Music recommendation: The Rose and The Thorn by Johannes Bornlof on Spotify.
As they continued their meal, Lyra stared at Leo, intrigued by the scar and intricate design. No blade could carve in such a manner, and it doesn't look like burn marks. Curiosity got the best of her, and she probed,
"I'm curious…How did you get the scar on your cheek?"
Leo paused and laid his spoon back in the bowl. When did this become an interrogation of him?
"Did anyone ever tell you curiosity killed the cat?"
"And satisfaction brought it back. Besides, you already know everything about me," Lyra remarked as she crossed her arms.
"And then some…" Leo added, inciting a feverish blush from her.
Before she could retort, he continued in a matter-of-fact tone,
"A country bumpkin, raised by your grandfather, groomed to be a soldier, and failed to become a proper lady—Did that sum everything up?" He tilted his head slightly, with the corner of his lip curled.
Speechless. Was Lyra that easy to describe her life in one sentence? But thanks to that, she smirked,
"So that only means you should share something about yourself," Lyra proved her point.
"I already told you my infinity to wildlife."
"Why can't you tell me about your scar? Is it painful? Was it from a war you fought in?" she probed further. She reached and cupped his cheek without backing down from prying for answers.
Leo was utterly taken aback when he felt her soft, warm hand gently trailing down his left cheek. His heart started pacing as her thumb tenderly caressed the area of the mark, sending shivers down his spine. He didn't expect such a sudden touch from her, and the moment's intensity made his breath hitch in his throat.
Lyra was intrigued as she felt the softness of his skin and the heat he radiated. She blushed as she realized she was once again treading in unknown waters.
Leo's gaze remained fixed on Lyra as she traced the contours of the scar on his skin; his usual stoic expression wavered for a moment, replaced by a subtle vulnerability; the touch of her hand, warm and delicate, sent ripples through him, stirring emotions he had kept at bay. In her innocence, she had breached a fortress he thought impenetrable.
"It's not from a war," Leo finally spoke, his voice carrying a weight of solemnity. "But it's a mark, a consequence of choices I made in the past."
Lyra's eyes softened, and finally, a part of him was revealed, though it was small. The revelation drew her closer to him, an unspoken understanding passing between them.
However, like a dam that broke, Lyra felt intense heat from his scar, burning her fingers as she winced back, clutching her hand.
Suddenly, gripped by the searing pain emanating from his scar, Leo gritted his teeth. He groaned at the abrupt sensation he was not mentally prepared for. His eyes shut as another wave of agony washed over him as he lost his balance, crashing on the floor.
Lyra was startled to find him in a pained state. She rushed to him, filled with concern,
"Leo?! What's wrong?"
Leo growled as he hunched over, hiding his face from her. The timing could've been better for undergoing another corrupted spat, especially in front of her.
"It's nothing," He growled through gritted teeth, biting by the pain.
Her heart thrummed in her ears, and she hesitantly reached him, only for Leo to swat her hand away. His red orbs glowed dangerously, warning her to stay back. His ivory hair fanned over his features as he panted heavily. The tips of his ivory hair looked as if dipped in ink and gradually spread further.
Leo shoved past her as she hit the ground hard. He dashed out of the room in a flash, which left Lyra again alone and in shock and anguish.
Lyra grumbled under breath as she propped herself up to a sitting position. She was confused by the strange behavior that exploded out of nowhere, and she gulped in nervousness. She checked her burned hand and saw nothing odd on her palm.
Did she cause him pain? Prying into his life was a bad judgment on her part. There was no satisfaction from this cat, and she needs to be held accountable for that part.
Frantic, she felt responsible for Leo, and ran after him. She didn't know how to help him, but the guilt of causing the issue made her rush after him.
By the time she reached the end of the steps down the stairs, she nearly collided with the feline innkeeper, who hissed in fright as his sleek fur spiked.
"Aiiish! Watch where you're going! Nearly lost a life out of sheer fright," The innkeeper chided Lyra.
"Do you know where my friend went?" She scanned the expansive room where patrons conversed, eating and drinking merrily.
The innkeeper huffed, "You pale friend bolted through the main door. He almost stomped my tail if he knew where he was going! I'm charging extra if there is any dama—"
"Thank you!" Lyra ran towards the main entrance, not bothering with the feline's complaint.
It was well past noon by the sight of the sun and street. The village was massive, and the constant commute of people passing through made it challenging for Lyra to pinpoint where Leo went. Her day was cut out for her, and her red nose was not helping her in her endeavors. She gritted her teeth and took a left to start her search, starting from one end and making her way to the other.
The sun had long set, and the stars glistened in the night sky. Lyra was exhausted with no luck finding Leo or even a glimpse or witness from anyone nearby. It was as if he vanished without a trace. Lyra grimaced as she looked up to the dark sky. She was far from the inn and would have to retrace her steps.
The markets and stores closed up, and a tavern she passed earlier was bustling with drunkards and lustrous women flaunting toward wayward travelers. The bitter cold brushed past her weary bones. Thankfully, she still had her cloak around her when she ventured out. She hoped Leo would be there waiting for her when she returned to their shared room at the inn.
She could already imagine his brooding nature of not letting her leave his sight. But how could he get angry at her when he was the one who ran away from her? It was not like him in the least, and that made her worry.
Lyra had yet to move past the tavern, but she noticed two men leaving the pub who had taken notice of her. Her gaze lowered, hoping they would be on their way. She had enough trouble for a lifetime if anyone were to ask her.
Thankfully, they moved past her; however, she failed to notice a group of men, three in total, blocking her path. Three pairs of muddied boots as her eyes trailed up to meet the three figures smirking made her step back in apprehension—all too familiar in this situation in the sense of deja vu.
"Care for a drink, milady," the man in the middle with blonde hair and well-built seemed friendly at a glance, but his eyes Lyra knew all too well.
She closed her eyes to calm her frustration, and patience seemed to swing on a thin thread. She was cold, beyond exhausted, with fatigue gripping her aching bones and a raging migraine that seared her mind. She was in no mood for small talk.
Lyra sidestepped from the group, only for one of the looming men to block her path again.
"Excuse me, I need to be on my way," Lyra spoke, trying to come off as polite as possible through gritted teeth.
"What's the hurry? The night is young! Come join us," a strong arm wrapped around her shoulder as the stranger spoke to her merrily from behind. She looked to her side to realize the individuals who passed her were those who now surrounded her.
Five against one, meek woman seemed overkill, right?
One thing that they should have realized was who they were dealing with. If it were any other woman, they would've complied. However, thanks to Viktor's training, she ahd a fighting chance.
She flashed a warm smile to the stranger whose arm was around her shoulder as she raised her hand and caressed his tenderly.
"No, thank you," she spoke as her voice dipped threateningly.
Lyra gripped his hand hard, twisting it at an angle; with enough force, he yelped in pain. She kicked him in the groin, shoved him into the other stunned friends in front of her, and bolted down an alley.
She winced as she felt someone tug her hair, yanking her back. She twirled around to see the fury in the stranger, who must have been his comrade, holding his jewels with teary eyes. She saw his other hand winding up to throw a punch toward thankfully, Lyra was faster as their proximity was close enough, and his height was more comparable to hers. She throat punched him, and his eyes bulged as he released her hair, staggering back as he clenched his throat, gasping for air.
With a swift kick to his temple to knock him out, Lyra huffed as she felt this ordeal had better be worth it when Leo was found.
"You bitch!"
A fist flew and made contact with her cheekbone. Lyra flew to the ground and grimaced as the throbbing pain in her head rattled. The taste of iron filled her mouth as she spat out.
She glanced at the four imposing men, well, three, since one was still hunching over to recompose himself with teary eyes. Lyra wiped the trace of blood from her lip. The Blonde man seemed to be the leader since he glared at his two goons, unharmed, to grab her.
With force, the men restrained Lyra, gripping her by the arms. She glared as she fought back from the men holding her. Her screams seemed to have the men panic as the blonde man threw another punch in her stomach.
Lyra felt the air leave her lungs as her head fell forward. The grappling pain rippled through her body. She gasped for air.