IRINA

The fire flickered in the fireplace in the dark tavern, sending waves of warmth down my body, the musicians' fingers glided across the instruments, forcing my feet to move in the rhythm, enveloping the space in thick mania.

My eyes squeezed shut as a pair of hands trailed down my body, exploring my waist and the small of my back, and rough, cracked lips left gentle kisses all over my back. I leaned into the touch, my hips swaying, grinding against the man's crotch.

Today was my twentieth birthday. Spring burst through the Kingdom of Irenwell in a swift wave; flowers pushed through the frozen ground, birds returned to the trees and the Irenwell folk prepared for the revival of nature.

Lords and ladies from all over the Kingdom came to celebrate my birthday today; all dressed in the finest clothes, the most expensive jewels adorning their necks, sly smiles decorating their lips.

All in vain, though, because her Grace wasn't there.

I was in a local tavern at the edge of the Kingdom; leaning against a stranger, feeling his breath caress my neck, his hands sliding down my body, pulling the fabric of my black dress up.

"My name is Marco." He whispered in my ear, his teeth nipping my earlobe.

The warmth subsided slowly, disappearing the more time went by, leaving me cold and empty.

"I don't care." I opened my eyes and pushed him away.

The town's folk looked at me with concern and confusion, unsure how to react. I pushed through the crowd, stumbling over my feet. The emptiness within me grew and I needed to kill it as fast as possible. So, I leaned against the wooden counter and called for the slim, short waitress. The young, blonde thing sucked in her plump lower lip and gazed at me with worry under her dark eyelashes.

"I want another drink." I ordered, fully understanding her reluctance.

"Your Grace?" She whispered. "Are you... sure?"

"It's my twentieth birthday." I sneered. "The drinks are on me."

Her dark eyes glanced around nervously. On the one hand, she knew what I was doing was neither proper nor healthy and she felt it was her duty to tell someone I was here, perhaps even let the King know his sister was drowning herself in liquor. On the other hand, how could she refuse her Grace? Also, I had silver, lots of it.

The waitress sighed, "What do you want to drink?"

I leaned my elbows against the counter, a whisper falling off my lips, "Poison."

The poor thing staggered back, her dark eyes filling with uncertainty, her throat bobbing. A scattered laugh fell off my lips and I rolled my eyes. The black hole within my soul grew with each passing moment and I needed something to take the edge off.

"Look at me." I commanded, but her gaze escaped elsewhere. "Look at me, now."

The waitress's dark eyes found mine. Energy coursed through my body, vivid and tangible, passing through in waves and ending at the tip of my tongue.

"Get me my drink." I pushed magic into the girl's mind. "No questions, no concern, no reluctance. Get me my drink."

The poor thing had no idea what happened to her. She shook her head, trying to shake off my magic, but her mind was unprotected and too weak to push me away.

"Of course." Her chin moved up and down slowly, almost as if the movement hurt her.

With trembling hands, she poured some beer in the cup, looked around the tavern, making sure no one was paying attention, and pulled out a small, opaque vial. Checking whether someone was watching once more, the rose-cheeked waitress opened the vial and let a single black drop fall into the beer. Then, she handed the cup to me.

The poison was an extremely expensive Fae drug, supposedly used in their rituals and ceremonies, meant to expand the mind. The moment the drug touched my tongue, I staggered back, my mind blurring. Exhilaration overwhelmed me from head to toe, making me shudder. My entire body began to itch, begging me to move in the rhythm of the music.

In the first few months after I've returned from Orathia, I thought I was doing fine. The taste for finer things in life returned in even greater capacity than before, making me indulge in things I've never thought I'd want. But soon, I had realised there might have been something else behind my need to indulge; something darker and more sinister.

There was a dark, dull hole inside of me preventing me from truly enjoying anything. At first, servants and squires helped, but the more time went by, the bigger the hole became. Nothing helped now, nothing but poison.

I leaned against the counter, my head spinning, "Talk to me."

"Your Grace?" The waitress searched for my eyes, but I couldn't lift my gaze off the wooden counter. "Are you alright?"

"Just... talk to me." I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it would help. "Tell me what's going on. In Irenwell, in the world. Tell me something."

Yellow and red and white dots assaulted my field of vision and poison overwhelmed my blood. I shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach. My world flipped upside down and I had to open my eyes to stop my mind from spinning.

I tried to focus on the waitress, who continued to bite her plump lower lip, her gentle eyes searching the tavern for help, reluctance shining inside.

Finally, she leaned towards me, "The town's folk are scared, your Grace."

"Of what?" My heart thumped. "Of whom?"

The girl swallowed, her throat bobbing, "It's the stories from the borders, your Grace. The borders of Irenwell are under attack and no one is doing anything, no one's telling us anything."

My brows furrowed, "Which borders?"

"With Bastia, your Grace." The girl lowered her voice. "Right where there used to be the Kingdom of Naz. People speak of monsters coming in the dead of the night-"

"The girl is speaking nonsense." A male voice interrupted the waitress.

My gaze snapped to my left, to the man sitting on the stool; dark-haired, dark-eyed, with wrinkled, scarred face, dressed in a finer, black robe. A merchant, I guessed. He was dressed too well for a peasant.

"It's not monsters." He grabbed his beer and sipped. "It's just Bastians attacking Irenwell mines in the mountains and King Rodrig isn't doing anything about it."

"Mines?" I asked, going over the Irenwell map in my head.

Sure enough, the previous Kingdom of Naz, at the edge of the current Kingdom of Irenwell, rested on a dense labyrinth of mines, filled with ores, such as Irenwell silver, iron, copper, gold.

"Of course." The man nodded. "That's what King Bernard wants, isn't it? Irenwell ores."

Frustration simmered within me. These people thought they didn't know anything, but at least they heard stories coming from around the Kingdom. I, on the other hand, knew nothing. No one would tell me anything.

Ever since I've returned from Orathia, I've been pampered, coddled and protected. No challenges, no interests, no quests. Nothing. A dull, aching nothing.

I couldn't reach out to anyone, not when there was a possibility someone would intercept the Irenwell pigeons before the message they carried reached its destination. No one reached out to me, either. For six months now, I had no idea whether my friends were dead or alive.

My hands were completely tied. I couldn't even practice my magic because there were no books or mages in Irenwell. Entering servants' or waiters' minds only took me so far.

The worst of all, perhaps, was Rodrig's insistence I stay out of politics. He claimed I needed rest, peace and silence, but he did not understand that rest, peace and silence began to itch and burn uncomfortably. So, I began acting out.

Perhaps I thought if I screamed loud enough, someone on the other end of the world would hear me and save me.

"Thank you for your time." I saluted the waitress and downed my beer.

Once I stood up, the liquor and poison clouded my mind. I staggered through the tavern, needing to move, needing to do something other than sit and wait. The music around me grew louder, or my unbearable thoughts finally grew quieter.

I did not have to dance alone for long before someone's hands reached around my waist and pulled me closer. Poison coated my blood, causing a surge in desire. Warmth enveloped my body; sweet and deadly.

If I screamed loud enough, someone at the end of the world would hear me.

Unfamiliar, rugged hands trailed up and down my body and I leaned into the touch. I couldn't remember the last time one pair of hands was enough to drown me in need, so I let just about anyone touch me. I danced there, useless, helpless and abandoned, in the middle of the tavern, with nothing but destruction on my mind.

People exchanged around me; different men dancing, touching me, pulling me closer. Deep within my poison-drowned mind, something flashed. A memory of golden eyes; clear and vivid, like it hadn't been six months since I've last seen them.

Pain and nausea churned in my gut and I stumbled over my feet, only to have someone grab me and pull me up. Hands glided across my waist, my back, my thighs. Vomit gathered in my throat, acidic and disgusting, but I swallowed, forcing myself to keep dancing.

The music turned quicker and louder, my mind hazier and my feet less stable. Someone dragged me away, pulling me from the safety of the tavern. Voices assaulted my ears, but I couldn't see anything. My sight turned blurry and tears burned in the back of my throat.

"Where are we going?" I mumbled, noticing two men dragging me away. "I need- I need water."

"Hey, hey!" Another voice reached us and the two men stopped. "Leave her alone, now."

Faint panic began building in my stomach. Trying to keep myself upright, I grabbed the wooden table in the corner and took in a deep breath. People around the table moved their drinks away from me.

"Shit." I cursed. "Sorry."

"Hey." Someone's hand grabbed my forearm. "Let's get you some fresh air."

"No." I shook my head. "No, I'm fine."

"No, you're not." The man spoke. "You're drunk and drugged. You cannot stay here alone. Do you want to get yourself raped?"

"Fuck." My stomach upturned, I leaned forward and threw up all over the floor.

The acidic taste burned my tongue, but somewhat cleared my mind. The gaping hole within my soul filled with inexplicable sadness and pain. I gritted my teeth and tears filled my eyes.

"I'll get you water." The stranger said. "You need some fresh air."

I couldn't lift my head to look at him, so I kept my gaze on the creaking, wooden floor as he led me outside. The moment we exited the tavern, fresh air slammed into my face, worsening nausea.

I breathed in, bile rising to my throat again. Pain clutched my heart and I cried out as I stumbled on the wet ground. I couldn't do this anymore, I couldn't exist like this anymore, not in this never-ending pile of nothingness.

"Where are you?" I murmured into the wind, not expecting an answer. "Why did you let me go?"

Because I wanted him to let me go. I insisted on returning to Irenwell, claiming I wanted to be a queen, claiming there were things I wanted more than being with him. Now, he was somewhere else, somewhere far away, and he had no idea how badly my heart broke.

My gaze escaped to the sky. The waxing crescent shined down on me, marking the nearing beginning of spring, with only a few days until the spring equinox, and less than two weeks until the fourth full moon since the winter solstice. I couldn't see the Star of Orath from where I was sitting and it caused unexpected pain.

A stifled sob left my lips, "Where are you?"

"I'm here."

My eyes widened as I realised some stranger dragged me out of the tavern and I had no idea who he was. Once the haze and nausea cleared a little, a stronger panic replaced them. Oh, Goddess. What the fuck happened?

"You need to drink some water." The stranger squatted in front of me and gave me the cup. "I promise it's not poisoned."

The stranger's eyes were a smooth, dark green, like the grass in the deepest shade, and his hair was light brown, bordering on blondish. I've never seen him before. Taking the cup of water, I looked over his outfit; beige robes, made of a fine, smooth material. Silk, perhaps, but nicer.  He was definitely not a peasant; his hands were too nice, too elegant.

He was not a royal either, his clothes weren't adorned enough and he wore no jewels. Perhaps he was a rebellious royal like me, someone eager to escape the curse of nobility for the night. But as my vision cleared some more, I noticed the inhumane perfection to his features; his long, elegant nose, sharp jaw, smooth, almost silken skin.

"Who are you?" I frowned, reluctant to drink the supposedly un-poisoned water.

"My name is Kaan." He was still holding the cup in front of me. "I'm here to help you."

"Why?"

The stranger smirked, "Because Ace is paying me good money to do so."