What are Your True Desires?

Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

Although I couldn’t imagine how the centuries-old Sorcerer would be able to execute a seduction of a young and beautiful girl like the Patron’s Daughter, it never crossed my mind that the Sorcerer wouldn’t look like himself.

The Sorcerer had transformed into a Brute.

He had the physique of a carnival strongman, with course black hair, beady dark eyes, and the crudest features I had ever seen. His thick lips curled in a grotesque smile when he saw the shock on my face.

He was anything but seductive.

The Brute was repugnant and my doom was certain.

I stood there, at a complete loss for words. The only introduction I could make of the Patron’s Daughter was a faltering wave of my hand.

Of course, she was livid.

“What is this!” she shrieked. “Addie, is this your idea of a joke? You nasty little vermin!”

For once, I couldn’t blame her.

There was raw hatred in her eyes when she glared at me, but I also understood that she was frightened. The whiny tone of her voice had soared to an unbearable pitch.

“Not at all,” the Brute replied. “I am exactly who Addie says I am.”

Even his voice was different.

Instead of the Sorcerer’s resonant baritone, the Brute had a scratchy voice.

The Patron’s Daughter’s face was white and her eyes narrowed into slits as she looked the Brute over.

“I beg your pardon. You hardly seem the type of acquaintance a noble family would seek out.”

The Brute laughed.

“Of course I’m not. Where did you get an idea like that?”

“Addie told me you could give me what I want! She said you could see the desires of my soul! She’s a filthy liar!”

“She is not,” the Brute replied. “Because what Addie said is true.”

What an incredible feat of will it was that I managed to remain standing.

The closest I could ever come to describing those moments was an absence of sensation that surpassed numbness.

Yet I still recognized the significance that the Patron’s Daughter remained in the cabin instead of running away.

Suddenly I realized that my active role in the creation of this intrigue had pretty much ended.

I hoped the Sorcerer was as cunning and wily as legend had always described him, for my destiny was now in his hands.

“How will you bring me my true desires?” the Patron’s Daughter screeched. “That should make an outrageous story how you will bring me and the Noble Son together!”

She started to laugh, a humorless noise that grated on my ears. The sound was piercing, keening towards the abyss of hysteria as tears streamed down her cheeks.

The Brute said nothing at first.

I finally recognized the expression of the Sorcerer when the Brute raised his right brow, along with his penetrating and subtly mocking gaze. His step was almost imperceptible as he came closer to the Patron’s Daughter.

“Is that what you expected, fancy girl? To come here and find the Noble Son on a golden platter with a lavish ring as a token of his undying passion for you?”

The Patron’s Daughter said nothing. She scowled and looked away.

“Your disappointment should hardly surprise you then,” the Brute continued, taking another invisible step towards her. “Wouldn’t you agree? The gifts I offer are your true desires.”

“I’m here because I believed you could help me marry him!”

“That may be why you came, but is that what you truly want?”

“Of course it is!”

The Patron’s Daughter glared, her cheeks red.

But the Brute took no notice of her frustration and rage. His dark eyes bored into her.

“Really?” he said softly. “Do you long for him? Does the Noble Son haunt your dreams? Do you ache for him when you lie alone at night?”

I could scarcely breathe.

Although the Brute focused only on the beautiful prey in his sights, he spoke of my experience. That was exactly what I had endured these past weeks since the Noble Son had left.

For the Brute to speak of that with such intimacy and certainty pierced my heart, and the burn of tears begged to fall from my eyes.

I blinked them away and swallowed hard, my hands balled into tight fists. I refused to allow that release. I could not afford any weakness in such a moment.

But the Patron’s Daughter only laughed. I hated her even more than I thought possible when she did that.

She covered her mouth, caught off guard by the abrupt response of involuntary humor.

But it was revolting.

I could hear the malice of ridicule in the giggles pushed past her lips. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably, and several minutes passed before she could stop.

“Why is that funny?” the Brute asked.

“Because he was so boring,” the Patron’s Daughter said, in between sniggers.

“Of course, the Noble Son would be boring. Kind, considerate people are such dullards, aren’t they, fancy girl?”

This excerpt is out of my WIP, “The Shepherd and the Courtesan.” If you’d like to read a previous excerpt, click HERE.