ARIELLE:
He gazes down at me, his green eyes intense as he towers over me. Not like Caith's. I don't know what he wants. I don't know what to say.
"Don't do it," he says, his voice low and urgent.
"Don't do what?" I ask, confused.
"Don't marry Caith," Marcus says. "Don't become his chosen."
My breath catches in my throat. "Why not?" The words are barely a whisper.
He steps closer, his eyes searching mine. "Because it's a mistake."
"A mistake? But my mother..."
"Your mother believes this is your destiny, but she is wrong".
"Then what is my destiny?"
He hesitates, as if struggling with what to say next. He glances back at the ballroom as if he is afraid somebody may hear him. "That, I don't know. But it is not with my brother."
Before I can ask any further questions, he turns and disappears back into the crowd, leaving me standing alone on the balcony, my mind reeling. Why would he tell me this? Why would Caith's own brother warn me against marrying him? What does he know that I don't? I touch my forehead, and think if that would happen if Caith kissed me. I'd run away like Athena.
The sound of approaching footsteps breaks my train of thought. "Arielle? What are you doing out here?" Azriel's voice cuts through the night.
"Marcus was here," I say, my voice trembling slightly.
"Marcus? What did he want?" Azriel asks, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Arianna steps forward, placing a comforting hand on my arm. "What did he say to you?"
I hesitate, unsure of how much to reveal. "He...he told me not to marry Caith," I say finally.
Azriel's eyes widen in surprise. "He told you what?"
"He said it was a mistake," I continue. "That it wasn't my destiny."
Arianna frowns. "Why would he say that?"
"I don't know," I say, shaking my head. "That's what I don't understand."
Azriel paces back and forth, her brow furrowed in concentration. "This is not good," she mutters. "Not good at all."
The idea that someone is against Mother's idea is exciting.
Mother says "We must talk".
"We must talk," Mother says, her voice sharp, cutting through the night air. She strides towards us, her expression unreadable in the dim light of the balcony.
Azriel and Arianna step back, their faces paling slightly. I stand my ground, feeling a surge of defiance I didn't know I possessed.
"What did Marcus say to you?" Mother asks, her gaze fixed on me.
I hesitate, then decide to tell the truth. "He told me not to marry Caith."
Mother's eyes narrow. "He told you what?"
"He said it was a mistake," I repeat, my voice stronger now. "That it wasn't my destiny."
A muscle twitches in Mother's jaw. "Marcus is... misguided. He doesn't understand the importance of this union."
"But why would he say that?" Arianna asks, her voice laced with concern. "He's Caith's brother."
"He's always been... different," Mother says dismissively. "He doesn't see the bigger picture."
"The bigger picture?" I ask, my voice laced with sarcasm. "Is that what this is all about? Some grand scheme that I'm just a pawn in?"
Mother's eyes flash with anger. "Don't be disrespectful, Arielle. This is for the good of our people."
"But what about me?" I ask, my voice cracking with emotion. "What about what I want?"
Mother's expression softens slightly. "You'll understand, in time," she says, her voice laced with a familiar patronizing tone. "Now, come. It's late, and you need to rest. Tomorrow is a big day."
She turns and sweeps back towards the ballroom, Azriel and Arianna following close behind. I stand there for a moment, watching them go, feeling more alone than ever before.
The distant music from the ballroom seems to mock me. I turn and walk in the opposite direction, towards the sanctuary of my room.
I close the door behind me and lean against it, my heart pounding in my chest. Marcus's words echo in my mind: "Don't marry Caith." Why? What does he know that I don't? I've never met him before today.
I cross to my bed and sink down onto the soft mattress, burying my face in my hands. Tomorrow, I am to marry Caith Saint Callum, a man I barely know. A man his own brother warns me against. A man who is my…destiny.
Or am I being sold to the highest bidder?
Tears well up in my eyes. I am trapped, caught between duty and desire, between destiny and freedom. I want to run, to escape this gilded cage, but I know that I can't. My family's future, our island's safety, depends on me.
But how can I marry a man I don't love? A man who may not even be who he seems?
I don't have an answer. All I have is fear, uncertainty, and a growing sense of dread.
Driven by a desperate need to understand, I rise from my bed and cross to the door. I need answers, and the only place I know to find them is in the library.
I slip out of my room and tiptoe down the silent corridors, the only sound the soft rustle of my silk gown. The library is a sanctuary, a place of knowledge and comfort, filled with scrolls and books that have been passed down through generations of Morrighai women.
I light a candle and cast its flickering glow over the shelves, my eyes scanning the titles. I'm searching for something, anything, that can shed light on this strange situation. A scroll about men.
Finally, my fingers brush against a familiar scroll, one I haven't read in years: "The Creation of Men." I pull it from the shelf, its parchment cool against my skin, and unroll it on a nearby table.
The ancient script glows in the candlelight, the words weaving a tale I thought I knew by heart. But tonight, the story feels different, darker, more unsettling.
"We were three, and the world was our garden..." I read, my voice barely a whisper. The scroll tells of Athene, the First Mother, who created beings of pure reason, cold and unfeeling. Then came Eirene, the Second Mother, who filled them with joy but left them without the capacity for pain. Finally, Eris, the Mother of Sorrow, cursed them with suffering, making them whole.
Reason, joy, and sorrow. The words swirl in my mind. Is that all there is to them? Caith's face flashes before my eyes – those piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through me. I try to imagine him feeling sorrow, any emotion beyond that unsettling intensity.
The scroll goes on to describe how the Daughters of the Island witnessed their arrival: "They were different from us, carrying the weight of their mingled origins." I trace the words with my finger, trying to understand. Mingled origins. A chaos of intentions. Is that why they're so... unpredictable?
They possessed the keen intellect gifted by Athene, allowing them to navigate the complexities of the world we inhabited. The spark of Eirene shone in their capacity for connection and their pursuit of joy, a vibrant energy that could illuminate their lives. And the mark of Eris, the Mother of Sorrow, was evident in their struggles, their capacity for pain, and the resilience they developed in facing hardship.
As I read, I think about Marcus. Does Marcus have more of the Mother of Sorrow in him?
The words of the scroll offer no comfort, no answers. They only deepen my confusion and my fear. I thought I knew what men were from the stories, but the scroll says nothing of marriage, nothing of being chosen, nothing of destiny. I wonder if they are the gods chosen.
I roll up the scroll and place it back on the shelf, a sense of despair washing over me. The library, my sanctuary, has failed me.
I blow out the candle and stumble back to my room, my heart heavier than before. The distant music from the ballroom seems to mock me. I hear something in the wind, maybe the forest is calling me.