Chapter 84 - Breakfast
As my feet touched the cool floor, I swirled around dramatically, facing Cillian who had also risen from the bed. The sudden movement sent a whoosh of air through the room, disturbing the delicate balance we had created. "OKAY!" I exclaimed, my voice bright and cheerful, a stark contrast to the heavy conversation we had just been having. "Let's make breakfast together!" I declared, my right arm rising in enthusiasm, as if I could dispel the tension with sheer force of will.
Cillian's response was immediate and visceral. He rolled his eyes, the gesture exaggerated and dramatic, a physical manifestation of his exasperation. Without a word, he turned and walked back to the table laden with documents. Each step was measured, his movements precise and controlled, but there was an undercurrent of irritation evident in the set of his shoulders and the slight stiffness in his gait.
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As he settled into the chair, the wood creaking slightly under his weight, I found myself puzzled by his sudden change in mood. Huh? Why's he getting irritated so suddenly? The thought flitted through my mind, a quiet whisper of confusion.
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My gaze, which had been following Cillian's retreating figure, now wandered around the room. It was then that my eyes landed on a large bowl placed on the bedside table, nestled next to the ornate lamp. A damp cloth hung over its rim, the fabric still slightly dark with moisture. The sight was a stark reminder of the night's events, evidence of Cillian's vigil and care.
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So he wasn't lying. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, bringing with it a wave of warmth and gratitude. My gaze returned to Cillian, now hunched over his work, pen moving across paper with renewed focus.
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A complex mix of emotions swirled within me - gratitude for his care, curiosity about the depths of his concern, and a touch of guilt for my earlier teasing. With these feelings propelling me forward, I quickly made my way to the bathroom to freshen up.
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As I closed the bathroom door behind me, the soft click of the latch echoing in the tiled space, I couldn't help but wonder what other surprises this day might bring.
*25 minutes later*
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The room had settled into a hushed rhythm, the air heavy with the lingering scent of ink and the mustiness of old parchment. Sunlight, now more golden as the morning progressed, streamed through the ornate windows. It cast long, intricate shadows across the polished mahogany floor, creating a chiaroscuro effect that highlighted the room's opulent details. Dust motes, disturbed by the recent activity, danced in lazy, mesmerizing spirals within the beams of light.
Sigh.
The sound broke the silence like a pebble dropped in still water. It was a long, drawn-out exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of completed tasks and unspoken thoughts. As Cillian released this breath, his shoulders visibly relaxed, the tension of concentrated work melting away. He leaned back slightly, the chair creaking softly under the shift in weight, as his eyes swept over the now-organized workspace before him.
His movements were deliberate and practiced as he arranged the last of his materials. Papers whispered against each other as they were sorted into precise stacks, their edges aligned with meticulous care. Pens clicked softly as they were gathered, their metal nibs catching the light with tiny flashes. Ink bottles clinked gently, their dark contents swirling hypnotically as they were carefully stoppered and arranged in a neat row.
Just then, the air behind Cillian stirred almost imperceptibly. A presence materialized, silent as a shadow. Slender arms appeared in his peripheral vision, moving with a grace that spoke of both familiarity and affection. They stretched out before his eyes, the skin catching the warm sunlight, before wrapping around his neck in a gentle embrace.
The chair issued a low groan as Cillian turned, the movement smooth and unhurried. As he shifted, the light played across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the depth of his eyes. Luxana's face came into view, her expression a captivating mixture of playfulness and curiosity. Her gaze was fixed intently on the organized chaos of paperwork, her eyes scanning the documents with an interest that bordered on fascination.
"Let me guess," she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the quiet like a bell chiming in an empty cathedral. The words hung in the air, vibrating with a palpable excitement and mischief that seemed to energize the very atmosphere of the room. As she spoke, her cheek brushed against Cillian's, the contact brief but electric. The warmth of her skin against his sent a barely perceptible shiver down his spine. "You used your demonic powers to summon these papers from Elmir?"
Cillian's response was brief, almost curt. "Yeah......" The single word seemed to carry more weight than its syllable suggested, hanging in the air between them like a veil. His gaze returned to the desk, a subtle shift that spoke volumes about his discomfort with the topic.
As he raised his hand, the atmosphere in the room underwent a dramatic transformation. The air seemed to thicken, becoming almost syrupy with a palpable tension. Black lightning crackled into existence, the sound like tearing silk in the quiet room. The dark energy danced around his fingers, casting eerie, writhing shadows across the walls and ceiling. The very light in the room seemed to dim, as if retreating from this display of otherworldly power.
*SWISHH*
The sound cut through the air, sharp and sudden as a whip crack. In the span of a heartbeat, the desk was cleared. Papers, pens, inks, and books vanished without a trace, leaving behind only the faintest disturbance in the air, like heat shimmer over hot pavement. The polished surface of the desk gleamed in the returning light, now unmarred and reflective as a mirror, capturing the stunned expressions of both Cillian and Luxana.
Cillian's voice broke the ensuing silence, hesitant and low, barely above a whisper. "There's some chaos going on in my family so," he began, the words seeming to stick in his throat. As he spoke, his cheek moved away from Luxana's, creating a small but noticeable distance between them. His gaze averted, focusing on some indistinct point in the middle distance, as a subtle tension crept into his shoulders, causing the fabric of his shirt to stretch slightly. "I hope you don't mind me staying here till it's sorted out." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications and vulnerability.
Luxana felt laughter bubbling up inside her, a warmth in her chest that threatened to spill over. But she swallowed it down, recognizing the delicacy of the moment and the vulnerability in Cillian's request. Instead, she allowed a soft smile to curve her lips, her eyes warm with understanding and affection.
"Sure," she replied, her voice gentle yet firm, like a warm breeze on a summer's day. As she spoke, she watched Cillian's eyes widen in surprise, the change in his expression as dramatic as a flower blooming in fast-forward. Disbelief warred with hope in his gaze, his pupils dilating slightly as he processed her response. "My home is also your home. You're always welcome," she added, the words flowing out with a sincerity that was almost tangible.
As she finished speaking, Luxana closed her eyes, leaning in to place a soft, chaste peck on Cillian's cheek. The contact was brief, a whisper of touch, but its impact was profound. Color bloomed across Cillian's face, a vibrant red that spread rapidly from the point of contact, flooding across his cheeks and down his neck. Despite his visible embarrassment, he remained still, his body a study in forced calm. Yet, the unease was evident in the slight widening of his eyes, the almost imperceptible quickening of his breath, and the way his gaze darted to Luxana and then away, as if unable to process her actions.
Luxana stood, her movement causing the chair to scrape softly against the floor, the sound unexpectedly loud in the charged atmosphere. "Well then," she exclaimed, her voice light and playful, a stark contrast to the intensity of the moment before. With deliberate slowness, she reached out, her finger extended. Gently, she tapped the tip of Cillian's nose, the gesture both teasing and affectionate.
As her finger made contact with his skin, something shifted in the air around them. A fiery red light began to manifest, starting as a faint, barely perceptible glow and quickly intensifying. The light surrounded them, enveloping their forms in a cocoon of magical energy. It pulsed and swirled, casting dancing shadows across the room and bathing everything in a warm, otherworldly glow.
The sensation of teleportation began to take hold - a feeling of weightlessness, of being everywhere and nowhere at once. The room around them began to blur and fade, colors running together like a watercolor painting left in the rain. In a flash of brilliant red light, they vanished, leaving behind an empty room filled with the lingering warmth of their presence and the fading traces of magical energy.
-Amoria Palace; Corridor to the Kitchen; 6:45 AM-
"Huh?" Cillian blurted, his voice a low murmur that barely disturbed the morning stillness.
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In an instant, we materialized on our feet, the remnants of my teleportation magic dissipating like mist around us. The corridor stretched before us, bathed in the soft glow of dawn. To our left, a row of tall, slender windows filtered the morning light, casting long shadows across the polished floor and illuminating motes of dust that danced in the air.
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"This is the corridor to the kitchen!" I exclaimed, my excitement propelling me forward. The skirt of my dress billowed around me, a cloud of white fabric adorned with intricate red floral Japanese designs. My black hair, tied high in a ponytail, cascaded behind me as I moved, catching the light with each step. The dress, falling just above my knees, was complemented by flared leg warmers and arm warmers that began slightly above my elbows. These fluffy accessories bore the same delicate patterns as the dress, creating a cohesive and eye-catching ensemble. White shoes completed the outfit, their soft tapping against the floor echoing in the quiet corridor.
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"We're not in the same palace as before now, are we?" Cillian questioned, his hands tucked casually into his pockets as he began to walk. His voice carried a hint of curiosity, tinged with the wariness of someone suddenly thrust into unfamiliar surroundings.
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I twirled around mid-run, the motion causing my dress to flare out in a mesmerizing spiral. Facing Cillian, I offered a soft smile, my eyes meeting his. "That's right," I confirmed, the words carrying a note of playful mystery. Without missing a beat, I spun back around and continued walking, now with exaggerated high steps that showcased my leg warmers. My hands clasped behind my back in a picture of innocence as I waited for him to close the distance between us, each step deliberate and almost dance-like in its grace.
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The corridor of Amoria Palace stretched before us, its grandeur a stark contrast to our playful movements. The morning light streaming through the windows painted everything in a soft, golden hue, lending an almost ethereal quality to the scene. The air was filled with the promise of a new day, tinged with the faint scents of the approaching kitchen – a subtle blend of freshly baked bread and aromatic spices that seemed to beckon us forward.
"There are quite a few maids and servants here, excluding the butler and chef. Compared to Helia Palace which has a swarm of them," I remarked nonchalantly, glancing up at the ceiling as we continued down the corridor. Cillian remained a few steps behind me, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor.
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Hmm.....It's the same as earlier. I thought, my eyes tracing the intricate patterns above. But what was the need to construct this back? The question flitted through my mind, a whisper of unease. It feels suffocating...........The thought settled heavily, causing my gaze to drop rapidly. Myla, Mylo and Veles...................they're nowhere to be found. My eyes widened as an idea struck. I could ask Cillian to just summon my-
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Suddenly, I felt a firm hand on my right arm, pushing me to the left. My gaze, which had been focused on the ground, snapped up as Cillian's irritated voice came from behind and above me. "Watch where you're going."
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I turned to see a young servant boy, arms full of utensils, his face a mask of worry as he rushed past without even a murmured apology for nearly colliding with me.
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"Hah. Pathetic," Cillian muttered, his voice low and laced with irritation as he watched the boy's retreating form.
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"It's okay," I said softly, smiling as I patted the back of his hand that still rested on my arm. He released his grip, his expression settling into neutrality.
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As we resumed our walk down the corridor, the smile lingering on my lips, Cillian's voice cut through the silence once more. "Do you have some disease or what?"
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I turned my head back, my smile unwavering. "What do you mean?" I asked with a light chuckle, slowing my pace to allow him to catch up.
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"WHY THE HELL DO YOU SMILE SO MUCH?" he demanded, his voice rising as he drew level with me, hands thrust deep into his pockets.
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"Hehe," I giggled, "Of course, cause my hubby's soo cute!" I exclaimed, my smile brightening.
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"Lie one more time and I'll throw you outta that window," he retorted rudely.
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I kept my eyes fixed downward, my smile persistent, choosing not to counter his harsh words.
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Unexpectedly, I felt his arm wrap around my shoulder. "You know what?" he asked, his gaze boring into me.
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I raised my head slightly to meet his eyes. "What?" I asked, still smiling.
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"I hate you," he shot back bluntly.
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"HUH?" I blurted, jerking away from his embrace. Just as I opened my mouth to return his bitterness, I caught myself, sighing as I closed my lips. The flash of irritation and rage that had surged through me dissipated as quickly as it had come, replaced first by a blank expression, then by my usual bright smile.
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I knew it. Cillian thought, his expression neutral yet eyes slightly widened as he walked ahead. She's definitely that psychiatric hospital's new awaited member. The thought solidified in his mind as he observed my rapid emotional shifts.
"So," Luxana exclaimed, her footsteps resuming their rhythmic pace along the corridor. "Why do you hate me?" she asked, a dull smile playing on her lips. The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken emotions and a hint of challenge.
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"So," Cillian mimicked, his tone a perfect imitation of Luxana's cadence, pauses and all. "Why do you smile at me?" he countered, turning his head to meet her gaze. His eyes, usually guarded, now held a spark of curiosity mixed with irritation.
To be Continued...
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