Blinding Light (BLS Book 1)

I follow the captain’s friend onto the dance floor. He bows, and I curtsy.

He slides his hand on the back of my waist and places my hand in his other. We waltz around the dance floor, spinning occasionally. It is quite awkward since he didn’t lead the dance all the time.

I try my best to keep my feet in check, not step on his toes, and trying not to look down. So, I kept my eyes on his face, analyzing his perfectly aligned features. His dark, long hair brushed back on his head. His arched brow hooded those downturn eyes, colored with the ocean and a hint of the sky. A little stubble on his face and chin against his lightly tanned skin makes his full lips stand out. There’s a tiny scar next to his right eye.

I wonder where he got that from.

“Studying me?” He asks and I flinch, mainly surprised that he’s actually talking to me.

“Perhaps. We aren’t talking, so…”

“Noted, we shall talk now,” he interrupts, almost rudely. I frown at his sudden change of heart. It takes a hard effort to keep myself from rolling my eyes.

He glances at me as if examining. “Your eyes,” he says. “…are beautiful. They remind me of my hometown up in Britain, actually. It was next to the forests.” He flashes me a smile, but it disappears as quickly as it came.

“Oh...merci,” I reply, giving him a warm smile.

Of the forest by his home? I think. I don’t see how brownness could relate to the forest, maybe the bark of trees, I guess.

“No, I mean the actual color of the forest, the leaves, trees—My Lady, are you not aware…?”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry, please don’t take that question too seriously,” he finishes. I frown at his strange response and lean away from him unconsciously. But he tightens his grip on my hand and pulls me back. I bite my lower lip and felt my heart tingle just a bit.

We dance the rest of the song in uncomfortable silence, avoiding each other’s gaze realistically—only looking at each other because we’re partners. But I have to say, he has the bluest eyes I have ever seen.

I could stare all day into those eyes, an inner voice whispers and I shake the thought off.

His hand leaves my waist suddenly, bringing me back from my thoughts.

Stop getting so distracted!

I glance around and realize the music has ended. I scramble to curtsy as he bows. My mind travels back to the witchcraft trials, the illegal use of magic.

Maybe he escaped the trials? Is he a witch? Wait, it’s improper to call a man a witch…

Just before he could leave, I grab the hem of his sleeve involuntarily—pulling slightly. He stops and glances back, laughing suddenly, causing me to jump, dropping his sleeve in the process.

Even his laugh is attractive…

Mila!

“No, I cannot perform magic—and I am not a witch.”

Flustered, I don’t say anything. His laugh is deep and hearty, but it was also somewhat pained and held back hiding with a feeling I know far too well. I narrow my eyes, inspecting him unconsciously until his voice snaps me back to reality.

“Please excuse me. I need some water,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“But wait—you seem to be able to know exactly what I’m thinking. It’s strange. I’m merely curious, that’s all.” I watch him warily. He widens his bright, blue eyes and shakes his head suddenly like a puppy refusing to acknowledge its wrongdoings.

Adorable.

I shake the thought off furiously. This boy seems to have caught all of my attention, strangely. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such butterflies twist so violently in my stomach.

He clears his throat before glaring at me, almost unwillingly.

Strange.

“Uh…I’m able to read body posture and predict what you’re thinking. Not tele—” he clears his throat, “Not reading thoughts.”

Reading thoughts? What a strange way to speak of knowing what I’m thinking of.

“And, thank you?”

“Huh?”

“For the compliment, I suppose.” I gasp, meeting his eyes.

Did I say that out loud and call him adorable? Wait, don’t think that Mila, he ‘reads thoughts,’ remember…?

“My Lady, I really must leave,” he chuckles and glances down, and I realize that my fingers grip tightly to his sleeve again. Poked up (embarrassed), I drop my hands to my side.

“I must’ve been so uncourtly. I apologize, Monsieur.”

“It’s quite alright—Asher will do just fine.” He laughs in such a relaxing and adoring way that I can’t help but meet his gaze again. But as I predicted, that emotion doesn’t seem to last and he’s frowning again.

Are his cheeks pink?

…

Are mine?

But when Asher clears his throat. His voice is suddenly deep, low into a whisper, so low that it almost sounds like a growl. “However, I must warn you that you must beware of the one that will get very close to you…Excuse me.”

He fixes his sleeve and walks away, leaving me on the dance floor, alone, frightened, and stunned by his words that is echoing through my mind even after he left. I must’ve drifted off because by the time I looked, he is nowhere to be found. I clumsily excuse myself away from the dance floor.

Perhaps he is a prophet, I think. That would explain the ‘reading thoughts’ thing.

I find my way back to the dining table where the captain and Raven are engaged in conversation. Not wanting to bother them, I head out for some fresh air.

I find myself at the balcony where prince Nolan and I were at earlier this evening. It seems different somehow, but I don’t take much notice of it. The moon is full and round, and stars make little speckles in the dark. It’s like someone spilled white paint onto a black canvas. I wish I could paint.

I remember how Mother used to paint for me. Portraits she painted were so perfectly made as if they were printed. The details so precise and beautifully organized merely is terrific. I still have one of her paintings in my room. It’s not too big, so I carry it with me everywhere in a protected, clear case.

Someone speaks softly, breaking the silence. I glance down to see a figure in the yard—his dark silhouette bends over on the grass. I can’t make out his face in the dim moonlight. He’s muttering to a cat, and I can just barely make out its slim silhouette.

It meows.

Once.

Twice.

And looks up at me—straight at me. I look around, but its bright yellow eyes stare directly at me and nothing else. Yet the man doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. The yellow of the cat’s eyes seems to glow brighter every second I look at it—it draws me in. I reach towards it with one extended hand. A loud pop sounds in my ear, I hear it, but I don’t react. Somehow, I need to get to the light. I need to reach the end.

I needed it.

“Answer it…” a voice whispers in my ear.

“Answer…the call…”

The cat meows and rubs itself on the man’s leg. I don’t realize when I tumble over the gates. I don’t realize anything until I’m looking up at the stars, the wind blowing my hair upwards, away from gravity while my body falls. The light disappears, then everything goes black.

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Thanks, with lots of smiles

☆•Yiona•☆