'Match. Mate. Soulmate. Fate. Fated. This complicates things.'
Tiraris looked at him stoically before nodding her head. "You have explained, now you must listen. I told you once before that I am of Serian descent. My appearance is not the only thing that comes from the ancient Fae blood. Fate or god, whatever you want to call it, has a way of putting us back in our place when we get out of line. When humans start forgetting where their roots are buried, fate steps in. Suddenly, after centuries of dormancy, generations of newborns will start showing signs of their ancestral roots. Each generation becomes stronger and their traits more noticeable than their predecessors until it is born.
"My mother's father had the strength of fifteen men. His son, my uncle, could outrun a horse and keep running for days before ever tiring. My mother," she paused reminiscing. "My mother was-is-the most beautiful woman you will ever see. I do not even come close in comparison. Her voice..." Tiraris trailed off licking her chapped lips. "They say she could sing Kia herself right down from the heavens." She snorted rolling her eyes. "Mother could and would sing the birds down into the palm of her hand. She hoped one day to become High Lady of Tirial. Her lullaby to me was the song of histories. Any man who ever laid eyes or ears on her was instantly entranced and enthralled, including the man she was betrothed to and eventually married.
"My mother's husband was a soft-spoken man. He too seemed to carry a gift of his own. While he never once raised his voice, he could settle any argument with just a few wise and patient words. Whatever he said, always came to pass. People respected him for that. It is unknown whether his gift was from seer blood or not. Whether he just saw things and then shared the truth, or that because he said things they became true is also unknown. All I know is, is that he was never wrong.
"When they married they tried to conceive and failed. After several years of trying, my mother finally birthed a son. He was stillborn. Desperate, they began to ask around for help until at last a man came forth from one of the outlying villages. With his help, she conceived. But, unbeknownst to her husband she soon miscarried. Secretly, she sought out the man and," Tirairs stopped, shaking her head angrily. "And she invited him into her heart and her bed. So was conceived the generation's it, the demon-child they named, Tiraris."
She chuckled at a joke only she seemed to know. "But, my story does not end there. My childhood was a good and uneventful one. An occasional outburst of my gift would spark up but, nothing easily memorable.
"Then I turned nine. On my ninth birthday, my mother sang a little songbird to me. That night, I saw a group of rowdy boys stone him from a tree. I chased them away and held him in my hands. His heartbeat was so faint, I did not know what to do. I became hysterical. That was the first time I felt the fire ignite within me. But, without the proper understanding of what it was, I could not not stop it. It ripped and tore its way through me, healing my little feathered friend. The last thing I remember is excruciating pain and birdsong.
Tiraris took a deep breath before continuing. Her mind still remembered the pain and was slow to release her from its memory. "While I lay abed for a week, my parents again called upon the healer. He came and woke my from my deathly sleep but, not without a price. He warned my father-in-name that this would happen again and again until it finally killed me. The only way for me to survive was to learn to control it. The healer promised to teach me on the condition that the truth of my heritage was revealed, that I am the bastard daughter of a secret union.
"Through his teachings, I learned to heal myself, but was never taught to control my gift beyond controlling my emotions. I cannot stop it, nor can I use it. Healing you was a miraculous first for me. By sheer will, I converted negativity into a constructive force.
"My father-in-name rejected me and cast out my birth father when he found out what I was. My mother tried to marry off her shame. But, any man who claimed me for his marriage bed, died before the wedding night had even begun. After three husbands, people started to name me the black-veiled bride. My fathers both cursed me at the funeral of my fifth husband. I will never be happy. I will be hurt by men's cruelty. I will die friendless and alone. I will harm any man who desires me. When at last I find my fated, I will ultimately destroy him with my gift. All of this has and will come to pass unless my gift has been tamed."
She looked down at her hands, staring at blood that was not there. "There is no one to teach me my gift, Caden. My fathers are dead, and my gift still remains untamed. Now do you see? I am am unsafe, unstable. I only am trying to protect you because I love you. Caden, the night we argued and I slashed you with my sword I almost killed you. I could not control myself. As it was I nearly killed myself trying to channel it."
At last Tiraris fell silent. Her heart raced as she reflected on everything that had been said, by her, by him. "This is a lot to consider, for both of us. I think it would be best if we had a little time to ourselves, apart. You stay here. I will go," she told him standing up. "I have sent you away enough times now," she chuckled sadly.
She took his head in her hands, bestowing the tenderest kiss of longing she could, before pulling away short. "I promise you, I will come back."
