Chapter One

Corlanna

"I’m no saint."

One blue eye and one gold eye peered at me as I studied the man before me. He was an androgynous man if I’ve ever met one. His beauty was stunning, and to me, impossible. I had known him long enough to know he was real, and solid, but there was still that one thing that I couldn’t put my finger on. It was a strange ethereal air around him that made me both uneasy and awed at the same time. When he spoke it sounded soft and sweet like the ringing of bells or the gentle whistle of a warm breeze. Anyone who knew him would say he was a happy being.

A smile never faded from his face, always softly gracing his face. Not once have I seen him frown or get angry. I could see something else underneath that smile though. There was a calming smile, but a dark undercurrent, much like the eye of a storm. Everything appeared happy, beautiful, and over all serene about this powerful person. Just looking at his elegant face could make one feel less of a person. It all was true, that wasn’t what I felt unsettled about. It was the strange gaze in those mismatched eyes that churned my stomach. Every time our eyes met I could sense some deep and painful sadness that never made its way up to anyone. He hid it so well, and yet I still felt that intense and overwhelming emotion of loss, hatred, and disgust towards everything around him.

“You never talk about yourself.” I said quietly as I ran a pale hand over my face. I was tired. It had been a long day, as usual, and I wanted nothing but to just sit here with him and listen. All my life I’ve just wanted to hear him talk about his past. He seemed like someone with a lot of it to talk about. I knew he had seen many people come and go, and times change, it made me curious to know more.

“I have nothing to say that is really important.” He shifted himself in the large seat and placed his cheek against his dark brown palm. I watched his slender fingers drum his cheek. “Why are you bringing this up so suddenly, anyways? Don’t you have men to catch?” He gave a playful smirk and raised an eyebrow.

I wanted so much for him to stop acting. I gave a blow through my nostrils and looked away, narrowing my eyes. He never failed to stop teasing me, or anyone around here for that matter. He ruled over such a vast expanse of land, was such a wonderful person, and yet I felt he was hiding everything from everyone. As second in command to him I felt obligated to know these things. “Can’t you stop playing for once?”

“Playing?” He asked and continued to smile at me. Straightening up he ran a hand through his long, gold hair, letting it flow over the arms of the detailed throne. I glanced over at him and his smile faltered into a tired look. For that brief moment I could see the ancient age in his eyes and the exhaustion of those years in that expression. “Someone once called it acting.” He shrugged and leaned back, arms stretching out and a yawn escaping his mouth.

“I just want you to know you can tell me anything.” I stood up from my seat and walked over to him, as I got closer I could smell honey, the way he smelled all the time. I crossed my arms over my stomach and cocked a hip, as if expecting him to say something, hoping it’d make him talk.

He looked up at me, eyes flickering over my face with a curious expression and he pursed his lips. “You’re persistent.” He declared and laughed musically. “I like that.” Again I saw the look of memories long ago fade into his eyes.

“I give up.” I finally turned around and began to leave before his warm hand clasped around my wrist. My heart skipped a beat and I looked over my shoulder at him. His eyes were pleading, and it hurt me. I had never seen a look of guilt cross his face before now, and it broke my heart. He was ages older than me, and yet he seemed much younger in spirit. “I don’t understand. If you won’t tell me, then why do you want me to stay?”

“I hate being alone.” His lips moved barely as he remained focused on me. I carefully released his fingers from my wrist and pulled my wavy brown hair up into a messy bun.

“I can’t imagine someone so strong being afraid of being alone.”

“Crazy, isn’t it?”

“Sure is.”

“If I knew myself I’d think I was pathetic.” He laughed again and licked his lips.

“Not pathetic, just sad.”

“I am.”

“I know.” I sat down beside him, our bodies pressed side by side, and rest my head against the back of the throne. Our relationship wasn’t one of romance, hardly. I could never see myself being with him in that way. I would guess we were like family. I was almost a sister to him and he was like my brother. He had taken me in as a child and pretty much cared for me in the way an older brother would. “I know you’re sad. But I can’t help you if you’ll never tell me why.”

“I can’t stand talking about myself. It makes me sick.”

“Oh? I thought for sure you’d love talking about how amazing you were.”

“How wrong you are.”

“Just tell me. It’ll feel better to tell me.”

A silence grew between us and I looked away from him. His eyes moved to the side and it remained that way for nearly ten minutes, the two of us thinking to ourselves. Finally he moved slightly and shrugged.

“Alright.”

My dark blue eyes widened and I sat up, looking at him.

“I’ll just warn you, it’s not entirely pleasant.”

“I hate pleasant.” At my comment he gave another laugh and closed his eyes. Then he began to tell me of his past. I didn’t know what I was in for, or what I’d learn about this person I’d looked up to my entire life. I was sure it wouldn’t affect our close bond, but then again I’d never had known someone could have gone through as much as he did, alone in his Ivory Tower.