Elanor curtseyed after receiving a business card from Iris. Her knight, Ardrial, followed her movement. Though she failed to imitate her mistress to perfection, her determination shone through her inadequacy. Her clumsy movement became a source of amusement, of endearment.
“This is a transaction between the Court of Indulgence and the Valerian Family.” Iris smiled. “I’m not worthy of this high respect.”
“Your cooperation is our last chance.” Elanor held onto her Drifting Fantasia. “We’re unreasonable, expecting you to accept our plead with nothing of value to match the risk.”
“Your potential is worth the investment. I believe you’ll become someone wonderful, much more wonderful than this little expended assistance.”
Elanor couldn’t help but snicker. Although she dared not compare herself to Iris, she knew herself best, knew her talents best. If given an opportunity, she would exceed all her enemies. If her hope materialised, she might reach the realm her ancestor once trod.
Antina lightly coughed. The barrier surrounding the carriage and the street dimmed. The lurking shadow grew faint, their blackness dissipating under the dreary lantern light.
“Our meeting is a fateful one, but Fate is a temperamental lady.” Iris examined an ordinary ring in her hand, a gift from Elanor, a prize for her assistance. “At this moment, nothing is more precious than this ring.”
Elanor couldn’t understand it, but she kept to herself. Iris’s teasing smile refused to divulge the answer, showing only a subtle flirt that, if she continued to focus on it, would twist her heart into an everlasting knot.
“Please excuse our sudden leave. And please excuse us again when the time comes.”
“The Court welcomes all who struggle against their fate.”
“We all struggle against our fate, Lady Iris. But only a few may succeed in seizing their dreams.”
“Destiny follows the path of dreams. And you, Dear Elanor, will become their master.”
The Elves gradually exited the isolation barrier, their cloaks once more concealing their silhouettes. Their figures disappeared into the darkness, leaving only faint traces of their magic.
Although their magical attire obscured their presence, one singular lady stood out. Before she too receded away, she turned to look at the pair of ethereal beauties. Her eyes, gleaming like the bright moon, gave a sharp, determined look to Iris.
Their similar appearances reflected their similarly stubborn disposition.
“What do you think, Mistress?” Antina said. “Dealing with her is exhausting, is it not?”
“How bold, Antina. You even dare to criticise your mistress.”
Antina looked away. “She rarely takes your suggestions, unless they align with her goals. Her confidence borderlines arrogance, and she . . . lacks self-preservation.”
Antina’s soft tone persisted despite her increasingly muffled speech. Words that slipped out of her were hasty, too pointed. High emotions flooded her chest, suffocating her rationale.
What had gotten to her? She would never speak so thoughtlessly.
She moved away from her mistress. A familiar scent enveloped her. Sweet, fruity air tickled her nose, itching her heart. Nothing could stop her irritating thoughts, thoughts that clung to her mind, thoughts that spelt her desires.
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Antina whispered. Her face heated up, turning pink. “I . . . what happened, Mistress?”
Iris tumbled backwards until she crashed into the carriage. Her dark face grew translucent. Her clothes dampened under her leaking slime. She lifted her head to look at her maid, who rushed in and held her. She tried to smile but ended up coughing, coughing, coughing until she vomited glass shards.
Shadowy hands seized the shards and presented them to Antina. These fragments wiggled, failing to escape. Their edges corroded, but the black chains suppressed their decay.
Laughing, Iris held her maid’s face. Her fingers stroked those faintly pink cheeks. They bounced under her touch, though it failed to soften that stern expression. She then moved in, her lips ever so close to her maid. A puff of sticky breath blanketed the gap.
A hand came between their lips. Antina carefully pushed away her mistress. She grasped her mistress’s shoulders and locked upon that evading gaze.
“Must I say it, Mistress?” Antina said. “You promised.”
“It’s hardly worth your attention.”
Antina suppressed her expression, but the disappointment still manifested through her countenance. She had gotten a promise from her mistress, the most important one, yet she was too careless, too complacent with herself.
“I should’ve known better,” she mumbled. “It’s my fault—”
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“Do not blame yourself for my conceitedness. I . . . once again tried to slip away soundlessly.”
“You mustn’t. I won’t let you, none of us will.”
Iris’s slime dirtied her maid’s outfit, but Iris couldn’t bear to remove herself from this moment. Against her instinct, she carefully inched closer to her maid, her arms wrapping around that wonderful body, that gentle security. It resembled a campfire standing before a world of darkness.
She should’ve listened, confessed, and asked for help, yet she couldn’t bring herself to do so. To shift her burden to her family, to shift her curses unto their trusting hearts, was unacceptable.
“Please hold on tight, Mistress.”
Antina carried her mistress inside the carriage. After giving the driver instructions to head home, she curtained the windows and placed her mistress on the cushions, resting her head on her lap.
“I’ve stained your clothes,” Iris said. “And it seems I’ve also stained your heart.”
“I’m not angry. I’m . . . confused. Please don’t misunderstand me.”
“I have no right to. The one who disappoints you deserves no pity. But I am selfish and shameless.” Iris raised her hand to touch Antina’s face, but her palm failed to retain its shape, dripping down her chest. “I’m arrogant and inconsiderate. I am . . . afraid.”
Antina caught the melting hand. The cold slime wet her gloves, tainting her long sleeves. “And I’m foolish and naïve. No matter how many times you hurt me, I’ll still take your hands.”
“You’re not yourself right now, Antina.”
“You aren’t either, Lady Iris.”
Those words induced a mysterious mood, borne of intimate connections, which poured inside the sealed carriage a hot mist of passion. Antina could feel her chest rising and falling as her lungs pulled in and pushed out the mixed scent of their interconnected love. It whispered back her desires, affirmed her feelings, and invited her to seek confirmation from her mistress. Her eyes drifted toward that answer.
Iris couldn’t stop smiling. Her gaze, focusing on her maid, intensified like a swift hand that seized what was rightfully hers. She let out a giggle, a slithering tone of unrestrained emotions, one that coiled around her surprised maid and bit her exposed heart.
“You’re much further from the truth, my dear Antina.”
Iris’s body regained its shape as she pressed her hands on her abdomen, moving one up and the other down. Her slime left traces of pinkish liquid on her membrane. Her fingertips commanded her maid’s gaze, demanding it to follow wherever it led, to anticipate its destination.
“I’ve . . . never been so relieved.” Her muffled voice painted the world watery. “Antina, my Antina, my dear Antina.”
Blushing, Antina clenched her fists until her fingernails cut through her palms, just to bring back her senses, which gradually slipped away. Her mistress’s visage infected her vision. It was the fragrance of a mystical flower, a flower untouched and undefiled by earth and sky.
The thought of ruining it, plucking it for herself, filled her with raging heat only a tender kiss could calm. She had to extinguish these flames, and there was only one way.
“I . . . cannot do this, Mistress.” Antina grabbed her mistress’s hands and removed them before they could fulfil their desires. “I want your pure affection, pure desires, not a distorted lust.”
Blackness crawled out beneath Antina and swallowed her along with her mistress. Cold, restrictive arms gently restrained her mistress. She closed her eyes and looked away, fearing that a tint of regret might appear on her countenance. She would undoubtedly lose herself if her mistress pushed that button.
Iris did not struggle. She held tightly to her maid’s hands, exchanging her coldness with her maid’s warmth. The heat cooled the itches in her soul. The inviting air no longer intoxicated her senseless. Only the dripping shame occupied her teary eyes.
“I’ve failed you, Antina.” Iris closed her eyes. “Will you lay me on the couch?”
Although Antina wished to refuse, she still lowered her mistress on the cushion. There she awaited a chance to restore what once was. A purity calmly took back the mood, a tranquillity comparable to a cuddle.
Iris got up to sit beside her maid, but she did not lean on her. She let the wall hold her weight while she gazed, through the curtain, at the shifting scenery of townhouses and storefronts, shaded by tall trees and flowers along the pavements. The external peace diffused into her, and she gave one last exhale, swiping away all fantasies and unpleasant memories.
She turned to her maid, who was contemplating something. Their gazes connected; they now did away with their pretence.
“The one who injured me is the cult leader of the Broken Mirror,” Iris said. “He tried to capture my spirit.”
“Did you . . . imbue the curse with a part of your soul?” Antina couldn’t help but reveal her worries through her frown. “You’ve been too hasty! What if you encountered a True Master?”
“If not a True Master, who could’ve pushed me to this state?” Iris giggled. “Your mother’s Mark of Concealment helped me escape his grasp.”
“You’re still too reckless. There was no need for you to risk yourself.”
Iris caught her maid’s hands, stroking them. “I needed to confirm something. Everything was worth it.”
“Even this injury, this curse, this pain?”
“The Saintess of Pure Mind rewarded me her protection. She must’ve been watching over me.”
Antina shivered. She resisted the urge to cast even more isolation and detection spells. They would be useless and disrespectful, but she must protect her mistress.
“You wouldn’t promise me, even if I beseech you,” Antina said. “But please, take better care of yourself, Mistress.”
“I can only try.”
“Then please let me take care of you.”
“Is that not your duty?”
“Will it be this way, forever?”
“Only the future me may answer that question.” Iris flicked her right hand. A fuzzy card appeared in her palm. “Would you like a hint?”
Antina shook her head. “Expending your effort for such a trivial thing is unacceptable. No matter what the future entails, I’ll still serve you. If not your maid, then your wife.”
Iris kept to herself. She carefully unbuttoned her dress and closed her eyes, laying her chest bare for her maid. On her face was a light smile, full of mischief. Only her beloved could see this side of her.
With delicate care, Antina moved closer and placed her palm on her mistress’s chest. A series of revolving dark purple circles manifested before her hand, projecting a path between two souls.
She too closed her eyes, but her sight persisted. A vision of an endless rainbow-coloured sky manifested. Rifts spewing soft blue light tainted this pale world with distortive reflections of the land. These glowing shards blinded the world.
This time, she swiftly cast a spell. Her spiritual body shimmered as milky liquid flowed from her soul, infusing the land with calmness and a healing aura. This invisible pressure ground away the shards while restoring the order of this realm.
Although the air of desolation merely lessened, it took much of Antina’s vitality. Her mind increasingly lost its grip, and she swayed to the side. Her mistress caught her while keeping her expression unreadable. She gave her sleepy maid a goodnight kiss.
Throughout the journey back home, Iris guarded the silence that blanked her maid, pulling in her thoughts, hiding them deep within her bright eyes.
“Sleep well, Antina,” Iris said. “You don’t have to worry about me. The issue of my heart, I’ll solve them myself.”
Antina frowned in her sleep, yet her countenance remained ever so cute. Such an adorable maid, no harm must befall her.