Chapter 129: The mysterious saviour II
Charis
"What?"
"You have a choice now, Charis," she nodded with a smile. "If you agree, tonight Eamon Riggs will die and by tomorrow, Charis Greye will live again."
I stared at the strange woman.
What did she mean? Would I ever be able to live as myself again? To stop hiding behind this façade of identity and wear dresses if I wanted to? To use my real name? It was too good to be true."
"What do you mean?
"It means you’ll get to live as a girl again," she started saying, but I opened my mouth to remind her that I still had a father out there searching for me desperately, but she continued hastily and without pausing. "Don’t worry, you won’t be under your father again. I will adopt you. No more boys’ clothes. You’ll live as a girl again and as my daughter."
Daughter?
"Is that...is that even possible?" My voice shook.
She smiled radiantly. "Yes, it is, honey. And it will be legal too. All I need is for you to accept it."
"How about my father?" I would be stupid to ignore that entirely. "If he discovers that I’m Charis again, he would try to make me marry Darian Blackmoor."
The woman’s expression darkened slightly at the mention of the name, but her voice remained soothing.
"Don’t worry, darling. You will not marry Darian Blackmoor. You’re going to be reborn, like I said, and I will help you. True, there’ll be one or two squabbles between me, your father and some court session, but now that you’re an adult, you can choose me to become your legal guardian."
She leaned against the bars, staring at me with a kind expression. "It’s a lot to take in now, but I can help you."
"Why?" I asked. "Who are you? Why are you helping me."
"My name is Isolde Knox, and I’m a halfling. A human father and an Omega mother. I do not possess a lot of werewolf abilities because I have more of my father’s genes, but a part of me is still werewolf."
The name meant nothing to me, but something in her tone suggested I should know it. "That doesn’t explain why you are helping me?"
She smiled languidly, "Well, let’s just say I overheard a few people talking about you the other day and I got interested."
I shook my head. "I’m not allowed visitors. How are you even here?"
Her laughter filled the cell for a few seconds before she paused and gave me a knowing look. "Because I go where I wish. And I see what others miss. You’re smart, Charis and I love that. I won’t let you waste away in some Justice Department cage, plus Concillor Pierce told me about your unusual situation."
"Councillor Pierce?" I repeated, trying to remember where I’d heard that name. Then it struck me: he was on the Investigation board and had been the first person to vote for me to remain at the Academy and be retried under its jurisdiction.
"Yes, Councillor Pierce," she nodded. "He knew you were a girl instantly and wanted to save you."
"He knew?" I gasped out in shock. "But how?"
"Your disguise must have fooled everyone but not Pierce. Anyways," Isolde sighed. "Enough of all the questions, okay? I’ll answer them soon, but first, I believe you were framed, and it’s going to be messy trying to prove you weren’t. The best option is to kill you and everything about Eamon Riggs."
The words should have terrified me, but the way she said them with such care and concern sounded like salvation instead of a threat.
"I’m hoping to start a family, and I really wanted werewolf babies, but I didn’t qualify thrice already, so there’s no need to try for something that you cannot get," she continued with longing in her voice. "I know I want you to be my daughter, Charis. I’ll treat you well. I’ll give you the world and you’ll always make choices for yourself."
I stared at Isolde for a few seconds, trying to decipher if this was real or a joke. Was I in a dream? That had to be it because it sounded too good to be true.
"What’s the catch? What do you want in return?"
She seemed to be taken aback by my question, and every hope that had started building inside me since she arrived slowly diminished.
"Of course," I scoffed. "Why did I think this was going to be for free? I knew there was going to be something."
"Well," she shrugged. "There is something I need from you in return. I want you to be the heiress to my multi-trillion empire. I just need you to be trained to become my heir. Is that too much to ask for?"
"Just that?" I wondered aloud, searching her face.
She nodded. "Why else would I need you? As a woman, the older you get, the more you want companionship that surpasses sexual intimacy. I want a child I can dress up with, complain about keeping late nights and boys..."
Her face clouded with a wistful smile. "I’ve always wanted to be a mother. This is my only redemption, Charis. You’re my only redemption."
"But hey!" she suddenly said with a light laugh, pushing away from the bar and coming to squat in front of me again. This time, I didn’t flinch. "No rush. There are still a few hours between now and tomorrow before the transportation from the Justice Department arrives. Think it through, okay?"
Before I could respond, she leaned forward, brushing hair from my forehead tenderly, then gave me a soft kiss on my forehead. As she kissed me, she pressed a package into my hands. It was a muffin that smelled like heaven and a bottle of clean water.
"I’m sorry, I couldn’t smuggle more. They seized it all at the counter," she said as she rose. "You need to keep your strength up, and I hope you can choose me, Charis. I won’t disappoint you, I promise."
Then she reached for her hat and placed it back on her head, covering up the scar on her face. She straightened her clothes and turned, starting for the entrance.
Almost at the entrance of the cell, I blurted out a question that was in my mind.
"The scar, how did you get that?"
She turned back to me and, for just a moment, I saw pain flash in her eyes. But then her smile returned.
"When you become my daughter," she said gently. "I’ll tell you everything you want answers to. Don’t worry."
And then she was gone, leaving me alone in my cell with a muffin and a bottle of water and the most impossible, incredible, terrifying offer I’d ever received.
For the first time in days, I felt something other than despair.
I felt hope.