Chapter 23: Their past (3)

It could have been merely my imagination but Nikolas' elbow shifted an inch away from my arm from where it sat on the railing. He fixed his posture, straightened his back and cleared his throat.

"Oh hello," Niko gave them a rigid smile. "I didn't expect to see you two today."

The black-haired boy's brows met, a scowl on his mouth. He was quite handsome, if not for how pissed off he looked right now. His features were sharp. His cheeks were perfectly defined, as if the edges were sculpted by a knife, and his eyes had a bit of an upward tilt on them. He was in his boyhood—in where most boys seemed to have been shoved into new bodies that they were still getting used to, with awkward and unsure movements.

Contrary to his dark friend, this boy with freckles was soft. His nose was like a button, round and small. His eyes were the green of rainforests, deep and alive. And his locks were so curly they screamed "puppy boy". He could have been cute if he were smiling, but his lips were upturned in a frown.

I noticed that they were wearing simple clothing, two pairs of tunics and pants.

"You didn't answer the question, Niko." The dark-haired one crossed his arms, his chin raised. "Who's this girl?"

Puppy boy gave me an up-and-down look, "Yeah, Niko. Would you mind introducing us to her?"

I couldn't help but lift a brow, unlike earlier they weren't holding back on showing their hostility anymore. Who could they be to Nikolas to give me this kind of treatment?

Nikolas huffed out a breath, pushing himself off the railing. He swept stray strands of silver off his forehead before saying, "Will you both stop this—whatever this is you're trying to do? You're scaring her."

"I'm not scared." I got off the railing as well to face the two boys with their imposing and rude attitudes. I had to tip my head back to fully stare them in the eyes, holding my ground. These wimps thought they could make me shake just by glaring and scowling. Hah!

"Oh, you're not?" A corner of the dark-haired boy's lips tugged upward, a spark of challenge in his hazel gaze.

"Ivan, stop. You won't get anything by trying to intimidate her." Nikolas grabbed the boy's—Ivan's forearm but he shook his hand off.

"She's a noble, isn't she?" Puppy boy said . . . looking betrayed? "An upper class daughter."

He uttered the last words as if they tasted rotten in his tongue.

"So what, Mel?" Niko said. "She's just a kid, like us."

Ivan smirked, stepping close and leaning to me, scrutinizing me further. I did my best not to falter, hardening my expression even more. I was proud to come from a noble family. But by their expressions, why did it feel as though I should be ashamed of where I came from?

"Just a kid?" Ivan said. He was so close. "But bred and born from the same nest filled with pretentiousness and arrogance. She is not like us."

I couldn't take it. I couldn't comprehend where this hatred and seething came from. Turning to Niko, I said, "What's wrong, Niko? Who are these people? Why are they being like this?"

I made sure that my voice came out strong and demanding, but not to the point where I sounded outright stuck-up.

"Don't mind them Lily, let's go home." Nikolas got in between me and Ivan. "Your mother will be looking for you."

"Lily." Puppy boy, Mel, said it as though my name sounded horrible to him.

"Ah, Lily." Ivan chuckled with dry amusement. "Yes, go crawl back to your big house where your frail and delicate trophy wife mother is waiting for you."

"Ivan, you've just went beyond the line there, my friend." Nikolas' tone was filled with warning.

So they were friends. That didn't matter now.

"My mother is a warrior." I replied calmly.

It was true, of course. She would not be part of the Quartet if she were not so.

It seemed as though Ivan and Mel did not hear me. Ivan pushed Nikolas aside and inched closer to me again.

"Well aren't you a little mouse?" He tilted his head in a totally condescending manner. "Cowering behind Niko like that."

I scoffed. "Who, me? It's you who reek of rat piss."

I must have struck a nerve with that one, because Ivan's hazel eyes went hard as stone. He turned his back to me and I felt a brief wave of victory. It was brief, for his fingers twitched and instantly I felt a force land onto my cheek, my skull knocked back into the railing.

My ears were ringing, and stars blotted my vision. I clutched my cheek that was singing with the hot flare of pain.

Damn it, I didn't even see anything. Once my bearings returned, I could see that Nikolas was screaming at Ivan. And Ivan . . . there was a flurry of wind that surrounded him, as though a small tornado had caged him.

I spat blood into the ground. "A wind-wielder, huh? Interesting."

The three boys spun to me. Niko's eyes were wide with panic.

I could feel something wet dripping down my brows—blood, from where I hit my head earlier.

Rolling my shoulders, I grinned at Ivan who looked so mad his pupils seemed to burn. I didn't care anymore what I did to anger them so much. Or was it simply my existence that had offended him so?

Whatever.

"All you had to do was simply ask nicely for a fight." Flames ignited upon my palms, dancing gracefully against the wind. "I could have gladly given it to you."

Shock registered on them for a second, but Mel and Ivan quickly put up their guard. Nikolas was looking between us repeatedly, obviously torn on which side to choose.

I didn't wait for him.

My fists punched the air, and great streams of twin flames launched themselves toward Ivan and Mel.

They were saved by a wall of stone that had sprang from the ground barely on time. Mel had his own fists up and I concluded that he was a ground-wielder.

But the wall of stone didn't save them twice when my flames returned stronger and faster. After the fire was gone, they were lying on the ground. Burn marks hissed on their arms, their clothes scorched with holes.

Guilt rushed in but I stamped it down. It was their fault for messing with me, I convinced myself.

But I felt otherwise when Nikolas knelt beside them, healing them with his water-wielding abilities. Meanwhile, Ivan and Mel were groaning from the pain I had inflicted. Niko kept murmuring words of comfort to his friends.

I walked toward him. "Niko, I didn't mean to—"

Without turning to me, he said, "Just go, Lily. I'll take care of this."

His voice was so empty and cold that its iciness slithered down my spine. And so by sunset, I returned on my own to the estate. I didn't know how I managed to do it even with my mind absent from my body, as if I'd left it by the bank with Niko and his friends—whom I'd hurt.

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