensing her growing agitation, Kise's attention went over hers with a sigh. His gruff voice, grating her ears, at odds with his thoughtful expression. "Nothing to be upset, Verēna. Only a handful of people was informed by your sudden arrival. We're not sneaking you in."

Sneaking into Grevus as if she was once again running like a fugitive. She despised the thought just as much as how she hated being sent back to run an urgent errand for the Seer. One thing though . . .

Sudden arrival?

Her right eyebrow arched. The phrase stood out among Kise's obvious attempt of appeasement as she recalled what the two dignitaries told her earlier. The parchment securely tucked in underneath her ankle-length black-laced cloak seemed to gain weight at the idea brewing in her mind. She refused to entertain the nagging nudge of her subconscious but to no avail. The sensation akin to a gut feeling─only to be always scarily precise─settled in. The fat chance of ruling it out as flawed was near to naught.

Her anger bubbled down. The idea of running away was strong and tempting. If only she could board the boat back to Zathras again.

Kise must have sensed her wavering resolution and rest a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and offering her a reassuring smile. "It'll be fine, kid."

Verēna gritted her teeth.

She damn hoped so.

* * * * * *

Verēna already missed Andromeda's nagging. For once, she was ready to admit it out loud if it only meant escaping from the awkward company of the equally wary pair inside the hustling carriage. Her neck began to stiffen from craning her head outside the window; feigning to pin her interest over the ever-shifting sceneries of quaint villages and rural towns they'd passed by from the last four aching hours. Even the vast expanse of pastures filled with running livestock which they were currently passing by had started to bore her. But it was a much better option rather than making eye contact with her companions seated across her.

The silver-haired man was already apprehensive to start another conversation again after she shut him up with a mere glance. The blonde one was nowhere near warming up to her either. Verēna only wished he'd already drop the glare he was aiming at her ever since they moved along. For goodness' sake, the man seemed already out to get her head for a heinous crime she didn't even commit!

Yet.

Another thing that bugged her. Blonde reminded her of someone she knew from the distant past.

Racking her memories for the last hours didn't help. Not that it held any significance to the present, though. Her past life ought no sentimental bindings to her anymore. It was all in the past. All in the past.

"Pardon me for asking."

Verēna's shoulders tensed up at the startling baritone voice. Her attention flew towards the glaring blonde, eyes mentally rolling at the unmistakable distrust whirling in his electric blue eyes. The man flinched when their gazes clashed. She fought to keep herself from snorting.

Keep your emotion always in check.

Kira would be so damn proud of her.

"Go on, my lord," she urged. Silver-haired man was now eyeing them both.

"Were you somehow related to the late Priamos Lavine?"

Her world ceased from moving. Stiffed neck was forgotten. Restless neighs of the horses pulling the carriage grew louder and the coach yelled a panicking "ho". Gradually, the carriage skidded to an abrupt stop that sent her companies lurching forward. Verēna, however, remained in her exact position, barely disturbed by the commotion.

The caught off guard dignitaries righted themselves up in an instant and went out to check.

Silver-haired man shot her a concerned glance before joining Blonde outside.

Something shuffled inside her cloak, creeping into her forearm until a round head with unkempt hazel curls peeked at its opening by her shoulder blade. Tiny cold hands reached up to her cheeks and the restless neighs of the horses gradually stopped.

"Have mercy with the poor animals, gyun," said the little creature in its usual shrill, high-pitched voice.

Verēna stared blankly at the little creature who fluttered down in her lap. It vainly smoothed the mess of a thing called hair, but the stubborn locks kept returning to their original state. The li'l creature groaned in defeat. Its cat-like russet eyes fixated on her, glowering; tiny arms on its waist.

"You almost slip again, gyun!"

Her brow quirked up at the little Jeix's comical expression at the end of every statement. It never failed to amuse her. It reminded her of a squeaking stuff toy Miran gave to Andromeda for her ninth birthday.

Seemingly reading her train of thoughts, the no more than three-inch winged creature's face reddened. "Stop that! You could have killed us all, gyun!" It flew to level her face, tiny hands making swift gestures.

"Apologies, but I don't know what you're talking about, Del." She tilted her head, feigning innocence.

Before the Jeix could even explode just like how their conversation always ended up, a loud clearing of throat interceded. The dignitaries laid standing outside the carriage, seemingly waiting for them to finally notice their presence. A high-pitched squeal sounded as the little Jeix frantically flew by the opposite corner, white as sheet, sweating cold, and big feline eyes at the verge of bulging out of its socket.

"Hu . . . hu . . . H-human men!" It further backed up against the carriage wall in a vain attempt of making itself much smaller.

"Fascinating," Silver-haired mused as he leaned forward by the transport's door, a hand under the chin while perusing the visibly shaken creature which seemed about to pass out anytime soon. "A Jeix in a flesh, Nuallan. Look at those glittery, transparent wings. You're so tiny, you'll fit in a jar! What's your name li'l one?" he rambled on, oblivious to its anxiety.

Much louder squeak and eyes rolling backward. The imp reached its limit and lost consciousness the moment Silver-haired stepped inside.

Lips tightening to suppress a laughter, Verēna cleared her throat, catching the puzzled Silver-haired's attention. "Her name is Del. Their kind is not that much fond of . . ." she trailed, mentally smirking at an idea grazed her mind, "socializing."

Realization dawned at his expression. He gently scooped the unconscious creature and rested it on his palms before taking the seat across hers again. Blonde followed suit. The carriage started moving forward again.

Silver-haired watched Del in astonishment, grey eyes twinkling as if a child who just unboxed an exotic present.

"Mavi," Blonde chided.

Silver-haired immediately snapped out of his reverie and outstretched his arms to her. "Oh, right. Sorry. Her she─"

Verēna waved a dismissing hand. "Oh no. She can stay with you in the meantime. You seem to take a liking to her. Jeixes adore those who value them."

A half-lie.

Del would kill her after this.

"But─"

This time, she mustered a tight smile. "I insist, my lord. She won't mind."

Oh, the imp would.

Jeix, a tribe of li'l feline-shifting people inhabiting Zathras with transparent pair of enthralling wings which glistened under lights, were terrified of nothing, but men. Human men.

Silver-haired seemed to be still reluctant. She widened her tight-lipped smile. So wide, her jaw hurt from the forced stretch of the muscles.

Yielding, he said, "If you insist, then."

Verēna curtly nodded and eased her jaw. The gloomy mood she tended moments ago dissipating to naught.

Del would definitely hang her.

"I know this is late," Silver-haired lightly started, Del now resting on his lap, "but we'd like to properly introduce ourselves, m'la─"

"Verēna," she interjected. "My name is Verēna. I'm not a noble lady, so please call me by my name, my lord."

Blonde's piercing gaze held her under extreme perusing. "But aren't you the youngest daughter of the late Councilor Lavine?"

Verēna gritted her teeth. That name again. A name that brought back haunting memories.

"Perhaps you've mistaken me for someone you knew from the past, my lord."

Blonde's forehead creased to deep wrinkles. Verēna held his gaze, but unlike before the latter didn't make any move of backing down from their staring contest. A loud clap of a hand diverted their attention to Silver-haired who was sporting a nervous smile as his eyes flickered between them.

"Right. It's our pleasure to meet ya, Verēna. The name is Mavi," he gestured a hand to himself, then to Blonde, "and this is Nuallan. We're part of the Minister's─"

Her brow twitched.

"─uhm . . ." His uncertain eyes drifted to Nuallan who in return gave a taut nod. "Instructors."

"Instructors," Verēna mused with an arched brow, studying them across.

Why would an able Minister needed instructors at his prime age? Lines of advisors would be rather acceptable, but instructors? Surely, the country's mediator to four ruling clans of Grevus wasn't demented yet, wasn't he?

Curious.

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