Chapter 13
His Gaze

 

Joel entered the bedroom with the books he had borrowed from the library. Darren didn't want to go to the library and meet him there again. He didn't want to look at him. Even for a moment. A terrible day awaited him the day after tomorrow anyway, and probably an even more terrible detention. He didn't want to see him today or tomorrow. Not after what...

To all the Cursed! He won't be thinking about it. He will not!

Darren frowned at his friend's annoyed look.

"What happened? You look pissed."

Joel sighed and put the books Darren had requested on the bed.

"Varis asked about you."

"You're kidding, right?"

Joel sat on the bed and shook his head.

"I'd like to. He caught me in the library and wanted to know why you weren't at breakfast and lunch."

Darren got up from the bed to a sitting position and asked. "And what did you tell him?"

Joel shrugged. "What was I supposed to tell him? He surprised me. I quickly said you had a headache and wanted to stay in your bedroom today."

Darren frowned and said softly. "Why does he care how I spend my day off?"

"I thought of the same thing. Even Wolverson had never asked me about such things. But you know..." Joel paused briefly, "with Varis and his obsession with you..."

"Stop it!" Darren blurted. "It's not funny."

"I know, but you could've really go to the library by yourself."

Darren leaned back against the pillows and sighed heavily. "It's good that I didn't go there. He would've given me such an earful."

"Oh yes, and he did give me the earful instead."

Darren bit his lip and - unable to help himself - asked. "It was that bad? Just because he didn't see me today?"

"Oh yes. He said that meals are suppose to be eaten at this school, not skipped by hiding in the bedroom, and that after dinner he wants to see you at, you should go to Springer, since your headache keeps you from getting out of the bedroom."

Darren looked up and stared at Joel with his mouth open. He had to find out if Joel was joking, but it seemed that no at all. Joel was looking at him irritated.

"You know him," Joel continued. "You know how he can be. Especially for you. Better do what he says, otherwise it will be even worse."

Darren nodded and reached for the book. "Thanks for the help. Do you want to start to write an essay right away?"

"The sooner the better," Joel replied, reaching for the books.

***

(...)

***

He'd missed breakfast while he was in Wolverson's office, so he decided to go straight to the library and study. Joel was gone somewhere and Darren wasn't going to wait for him, and he knew his friend would never be persuaded to study on a Sunday morning.

As he headed down the corridors toward the library wing, he saw the intrigue curiosity on the faces of the students he was passing by, but he paid no attention to them. They can look at him as much as they want to. They can whisper behind his back all they want to. They can mock him as much as they want to. Nothing seemed to be able to reach him now. Nothing.

Except for that chilling gaze of the deep black eyes that glared at him as soon as he entered the library. They widened, sliding all over his body from the top to the bottom and back again. Darren could almost feel the little steps of that gaze on his skin, sliding over him in an almost physical way and depriving him of all the confidence. Master Varis was standing between the bookshelves as if he'd just returned from the far back of the library, and when he saw Darren enter the room, he stopped abruptly in mid-step.

Darren swallowed. Suddenly the desire to learn at this place had faded away... but he couldn't just turn around and leave.

To the hundred demons!

He went inside and closed the door. He saw that the students who was sitting at the tables had stopped their work and they were looking at him now, but he paid no attention to them. He walked over to Madame Aurelis' desk and looked at the books returned by the students and lying on her desk, trying to find anything that might be of use to him, and which would allow him to quickly get out of here. Fortunately, one of the Scouts must've returned a book on medicinal herbs that Darren needed for tomorrow's Herbology lesson, so he asked for it and hurriedly left the library, walking outside the castle toward the courtyard.

The weather was beautiful. The sun was shining so brightly that both the courtyard and the training ground nearby were filled with the students. Darren strode to the side, slightly away from them, and sat on the ground at the very edge of the courtyard wall, leaning his back against it and setting the book on his lap. The sun was behind him, hiding his face in the shadow and warming his exposed neck with its warm rays, when he opened the book and found the chapter on the healing properties of algae. He began to read it, occasionally tearing his gaze away from the text, tilting his head back and - with his eyes closed - enjoying the rays of the sun warming his skin, while his mind was repeating the sentences he had just read, trying to assimilate and remember them.

After a while, when he opened his eyes and bowed his head again to go back to the text and read another passage, he saw in the distance that familiar tall dark figure, who was standing in the shadow of the arcades surrounding the castle, like a motionless statue watching him. Darren's heart fluttered violently and fell down to his stomach.

No! What was he doing here? Why did he follow him?

Darren was looking at the letters with his trembling gaze, but he was unable to see any sense in them anymore.

He has to stop. He's starting to feel paranoid. After all, Varis can go outside the school whenever he wants to. He can be outside and watch the training ground whenever he wants to. He's the Master of this school and he can do anything. Darren needs to stop! It has nothing to do with him! Certainly! It's just a coincidence that Varis came here after Darren had met him in the library. It has to be a coincidence that Varis found himself here moment later, in the place right in front of the place where Darren was sitting.

He glanced at the training ground. He wasn't alone here. The four Assassins were practicing blows between each other, and next to them on the stone wall, three second-year Scouts were talking to each other, laughing every now and then. Darren sighed and, pretending to read a book, sank into his thoughts.

He already knew the feeling when he's being watched like a worm under a magnifying glass. At that time, he always feels a tingling sensation on his skin and a very distinct tension in the muscles and abdominal area... and now he felt it with all terrifying power as well.

Why is Varis looking at him? Why can't he give him a moment of peace? Why does he have to be out here on this sunny Sunday and not in his chilly dungeons? Why?
Darren glanced quickly to the side without looking up - a dark blur of blackness in the shadow of the arched arcades, motionless, watching...

At this moment Darren only wanted to get out of here and go back to his bedroom, but the problem was he'd have to walk past him... He can't come back through the side entrance like some coward...

Gods! Why is he so afraid to walk past him? Is it because he's pretty sure Varis will comment on his appearance? And Darren will have to listen to his comments about the fact that he doesn't wear school uniform? To hell with him! Darren can be dressed as he wants to on his days off!

He looked down at his black velvet elegant shirt and black plain pants. Covered by the white long loose satin shirt he was wearing over his shoulders. Then he glanced at the Scouts nearby and their top green Scouts' tunics, and then at a group of students standing under the tree. Not all of them has been wearing guild robes, but they certainly has been dressed in neat school shirts.

Darren pursed his lips. Yes, he was definitely paranoid. He won't be wearing school uniforms on his days off. If the others wanted it, it's their business. Darren chided himself for even thinking about it. It's all because of Varis! He was so pedantic about that... and he always had to comment on anything that deviated from the school's norms!

Enough of that! He won't be afraid of him! He'll simply return to school, because in a moment he'll go crazy from that leering gaze!

He closed the book and sighed to cheer himself up, then slowly rose from the place under the wall, heading straight to the main entrance.

Maybe the man's not going to stop him... Maybe he'll let him pass... Maybe he's not going talk to him at all... Darren isn't going to look at him and will try to pretend Varis is not here...

He was already so close to the man - who was still standing in the shadows - that he lowered his head even more and looked at his feet.

Maybe he'll let him go... Please, Luciss...

He held his breath as he saw the black cloak out of the corner of his eye. He took another step and another, praying that...

"What is it, Hayden? Have you noticed you're on the school grounds and you're going to change?" Master Varis asked with a deep hint of mockery.

Darren stopped abruptly and closed his eyes.

Of course... the man had to stop him. He had to comment on Darren's appearance. How did he know it would end like this? That Varis would sooner choke on his own tongue than let him pass by uninterrupted.

Darren looked up, staring straight into the shimmering black eyes - the eyes that were now sliding down his body, down and back up, until they reached his face.

"Why would I do this, Master?" he asked in the most neutral tone he could. "If you're disturbed by my appearance, you don't have to look at me."

A chill poured into the Varis' shining eyes.

"Everyone's looking at you. You're dressed so provocatively that everyone turns their heads after you. You love getting attention, don't you? You love to emphasize your differentness, don't you?" The man almost hissed the last words in his face, leaning over him. "You disrupt the rhythm of work at the school with your scandalous appearance. When you had entered the library, everyone broke away from their assignments and started to look at you, instead of studying."

But only you followed me out - Darren thought.

"Then they're the ones who have a problem, because I don't see anything inappropriate with my appearance," he retorted, feeling Varis' words hit his self-control like a well-aimed battering ram.

"But I do see," Varis drawled, once again sliding his gleaming gaze across Darren's body. "This is certainly not the neat and modest appearance that should characterize the students of this school. On the contrary - it's extravagant and debauched."

Darren blinked.

What?

"I don't even know what that means, Master. How can you accuse me of--"

"Silence. You've lost twenty points."

Darren pressed his lips together in a fit of powerless fury. "Why do you always have to comment on my appearance, Master? It's my business how I dress on my days off. Nobody, apart from you, has ever had a problem with it and has not taken points from me for it. Don't you have any more important things to do other than harassing me?"

Darren knew he went too far when he saw a cold wave of anger spreading over the man's face. Rushing into the eyes and pouring out of the mouth in a guttural whirr. "And with that remark, you've just gotten a detention. You will come with me to my office now."

Darren felt as if a chasm was opening under his feet.

"You can't--" he gasped, almost out of breath with indignation. "I just wanted to leave this place and go study..."

"I cannot?" Varis glared at him with his devastating gaze. "I can do anything. I can even tear your shameful clothes off you and burn them. Now, if you don't want me to drag you through the whole school, you'll nicely come with me."

Darren stared at him with wide eyes. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't... He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath into his lungs, trying to control himself. He could feel the curious glances of the students on the courtyard. Gods, he couldn't let Varis really drag him along like a trophy... What was he supposed to do?

"Y-yes, Master," he gasped, though it felt as if someone had poured sharp shards of glass down his throat, and it was almost painful to utter those two words.

Varis turned with a flap of his cloak. "Follow me."

From all the way to the dungeons Darren remembered only the blood pumping in his veins and the red mist of hatred for the tall figure of the Assassin covering his eyes. He tried to follow a few steps behind him so as not to feel the breath-taking brush of the black cloak, but there was nothing he could do about the wisps of scent wafting behind Varis, penetrating forcibly into his nostrils and down to the very bottom of his heart.

After a while they reached a remote part of the dungeon that Darren had never been to before and Varis opened the heavy wooden door... and Darren realized he had never been to his office before. He looked around curiously. The room was dimmed. Only a few candles - burning in candlesticks - illuminated the darkness. There was a large black desk in the center of the room. Almost as big as the one in the classroom. There was a pedantic order on it. Darren could see only a few parchments lying in the center, a quill stand, and a large cup-shaped inkwell. There was an identical chair to the one in the classroom next to the desk - with a high back, craved with spider web meandering overhead. Shelves covered all the walls, filled with dusty books or jars and bottles. Darren tried to see what was swimming inside them, but there were too many of them and the room was too dark. On the other side of the office, to the left of the desk, almost in the corner, there was another door, but where could they lead to?

"Sit down," Varis said, pointing to a small table against the wall. "Put it in the middle of the office and pull up that chair."

Darren looked around. Indeed, there was a small chair against the wall in the far corner. Darren dragged a table to the center of the room and brought a chair to one side.

"Not there," Varis snapped. "Facing me."

Darren looked at him and was almost immediately struck by his intense gaze that almost seemed to wander over his body in tiny steps. He lowered his head in a flash and put the chair in the place where he had been shown, then he sat down on it with a sigh and placed the Herbology book on the table. He heard footsteps approaching him, and on the tabletop in front of him a bundle of blank parchments, an inkwell and a quill appeared.

"Now you will write a hundred times I will speak respectfully to my Master. Maybe it will eventually get stuck in your head and the next time you keep your foulmouthed tongue from answering me in such a sassy way."

Darren suppressed a huff at the last moment.

"As you wish, Master," he muttered, picking up the quill.

What an unproductive waste of time. He should be studying now, not...

He sighed deeply and began to write as he heard Varis walk to the desk and sit down at it.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

He felt an unpleasant tingling on his face. He didn't even have to look up to know what it meant.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

Darren's head was bowed, but he could feel the black chasms greedily dig into him.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

Hell, let him stop!

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

Damn, he was stroking his lips with the quill again instead of writing! He must finally stop doing it!

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

Varis was devouring him with his gaze, and he didn't even try to hide it.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

What sin did he commit to suffer like that?

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

Why does he have to sit here on a Sunday morning and endure Varis' annoying gaze?

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

Because he was dressed ?provocatively'? It was all sick.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

Why, in his utter stupidity, had he thought he could easily walk past Varis?

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

He just wanted to escape that insistent glare, and it turned out... that he's now watched even more closely.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

In the end, he could've stayed under that wall...

He couldn't help the smile from flowing on his lips after that thought.

"Do you enjoy your assignment?" he heard a deep voice floating in the air.

Darren swallowed the smile and looked up into black eyes, which were watching him closely.

"No, Master, I just thought I might've stayed at the courtyard instead of risking, because every meeting with you is such unpredictable that I never know where I will end up this time."

A smirk spread across the man's lips.

"You could have," he replied in a vibrating tone, "but at least you've learned something."

"Yes. To stay in the bedroom next weekend and not risk meeting you, Master."

Varis' eyebrows frowned. "Don't forget that I have access to every part of the school, and if you hide from me for too long, I'll just come and knock on your door."
Something in Darren's stomach twisted.

No, he can't do that! Though as he looked at the dark smile that wandered on the lips of the man, he knew he was completely wrong - he can do that.

"Why would you do this, Master?" he asked, licking his lips. "I guess it's good you won't see me, so I won't provoke you with anything."

"Ah, so you're aware of your provocative appearance?"

Darren bit his lip. "Of course, Master. It's always my fault."

Varis narrowed his eyes. Darren knew his answer was sneering, but he couldn't help it. Everyone always accosted him just because of what he looked like. Every insulting note, every attempt to beat him, every stone thrown... and now Varis.

Without waiting for the man's reply, he bent over the parchment and went back to writing.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

Yes, he won't leave the dorm next weekend.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

He will avoid Varis at all costs.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

He will avoid him...

I will avoid respectfully my Master.

He won't allow Varis to comment on his appearance again and take it out on him for the way he was born.

I will avoid respectfully my Master.

He won't allow Varis to wait for him again and drag him to his dungeons.

I will avoid respectfully my Master.

"Damn it!" he hissed quietly as he noticed what he had written. He struck out the entire sentence with a swing, and then the previous two. Maybe Varis won't notice...

Unfortunately - to his despair - he heard the sound of the chair being pulled back.

Varis walked over to him and grabbed the parchment from his hand. "I see that even a task as simple as writing one sentence is far beyond your abilities."

Darren felt his cheeks flush. "It's because you keep looking at me, Master. I can't concentrate."

He saw black gloved hands resting on a tabletop.

"I wouldn't have been looking at you if you hadn't dressed like that," he heard a deep, menacing whisper just above his head.

"You wouldn't have to look at me if you hadn't stopped me and placed me in detention," Darren replied, lifting his head and staring directly at the black lakes engulfing him.

"I wouldn't have to stop you if you had conformed to the school's standards."

Darren held himself at the last moment from rolling his eyes. Discussing with Varis was like running in circles. It didn't lead to anything other than subsequent detentions.

"More to your pedantic standards, I guess," he replied, unable to hold his lips back.

The man's eyes flashed. "That remark cost you another hundred lines. Now, if you don't want to sit here with me until late at night, I advise you to get back to work and stop arguing with me."

Varis pushed off the counter, turned, and walked back to his desk. Darren returned to the writing with a sigh. He tried not to think about anything anymore, but to do his work as soon as possible to get out of here. At first he even succeeded. He was staring at the parchment and writing that one stupid sentence, trying to forget about Varis' eyes, still watching him, but after a while he realized that he was more and more stifling and every now and then he had to tear the quill away from his parted lips, as he was unconsciously tickling them, trying not to squirm under that hellishly pushy glare. After a while he looked up without rising his head to meet Varis' black eyes. He wanted to let him know that he see the intrusive gaze and that the man should finally stop staring at him so openly... but Varis didn't move. Neither did he say a word to him. Nothing. He was just staring.

Darren looked down, feeling he was getting hot under that insistent gaze. It was warming his cheeks, drying his lips, confusing his mind.

Why was the man doing this? Did he want to punish him somehow for his appearance? Hasn't he noticed that Darren couldn't concentrate and has been writing slower and slower?

In the end, however, he couldn't stand it anymore, so he raised his head and said. "Can you please stop, Master?"

Varis blinked as if he had been pulled out of a trance.

"Stop what?" he asked, and a dark smile spread across his lips.

This man was absolutely impossible!

"Can you stop staring at me all the time? Don't you have any job to do or something, Master?"

Varis raised his eyebrows and leaned closer to Darren, interlacing his fingers. "Are you suddenly disturbed by my gaze? Judging by your defiant outfit today - that is meant to deprave everyone in school and attract attention - you should get used to the stares. After all, that's what you wanted."

"And again with the same thing, Master... Do you really have to be so--" Darren bit his tongue at the last moment, feeling his anger rising again. Varis is only waiting for Darren to lose his temper so he can give him another punishment. He needs to get under control. "Never mind," he choked out and after his words he saw the smile appeared on Varis' lips, and a hint of satisfaction appeared in the shimmering eyes.

"Well, well... So your punishment brings the first effects..."

Darren pursed his lips and looked away from Varis' face.

He hated him! He hated him so much! He could feel the hatred in his throat as he began to write this useless and silly sentence. He felt this hatred trickling down and filling his interior, igniting it with flames. Everything in him was trembling with the desire to jump up from the chair, roll this parchment into a ball and throw it in the man's face. He was looking at his fingers which were tightening on the quill and how strong he was pressing it against the parchment and how it's freezing... He was feeling his lip being painfully bitten.

Stay calm! Gain control! Don't let him get satisfied!

Inhale. Exhale.

He could feel Varis' gaze - even more intense now - and knew that the man was just waiting for any outburst of his anger... but he won't get it! He won't get it!
Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his hand and continued to write. Then he heard Varis' deep, vibrating voice.

"Interesting... Have I just witnessed how you'd contained your anger?"

Darren pursed his lips. He knew the question was only meant to try to provoke him once more. He won't answer him. He won't talk to him anymore. It was the only way it could be over and Varis would let him out of here.

"I asked you a question, Hayden," the man said, and Darren suppressed a heavy sigh at the last moment.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Master," he drawled quietly, persistently scraping the parchment with his quill.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

"Your face says otherwise," he heard the deep voice of the man.

"If you intend to provoke me again, you won't succeed, Master," he replied, without lifting his head and continue to write.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

"Provoke? I'm just sharing my observations with you..." he heard the quiet, thick voice that seemed almost liquid. "It's you who are trying to provoke me all the time..."

What?

Darren's head jerked up, frowning at the Assassin.

Has Varis gone mad? Darren was just trying to write that stupid sentence. The man is the one looking at him all the time!

"I'm not doing anything!" he almost gasped as he felt the flames re-awaken, tickling his insides and licking it in that annoying way. "I just want to do my assignment as soon as possible, but you won't let me do it, Master. I was not planning to spend Sunday with you at all!"

"No?" One of Varis' eyebrows rose. "Then why did you dress this way?"

Darren gritted his teeth in helpless rage. "I really don't understand what's bothering you with my outfit, Master. Master Wolverson has never..."

He was interrupted by a scornful huff. "Armand Wolverson is a blind ignorant."

Darren widened his eyes.

"Don't offend him!" he gasped, feeling the flames rising higher and higher, reaching his heart and eyes.

Varis' lips twitched in a mocking half-smile, and his eyes narrowed, absorbing Darren's fiery gaze with almost greedy satisfaction.

"I'm just sharing my observations with you..." the man hissed, and Darren felt something within him begin to overflow.

No, Varis has gone too far. First he took points from him for his appearance, then he dragged him here on a Sunday and gave him a detention that Darren didn't deserve at all, and then he kept him from focusing on his work and just looking at him all the time and commenting on everything Darren was doing in that typical of him, mocking manner, and now the man even offended his Guardian!

It was... it was... he was...

"Keep your observations to yourself and don't share them with me anymore, Master," he replied angrily, sticking the shining blades of his eyes into the man.

Varis' eyes flashed. With fire and ice at the same time.

"And with that remark you've got another hundred lines..."

Something in Darren exploded, spilling out of him in a quivering hiss. "You're the worst bast--"

"Five hundred," Varis interrupted, smiling venomously. "And if you really intend to finish what you wanted to say, I'd love to swap writing for whipping. And I think you want it very badly..." The man's eyes flashed suddenly in such a disturbing way that something in Darren screamed a warning.

Do you think whipping a Mongrel is a big deal for him?

Darren's eyes widened, feeling as if he was falling to the very bottom of those dark abysses, drawn in by them, crushed and torn apart with perfidious satisfaction by the sharp claws of this unpredictable man. All the breath escaped from his lungs in an attempt to keep his mouth from unleashing a raging within him, untamed gale of conflagration, that was consuming him. He squeezed his eyes shut, breaking free from that triumphant gaze, and lowered his head, pressing his lips together so tightly they were almost white.

He tried to remember how to breathe. He tried to stop his frantic heartbeat. He tried to put out the fire that was burning in him... but Varis kept arouse it again every time. Harder. Stronger. Hotter. And Darren couldn't... he couldn't take it anymore...

It seemed to him that Varis had begun to rise to the heights of his meanness with the Thursday meeting in the corridor, as if he had been trying to hold back till now, but now he was showing his cruel face in all its glory, and Darren didn't think that after all he had experienced from the man's hands and lips, anything else could stab him. For real. Deeply.

He was wrong. Varis could always do that. He aimed accurately and struck precisely. Right at that point in him. That tiny point that still remembered the softness of his cloak, the strength of his hands, the delicacy of his fingers, the depth of his gaze, the scent of his spicy breath... that still remembered all these things... when the man had protected him, had dressed his wounds... the way his hands had slid over Darren's skin, all those strokes, whispers and it was... it was... too painful.

He had to defend himself against it. Against each blow that hit that point. Against every glance that teased it. He had to. So that it does not destroy him... but he couldn't anymore. Varis had been doing it too often... hitting and hitting like he was trying to break something in Darren.

The boy opened his eyes and looked at the parchment lying in front of him with trembling eyes. His own hand felt almost unfamiliar to him as he was watching the fingers clenched around the quill tremble slightly. He was breathing slowly and deeply, trying to get that horrible sour lump out of his throat. When he finally managed to swallow it and regained his composure, he put the quill to the parchment and began to write.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

Varis spoke to him no more. He was just staring at him. Darren wasn't talking to him either. He was just writing. Halfway through the detention, Varis interrupted him and told him to go to dinner, but Darren could hardly taste the food he was eating. Joel was not at dinner, neither Laryssa. He didn't know if he was more happy about it or disturbed.

After dinner he returned to that dim, chilly office again, and resumed writing, still watched by the two glistening stones of the man's eyes.

I will speak respectfully to my Master.

When he finally wrote down the last sentence, his hand almost faint with exhaustion, he whispered softly. "I'm done, Master."

He heard the Poisons Master's heavy chair being pulled away and the man got up and walked over to him, stopping in front of the table and casting his long, dark shadow on the parchment filled with tiny writing.

"Now let's see what you've remembered," he heard a low, deep voice flowing through the air like a thick wave. "How will you speak to me?"

"Respectfully," Darren said softly, not looking up. He saw black-clad gloves resting on the counter.

"I've not heard. Can you repeat?"

"Respectfully," Darren said, a little louder, trying to make his voice the most neutral tone he could.

"Are you talking to me or to the table?"

Darren closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He raised his head and looked directly into the predatory face of the man staring at him. Surrounded by thick, wavy hair, that was hiding it in its shadow. Dark eyebrows were furrowed, tapering at the base of the nose, cut by a deep crease between them. Thin lips were slightly parted, as if waiting for Darren's words to flow between them, and the eyes... the eyes were looking at him as if they wanted to absorb him, drink every emotion out of his face and feed on it.

"I'm listening...", the man drawled.

Darren moistened his lips. Then he said - in a loud, shimmering voice in which the wind hummed and the leaves rustled. "I will speak respectfully to you, Master... but will you speak respectfully to me as well?"

Something in the man's eyes twinkled, making waves on the surface of its smooth black lakes. "If you ever manage to deserve it..."

Darren pursed his lips. As always, Varis had a perfectly evasive answer...

Then suddenly the man took his hands away; and his gaze; and his scent, which Darren was unknowingly inhaling all the time, feeling it spread like thick syrup inside him.

"You're dismissed," the man said, and the boy struggled to suppress an ironic smile that tried to crease his lips.

It was almost dinner time, Varis kept him here all day, and now he graciously let him go. Unbelievable...

"Thank you, Master," he stood up and bowed. Then he left, feeling that he hate this man even more than before; that he had never felt anything like this for anyone in his entire life; that his hatred for Delemiar and the rest of the Assassins was like a tiny spark compared to the fire consuming his body that this man was causing within him - to the fire that probably could not be extinguished anymore. Even by the rain.