Page 9 of Twisted Souls (Twisted Souls #1)

Zara

I trained with Jeremy every day since that awful day in the village, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain my dislike for him. Despite his arrogance, he proved to be an exceptional teacher—arguably even better than Vincent, though I’d never admit that to him.

Every morning at dawn, we met in the training yard, and Jeremy would kick off our training sessions by taking off on a run around the grounds. I hated him for it at first—running had never been my favorite—but as the days passed, I secretly began to enjoy the routine.

On the sparring mat, he showed me no mercy. Jeremy pushed me to my limits, unlike Vincent, who had clearly been holding back. New muscles ached daily, and I found myself reluctantly beginning to trust his judgment. He treated me as an equal, not someone who needed protection.

I couldn’t deny my attraction to him. Something in my corereacted to his presence, and despite my best efforts to push it aside, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

The night of the ball had arrived, and I paced nervously in front of my window, my emerald gown swishing around my feet. The clanging of my diamond-studded heels against the stone floor echoed through the room, and I anxiously glanced at the small clock on my mantlepiece.

A sudden knock jolted me from my thoughts, and I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as I made my way to the door.

Each step was heavier than the last as I swung the door open to find Jeremy casually leaning against the doorframe. Jeremy's hands were tucked into his pockets, and he had one ankle crossed over the other. Our eyes met briefly before his gaze traveled appreciatively up and down my figure, causing my breath to hitch.

Jeremy’s attire mirrored mine. He wore a jacket and pants made of the same emerald green fabric, both adorned with intricate embroidered leaf patterns. He wore a silken black vest and a crisp white shirt. His attire accentuated his muscular physique, and his sleek leather shoes with squared-off toes starkly contrasted the standard clunky boots he usually wore.

As our eyes met again, Jeremy smiled and straightened from the doorframe. With a quick, practiced movement, he pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. A flash of silver and green was all I glimpsed before he returned it to his pocket.

Turning towards me, he extended his arm with a casual elegance, glancing over his shoulder with a roguish grin. “Shall we?”

My mouth went dry as I took his arm, nodding as we walked down the hall.

“You look breathtaking,” Jeremy remarked as we descended the stairs.

“So do you,” I replied, casting a sidelong glance his way. “Not surprising, considering it seems we had the same seamstress.” My tone was cool, prompting a slight, amused quirk of his lips.

“Strange indeed,” he responded, his eyes dancing with amusement.

I snorted softly at his response, and we turned into another hallway and down another flight of stairs. “My mother will be pleased,” I said, trying to cut through the heavy silence.

“I’m sure she will be. She mentioned as much when I spoke to her.”

My eyes widened in surprise, and I nearly stumbled. “You spoke to my mother about me?” I demanded, and he seemed amused by my reaction.

I hadn’t spoken to my mother since our argument, and I’d been deftly avoiding her. We’d only crossed paths at dinner or in the hallway, always in the company of others. I’d even managed to skip our Sunday tea last week under the pretense of being ill. I half expected her to storm into my room, but she had left me alone.

“It’s part of my duties to converse with both your father and your mother,” he said calmly, arching an eyebrow. “She was inquiring about your escort for the ball, and since you had already agreed to go with me, I thought it best to inform her.”

I sighed. “My mother and I still aren’t speaking,” I confessed. “Naturally, you made her aware.” I shot him a sheepish glance as we navigated down another hallway, now crowded with guests.

“I’m no stranger to family disputes,” he replied, his tone surprisingly warm. “No need to apologize, Princess.” He spoke with a hint of gruffness, but the surrounding chatter made it hard to discern if he was genuinely grumbling or simply speaking with his usual edge.

“Will your family be here tonight, Captain?” I inquired.

“Please, call me Jeremy,” he insisted gently. “And no, they won’t be here.” He paused, his expression thoughtful, before he continued, “My parents died when I was a child.”

I glanced up at him. “That must have been difficult, growing up without parents,” I said, squeezing his arm in comfort.

“That was a long time ago now,” he said simply, patting my hand with his and smiling softly.

“Do you have any siblings?” I asked curiously.

Jeremy’s voice took on a sharp edge as he said, “I have a brother.”

“I’m assuming you two aren’t exactly close?”

He let out a dry chuckle, the sound tinged with bitterness. “We were once very close. We’ve had a falling out recently, and things have been difficult between us.”

Before I could ask more, we stepped into the crowded ballroom where the music and chatter brought our conversation to a close.

My mother’s impeccable taste was on full display throughout the room. Red and gold silk cascaded elegantly over the entrances and arches while candles flickered softly on every ledge, casting a warm, inviting glow. Servants, dressed in coordinated red and gold attire, moved seamlessly through the crowd, carrying gleaming platters of food and drinks.

Across the room, my mother and father held court from their golden ornate thrones. The thrones were intricately designed, their backs twisted with delicate metalwork, forming tendrils of vines that snaked outward like sharp thorns.

It appeared my father had returned from his journey just in time for the ball, as he had promised.

He wasn’t wearing his usual white military garb but had opted for a black uniform instead. I had never seen him wear a black uniform before. It was a refreshing change, but a confusing one. The black jacket, adorned with his medals over the left chest pocket, featured a row of golden buttons down the front. Gold thread outlined the edges of the jacket, creating a subtle shimmer that matched his black trousers.

My mother wore a white and yellow ball gown that echoed my design in some respects, though hers lacked the intricate embroidery. It was elegantly simple but still managed to be striking. As always, her red amulet hung prominently around her neck, providing a vivid contrast against the yellow of her gown. Her hand rested comfortably in my father’s as he sat beside her.

“I hate that necklace,” I mumbled, trailing behind Jeremy as we moved further into the room.

“What necklace?” Jeremy asked, glancing down at me curiously.

“My mother’s stupid amulet she always wears,” I scoffed, and Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Sorry, forget I mentioned it; it’s not important.” He glanced from my mother back to me and looked like he was about to say something when I heard Cynthia's cackling laugh. I turned away from Jeremy and searched for her in the crowd.

She was beside a scrawny-looking guard in uniform, her hand resting on his arm as they shared a laugh. She wore the red dress I’d given her, which clung to her curves in all the right places. The guard’s eyes kept wandering down to her chest, and I rolled my eyes and laughed.

Turning back to Jeremy, I found him smiling down at me.

“What?” I asked, puzzled by his expression.

“I like it when you laugh,” he said softly, making my cheeks flush. He extended his hand towards me. “Dance with me?”

I looked at him, a little stunned, and simply nodded. Couples were already on the dance floor, and the band in the corner of the room had begun a new song.

Jeremy led me to the middle of the floor, his hand settling firmly on my lower back, drawing me closer. His other hand gently cradled mine. I hesitated for a moment before placing my other hand on his shoulder as the dance started.

We moved in perfect harmony with the music, our gazes locked, and we glided effortlessly across the floor. Gods, he was annoyingly handsome. I swallowed hard, acutely aware of how close we were, and noticed a faint twitch at the corner of his lips as if he were deciphering something from my expression.

“What made you want to start training?” he asked, dipping me slightly and bringing our faces alarmingly close together.

His question caught me off guard, but I answered anyway. “I used to train with my father when I was younger, but recently…” I bit my lip. “I just wanted to be able to protect myself instead of relying on others.” His gaze shifted to my lips, and his smile softened. I stumbled slightly but quickly regained my balance, though I was sure he noticed.

Jeremy chuckled lightly. “I admire that you want to be able to protect yourself; it’s a valuable skill.”

“I don’t need your validation,” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at him.

He tilted his head, his lip twitching. The music slowed to a soft tempo. “Do you cause everyone who tries to help you this much trouble, or just me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t like decisions made for me, regardless of their motivation,” I replied.

“I see,” he chuckled softly again.

As the dance neared its end, applause began to ripple around us, but we remained in our embrace, our eyes locked. My stomach did a flip, and I couldn’t tell if he was pulling me closer or if I was stepping closer myself. My heart pounded loudly in my chest, and suddenly, an intense warmth enveloped me.

He released his hold on me, and I quickly averted my gaze, joining in the applause around us.

What was I thinking?! Get it together. I couldn’t have feelings for Jeremy. Nothing good would come of it, and if my mother thought something was between us… I shook the thoughts away.

“Let's get something to drink,” Jeremy said, reaching down and lacing his hand with mine.

I stared down at our entwined hands. His golden skin contrasted sharply against mine. His hands were rough and calloused. The contact sent a warm tingle through my gut, and despite my earlier resolve, I didn’t pull away.

I let him lead me through the crowd toward a quieter corner by the far-off wall. A servant glided past, and Jeremy grabbed a glass from the tray, handing it to me. I moved to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened instead. My head snapped toward him, ready to demand he release me, but the amused smile on his lips stopped me.

“Your mother is watching,” he said, taking another glass from a passing server and sipping it. As he lowered the glass from his lips, my gaze briefly dipped to them before shifting to the dais.

Sure enough, my mother watched us intently. I forced a smile, raising my glass in her direction. She gave a slight nod in return before turning her attention elsewhere.

When her gaze left us, I yanked my hand from his, this time without resistance.

Jeremy glanced back toward my mother, his brows pinching in confusion. “You said you hated your mother’s necklace?”

“Well, yeah. Look at it—it’s so tacky and completely out of place. It clashes with every outfit she wears, but she insists on wearing it.” I turned to follow his gaze, watching as the red gem glinted under the room’s light while my mother leaned toward my father.

Jeremy stiffened beside me. “And she’s wearing it right now?”

I frowned, confused by his question. “It’s kind of hard to miss.”

He looked down at me, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see a necklace, Zara. I don’t see any jewelry at all,” he said, his gaze returning to my mother.

“You must need glasses, Captain. The stone is massive,” I replied, taking a rather large gulp of wine. My eyes landed on Cynthia again. Her red hair spun in the distance as she danced with the same guard. She looked genuinely happy, and I couldn’t help but grin.

When I turned back, Jeremy was still staring intently at my mother. “Jeremy?” I called, snapping him out of his thoughts. His expression had become unreadable, but he quickly shook off whatever was on his mind, offering me a soft smile.

“Apologies,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. Before I could respond, he took my glass from my hand and set both drinks on a nearby table. “Care for another dance?” he asked, extending his hand.

I smiled, slipping my hand into his as we returned to the dance floor.

The hours seemed to blur together, and I was surprised by how easily I began to enjoy myself with Jeremy. It was strange to see him so relaxed. At one point, Cynthia playfully bumped into us on the dance floor, and after a shared laugh, she stayed by our side for most of the night. Her presence made the conversation flow easier, and I was secretly grateful for the additional company.

Duke Atticus had tried to steal a dance, but Cynthia thankfully intervened by ‘accidentally’ spilling wine over his perfectly tailored white pants. This earned Cynthia an earful from the duke in response, but thankfully, he just stalked off into the crowd with no further punishments.

At the far side of the room, the other dukes and duchesses sat, their faces almost bored as they exchanged occasional glances and hushed words. They took turns spinning onto the dance floor, but only with each other. Despite their aloofness, I couldn’t shake the feeling that their eyes were never far from me. It wasn’t unusual for them to watch, but tonight… it felt different.

Duchess Katerina met my gaze then, her smile slow and deliberate. In my opinion, she was the prettiest of them all. Tonight, she wore a large pastel green gown, its edges trimmed with delicate white lace. Her raven-black hair cascaded in long waves over her shoulders, and her olive skin, flawless and dewy, seemed to glow in the candlelight.

Her large hazel eyes fixed on me with unsettling precision, the weight of her gaze unnerving as I returned a small smile in her direction.

I tried to ignore the feeling, focusing instead on the music, the chatter, and the swirling colors of the dance floor, but the weight of her gaze lingered like an invisible thread.

Jeremy seemed completely at ease, his laughter warm and effortless as we chatted with Cynthia and her date.

As the night stretched on, I found myself drawn to him, unable to look away. Maybe it was the wine, but I couldn’t stop myself from staring. I kept admiring the way his cheek dimpled whenever he smiled, the slight tension in his jaw when he noticed Atticus’s gaze drifting our way. The way his lips, full and inviting, parted just the slightest bit whenever his eyes met mine. And those eyes, gods, those molten gold eyes that seemed to catch the light in a way that made them burn brighter than any I’d ever seen.

Jeremy met my gaze across the table, one brow raising in quiet question. My cheeks burned, as I realized I’d been staring far too long.

“I think I should call it a night,” I murmured, standing from the table.

Jeremy nodded without hesitation, rising to stand beside me. Cynthia flashed me a knowing smile as we exchanged our goodbyes, and I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes in response. Jeremy's fingers brushed mine as we made our way through the crowd, then curled around my hand, squeezing gently as he guided us through the crowd and toward the quiet hallway beyond.

We walked in a comfortable silence, the soft sound of our footsteps the only thing between us. His hand in mine was warm, and I couldn’t help but savor the comforting sensation of his touch. He led me through the dimly lit corridors, up the stairs, and toward my room, the tension between us growing with each step.

As we reached my door, I reluctantly slid my hand from his grasp and opened it with a slight creak of its hinges. I stepped inside, the cool air of the room immediately making me long for the warmth of his touch. I turned to face him, forcing a small half-smile.

“This was… unexpectedly fun,” I said, my voice coming out softer than I intended.

Jeremy stepped forward suddenly, closing the gap I had just created. The abruptness made me stumble, but before I could steady myself, his arms circled my waist, pulling me tightly against him. I didn’t resist—my lips parted, and the space between us seemed to thrum with energy.

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “It was, indeed, Princess,” he murmured, meeting my gaze with half-lowered lashes. My cheeks burned, and instinctively, I bit my lower lip. His gaze followed the movement, and his golden eyes smoldered.

Heat surged through me, pooling low in my core, and before I could think twice, our lips were crashing together.