"You are very beautiful." He pulled her close and breathed into her ear, a warm, minty breeze.
"I've always thought I was." She was distracted by something on the table. She wasn't sure what it was. It was something dark and shapeless, like a dark, crumpled sheet and yet, it held a facet of light in it, like a shadow.
He followed her gaze to the thing. "You mustn't fear it. It will heal and reunite you with your true love."
"What is that?" She pointed at the object with a shaky finger, her voice quivering with uncertainty.
He smiled. "That is a traveler's scrying paper." He reached across the table to her, leaning in and whispering to her. ''All it takes is a small bit of blood." He pulled his sleeve up and pressed the heel of his hand against his wrist. The bright, red blood flowed from his cut and pooled in the circle made by thumb and forefinger.
"But how does it know who I am? The others were searching for it for months. I'm just some girl with two legs and a broken arm. I have no idea why they were looking for me."
He looked at her in confusion. "What others?"
"The one who wrote it. I don't know his name. He had dark hair, beautiful blue eyes, and a broken nose."
"A traveler boy with dark hair and blue eyes, who has a broken nose? Is he the only one looking for you?"
"No, he had two friends, both girls. One had long, black hair. The other had multi-colored, curly hair."
"He has made a mistake."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"He has made a mistake. He has mistaken you for someone else." He handed her the bowl, his hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked from the paper to him, confused. She looked down at his hand on her wrist, then back up to his face; she rolled her eyes to the side and bit her lip, then released it in a gasp and jerked her hand away from his incredibly warm grasp.
He looked into her face for a moment, then shifted his gaze to the paper. "Mistake." He repeated, his voice low and seductive, followed by a husky laugh, then turned his gaze to her again. "I think, my dear, this will make things a great deal simpler," he smiled.
Her eyes widened in horror. "What do you mean?"
His smile turned ice cold and he leaned close, pressing his lips to her forehead in a loving kiss, then he shifted his gaze back to the paper on the table. "You are wrong," he said, his voice even and detached. "I am the one looking for you."
She was stunned, barely able to speak. "You...you're...but...how?"
He smiled at her. "I am a traveler. That's how. A traveler is here in the form of a man who travels through worlds to find a beautiful lost soul. Two other travelers, a young woman and a teenager, were also looking for you. I felt their presence, but I knew they would not stop me. I know now that I was right."
He pushed the bowl toward her. "How did it happen? Did you fall? Did you lend such a little, unimportant thing as a broken arm to another traveler? Did he presume that he could command you because you let him touch you? Did you make a mistake? I told you not to fear the traveler's scrying paper." He gestured to the bowl. "It's just a bit of blood, nothing to worry about." His voice was so low and dark, drawing her in and commanding her obedience.
She started to shake. Her voice was tiny. "I'm not afraid of it. I'm not."
"Of course not, my dear."
She raised her hand to the table, taking hold of the bowl. "You're not going to use it, are you?"
He smiled. "Of course not." The look in his eyes sent shivers down her spine. He stared at the bowl for a moment and it disappeared. She gasped and flinched away from him, but he was very close and the back of her head was pressed against the table.
He shifted his gaze back to her and smiled. "Did I say it was the traveler's scrying paper? I meant to say it was my scrying paper. I'm not surprised he thought it was yours. It does look like the paper he was using to scry for you." He reached up and tugged a strand of her hair, releasing it from the clasp and letting it fall down to her shoulder. He ran his hand over the strands, twirling the hair between his fingers.
She tried to jerk her head away from him, but he held her hand in a viselike grip, fisted around the strands of her hair. Her body was tensed, bending and pulling away from him, trying to escape him without aggravating her broken arm.
"It's my scrying paper," he repeated, his voice low, "but it feels like yours already. I think you will make a wonderful traveler. You have been chosen by the traveler boy and his friends because you are the only one who matched their criteria."
She was sobbing. She stifled her crying and her lip quivered, leaking a few tears over her chin and down her neck, but she held the crying back, trying to remain strong.
"Did you know that every time you cry, the scrying paper fills with a bit of your tears?" He looked down as his lips brushed over her neck, then, while his lips were just above her collarbone, he whispered, "All that's needed is a drop. I'm going to use yours.
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