Chapter 26 – Eyes of Fear (2) 

She knew intuitively he was trying to see her eye color in the light.

What should I do? It’ll only be more suspicious if I just run away now!

Gris could only pretend she was blinded by the sun and keep her eyes half-closed, desperately praying that the sunlight will help her eyes appear a little more brown like Yuliana’s.

She was observed by a pair of pale blue eyes that purposely scanned her irises.

If the men she met before had lust in their eyes, in Vianut’s were wariness and curiosity. She was terrified of being raped by those men, but this man in front of her was capable of doing anything to her, even taking her own life which was more frightening to her than the former.

She wanted to shake off his grip when his voice struck her head.

“Your eye color is beautiful,,.” he told her instead.

Her heart started to race without control. What could she reply to him? Should she give an excuse? Or did she have to admit her sins, beg for her life? Then Stephan would come after her. She felt the blood drain from her body.

Just then, Quentin, uncomfortable with Vianut grabbing a lady’s face and staring at it as if looking at a petty item, urgently blurted out a remark.

“I, I also thought the same, sir. Her eyes are like sparkling jewels.”

Vianut let go of his hand as if he had seen enough.

“Yes, so much that I want to collect them.”

A blood-freezing sight flashed before Gris’s minds. She imagined a pair of red eyes on a shelf in his dark collection storage room…her eyes.

She felt a dull pain starting from her irises. Afraid they might actually pop out from their sockets, she closed her eyes for a few moments and opened them again when she heard his voice addressing her.

“They are eyes full of fear.” Vianut told her.

Gris found herself speechless.

“Like you have sinned.”

Feeling that he had read her mind, Gris anxiously flushed. She felt captured by a predator, smacking his lips in front of a delicious feast it was about to take part of.

“I, I, um….”

She had to say something. Something to keep him from suspecting. But with what excuse? She thought of saying she was ill and had to return to her room.

Gris tried to keep herself sane, bringing her eyes to focus on something. Unlike her, Vianut was calm, keeping his gaze on her as he rested his chin on his hand.

“I heard you sing last night.”

Gris suspected that he wanted an explanation of what she was singing the night before. But it was impossible for him to know it. It was a song known only among the royal family of Grandia. Her forehead was beaded with sweat.

Teer started to annoyingly bark at the butterfly which had been teasing it, for it could not easily catch the flying insect. Teer, realizing that the butterfly didn’t feel threatened by the barks, took out its frustration on a white fluffy flower, on the ground and started gnawing on it.

Trying to think of a way to escape his questioning, Gris looked around her for help and her eyes landed on the flowers. It was similar to the cotton flower she once saw when she and her family visited the southern region of Grandia. She remembered what Adrian had said in the whorehouse…

“If only I had the white flowers in my front yard, I could have succeeded in my plan.”

“White flower?”

“Yes. The white flowers with roots that look like cotton. Their roots can become poison if you boil them in rum for a long time. It’s a deadly toxin that can melt your gut and make you vomit blood until you die.”

Gris had no clue if that white flower was indeed what Adrian was talking about, but it would be bad if Teer accidentally ate it. She jumped out of her seat and bowed her head.

“I have to go now because of Teer. I am sorry to have wasted your time, sir.” She hurriedly exclaimed, while making a fuss that it will be dangerous for the puppy to eat the plant.

Worried he might ask for details about the song the longer she stayed with them, Gris turned and ran down the stone path and carried Teer with her.

Only when she was far enough, could she finally breathe. But she was still close enough to hear them. She heard Vianut’s voice.

“Teer?”

Quentin’s response followed.  “I think it’s the dog’s name.”

Probably thinking it wasn’t a suitable name for a dog, he corrected him indifferently. “Handwarmer.”

Only a handwarmer, the dog was just that.

***

Another eventful day faded away to begin a new one.

Gris once again, didn’t get enough sleep; she had a nightmare about being chased by a suspicious man. Even in rest she couldn’t find peace.

Laurel came by early in the morning to remind her she would be getting a number of lessons that day. Gris didn’t understand what use it would be for her to study so many things she never would be able to apply, but she couldn’t complain about it. It was probably important for Paola or Stephan that she took the lessons.

As she dressed up, she heard a knock come from her door and she imagined Vianut coming to find her with bloodshot eyes. It was only a matter of time he found out his sister was a fake coming from a whorehouse. How angry and insulted would he be to find himself calling a whore his sister.

But luckily, it was only Paola’s butler that came to her, saying Paola offered to eat breakfast with her, and so Gris had no choice but to obey. She followed the butler and sat with Paola who was waiting for her expectantly.

The meal went by quite uneventfully. While they were eating, all Paola did was just closely look at Gris’s hand holding the fork and knife.

As his butler took away the empty dishes, Paola ordered for a walnut pie. Gris observed the older lady’s demeanor and concluded that the latter seemed to be in good condition that day. She asked Gris in a more cheerful face than days before.

“How was the party?”

Gris, focusing on every movement Paola took, nodded her head as she answered. “I enjoyed it very much.”

Paola smiled as she agreed with her that the part certainly must have been grand.  “I see you didn’t forget your table manners.”

Gris knew Paola was eyeing on the way she bowed like a noble, as well as her table manners and conversation etiquettes. It was not perfect, but seeing those habits were still in her, Paola started to believe she was the real Yuliana.

Gris didn’t intend to trick her, but her heart grew heavy, regardless. How long was this going to continue?

She was tired of pretending.