12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Ariella
I jog down the steps of the guild, only a little upset that Marek and Jaxon couldn’t think of any way to remove this fucking collar. My mentor wasn’t surprised that this is the route the king has taken, but even his comforting presence couldn’t reduce the amount of heat raging through me.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, my fingernails digging into my palm so hard I feel the small tears they cause. I shouldn’t be so angry—the prince was only trying to help. But it is not just that he didn’t think me capable of seeing through Sivara’s pathetic tactics, it’s him . I didn’t see him and Gavriel arrive, but I felt his eyes. I knew he was watching me…and that is exactly the desire from him I want, is it not? So why do I find myself so incredibly infuriated any time he’s near?
I want him to get close to me, but I do not wish to be close to him.
Shadows cover me as I amble through the streets of Valoria, back to the one place I’ve longed to be for years but now want nothing to do with. I walk down empty paths, swiveling in a circle to study my surroundings. It’s certainly dark enough …
Even just the thought is enough to make me groan. I tug on my umbral strand and coax my essence to the surface, sighing deeply when the dark tendrils seep from under my skin and caress me as if they know just what I need. Their cool touch is barely noticeable, but it’s enough. I allow them to wrap around my body at their will for a few minutes, ignoring how wrong it feels to force them back inside me when a group of people pass by.
I pause at a familiar voice down the street, my nose scrunching when Jeth and Jaspar’s irritatingly loud laughters echo through the chilly air. Light peeks from a building—a tavern by the smell of it.
“—only thing interesting about the wraith is that I don’t know whether the hair on her cunt matches the hair on her head.” I pause as several others laugh at Jeth’s joke. I lean against the building, unsheathing my blade to spin it through my impatient fingers.
“You haven’t fucked her yet?” I don’t recognize the man who asks, but I’d bet my blade it’s one of the other competitors.
“Nah, she’s a tough one—but that’ll make it so much sweeter when she does finally give in. And after I’ve fucked her until she’s raw, I’d like to see what these ridiculous collars do when provoked.”
Any sensible person would fear his obscene words—but I’ve never claimed to be such a thing .
No, I hope he attempts what he says. It’s been far too long since I’ve sunk my blade into another.
My head rests against the damp brick as I count the stars.
I wonder if my mother is out there. I could use my spectral strand to communicate with willing souls, though the thought creeps me out. Fucking with the dead is dangerous and unpredictable.
Even with such knowledge, there is one question that continuously haunts my thoughts: what if? What if she is there and just waiting for my call? Is my father with her? Are they proud of me?
I huff a breath. Of course they wouldn’t be proud. Their once sweet daughter has become the thing even nightmares fear. What is there to be proud of?
An acute awareness fills my senses. Someone is watching me.
I tug at my psionic strand and send out a pulse. One person—male—in the shadows to my left. They do not appear to be advancing; just watching.
I adjust my stance to lean on my arm. My head tilts down, allowing me to look ahead under the darkness of my hood. I nearly burst out laughing…does he truly believe he’s hiding well?
I suppose I could have a little fun…
I spin on my heel to walk in the opposite direction. My head immediately clears when I leave the heady atmosphere of the tavern behind. Angel, he is such an idiot. Has he not trained to improve his footwork after I kindly informed him how loud it was?
I’ll teach him just how easily the conspicuity could lead to his death.
I sharply turn a corner and run, weaving through different alleys. I’m fast enough to make him work, but not so brisk that he’ll lose sight of me. Several turns later and I find the perfect spot to reveal myself. I slip into the abnormally dark alley and wait just beyond the corner.
The moment his body enters my territory, he halts from the blade pressed to his abdomen. This part of Valoria is quiet during the night, leaving only our heavy breaths to fill the silence. I say nothing, letting him peruse my face as I dropped my hood upon stopping.
“Mistaire.” A wave of energy pulses through my body, the hairs on my skin rising. I bite my lip, selfishly pleased with the keen interest he shows in the slight movement.
“Been watching me, have you?” He grins predatorily at my use of the words he uttered to me weeks ago.
“You’re hard to look away from.” Bold. He’s too comfortable around me.
“Why are you following me?”
He shrugs, tilting his head as those gleaming eyes burrow through my resolve. “I saw you on my way back to the castle and was interested in what you were doing. ”
“And why shouldn’t I gut you right now? Especially after that stunt you pulled earlier—I’ve killed for less.” He laughs deeply, leaning into my weapon. “You think that just because you’re a prince, you are safe from my blade?”
His brows furrow. “Well, yes. You wouldn’t murder the Eldorian prince.”
“Oh, I don’t discriminate,” I whisper, slanting my head toward him as if I’m about to share a secret. “I’d slice open your throat without a second thought and sleep just fine after watching your life bleed out before me. And the next day? I’d carry your head around the kingdom, so there was no question about who killed the Eldorian Prince.”
He groans, his eyes rolling as he shifts to lean against the wall. “Fuck, angel, that mouth of yours.”
I pause. “Angel? Do I look like the Angel to you?”
He smiles, causing heat to rise along my neck. “The Angel is said to be beautiful, but cunning. Quick, yet silent. Disarming, but deadly.” Silver eyes slide down to my lips, his fingers grazing the sharp of the blade until they surround mine against the hilt. “So, yes…you look exactly like an angel to me.”
We watch each other. I search his eyes for deception, finding nothing but hungry sincerity. I sense no fear or hesitation. He is not oblivious to my dark habits and corrupted thoughts. He understands the consequences of someone with his status falling for someone with my reputation .
Yet, here he is.
How unworthy I am to have the genuine affections of anyone. Especially the target of my revenge.
Is this not what I wished for, though? I have teased and taunted the prince, knowing my calculated attention would garner his interest. All to get him close enough to me that I can follow through with my plans.
So why does something gnaw at my stomach when I think of pushing this blade any further?
I do not become emotionally attached to my subjects. I do not care for them or see them as anything but an obstacle to my ultimate goal.
I chuckle, the awkwardness of it foreign to my ears. “I’m sure you’re used to women falling for such flattery—fuck, you probably don’t even need to say anything to have them in your bed—but I am not the one, prince.
“Truthfully, I’d consider yourself lucky enough. No one has ever followed me and lived long enough to tell the story.” My threat does not have the desired effect. Rather than seeming concerned, he grins boyishly at me. I hold my breath, if only to hide just how his attention truly makes me feel.
He purses his lips as if he’s attempting to withhold a laugh. “What?” I snap, thankful that the darkness covers the flush in my cheeks .
The corners of his eyes crinkle, his gaze brightening mischievously. “You—the Silver Wraith—just admitted that you find me attractive.” There’s a little bounce to his stance; he seems too excited about something I definitely did not say.
My brows furrow as I ignore the tingling heat spreading through me when his hand squeezes mine playfully. “Is that—” I scoff, seeking for something to cover my loss for words. I settle for storming off. “Fucking delusional,” I mutter to myself as I pull my blade back to sheathe it, smirking at the conversation he has with himself before jogging to walk next to me.
We travel in silence for a time, and it’s curiously pleasant. That is until he speaks again.
“I’m sorry about the trial—the collar and new rules. I had no idea my father was planning that.”
“Of course you didn’t. Your father does whatever the fuck he wants.” I’m only a little surprised that he heard me, with how quiet my words were.
“I know. It’s just—”
I halt and spin to him. “ Do not defend your father to me. I don’t fucking care how great you think he is.” I continue, faster this time, leaving the wide-eyed prince sputtering.
“Wait!” I don’t. He catches up, anyway. “I wasn’t going to defend him.” That gets my attention. I look over and raise a brow, and he surveys the surrounding area in response. “I was going to say that I cannot change his rules, but I don’t agree with them, either. What he’s planned for you all is not right.”
I study him. The square of his jaw that wraps around to a soft point, connecting to plush lips. His dark lashes are thick and feminine. The way his hair frames everything…curling at the top, only to part at the right angles to accentuate the lines of his face.
But it’s his eyes that speak to me. The silver irises that somehow match my own anomaly and see much more than I’ve ever been willing to give.
“You’re staring,” he whispers, clearly amused.
I shift, swallowing thickly and berating my incessant curiosity. “Only because I’m trying to figure you out.”
He makes a surprised noise. “What’s there to figure out that I haven’t already shown you?”
“Are you seriously asking me that?” I turn my head to him once more, somehow not shocked that he's being sincere.
“What?” He asks when I stare longer than is considered acceptable.
“You do realize that you are the fucking heir to the kingdom…and you’re associating yourself with the likes of me. Why in the Aether would you willingly allow others to see us together if not for malicious purposes?” I breathe deeply, confusing even myself. When he doesn’t answer, I flick my eyes his way, though he’s no longer there .
I look over my shoulder to where he stands in the middle of the street, shoulders slumped while his face says he’s trying to keep me at a distance. I’ve hurt him.
My chest squeezes.
I unsheathe a blade and spin it through my fingers while I wait for his internal crisis to pass. The emotions flitting through his features pique my interest. Do others always feel so deeply?
I think I used to—when my parents were alive. After my mother’s death, I stopped smiling as much. The colors around me dulled, temperatures were more unbearable. I began asking myself why I ever enjoyed any of my hobbies…we only live to die, anyway, so what’s the point? What about that knowledge makes anything about life enjoyable?
But then my father was killed and my heart was no longer empty. It was overflowing with anger; a rage that could level both realms. I no longer enjoyed doing anything, choosing to focus all of my energy on training for the day I would kill the bastard that took the last of my family.
But Marek saw the struggle within me, as I warred with needing to feel nothing but being forced to feel it all.
“Ari, sometimes the hardest battles we fight are within our souls. It’s a lonely journey to find a companionable peace, but you will fail at every turn if you do not train your mind as you do your body.”
“It’s useless! My head is too messed up—I can’t do it!”
“Okay. Then we’re done here.” He stands, leaving me alone on the floor.
“What? Why?”
He looks pointedly at my fists. “I cannot help you if you’re unwilling to try.” He crouches before me, the intensity in his eyes a little frightening. “I see you, Ariella. I know why you train as hard as you do. Why you fight to be the best. You have a fire in you that I have not seen in a long time, and if you would allow me to help, I will make sure you are every bit the warrior your heart demands you to be.”
The prince exhales, running a hand over his chin. He moves, meeting me several feet away, the heat of his body cracking the icy exterior I’ve forced. “I know you wouldn’t tell me if I asked why you think you’re so unworthy of affection that you accuse me of being malevolent when I give you a touch of mine—so I will not ask. I’m unsure why you think so poorly of me, but it’s clear I’ve failed you in my duty to prove otherwise.” He pauses. “Well…maybe I do understand. I did try to get you kicked out of the competition not too long ago.”
A laugh escapes me, and I clear my throat to mask it.
“Did I just make you laugh, angel?” Figures. The arrogant bastard grins at me, a wild gleam forming in his eyes.
“No,” I claim weakly, spinning to continue the walk back.
“You have three strands, right? ”
“Yes.” That is technically the truth—not that I hold any qualms about lying. Especially to the prince.
“And from two different affinities? That’s not very common,” he remarks suggestively. I won’t ask what he’s alluding to, nor indicate there’s anything more than what he’s stated.
“You’ve read my file, I see.”
“Of course I have—I want to know everything about you.” I laugh mirthlessly, raising a brow at the two men eyeing us from ahead. They continue to watch hungrily the closer we get.
I throw off my hood and step around the prince, daring the men to continue with their advances. The taller one sputters at the sight of me, jerking the hand that holds a cup, covering himself in a foul-smelling liquid. The other pushes at him, both stumbling as they run in the opposite direction.
I tilt my head back, feeling his eyes on me like a blazing flame. When I face him, I frown, sucking my teeth. “Where is Gavriel?” He blinks several times, brows creasing.
“I sent him back when I saw you.”
“Fuck’s sake, prince. Have you no sense of self-preservation?” My head throbs.
The fine clothing he wears—black trousers with a silken top covered by a vest that was clearly made with the highest quality leather. I will not even comment on the brandishing of the royal crest that he proudly displays on each collarbone .
“What could possibly be wrong with my clothes?” He exclaims when I look at his shirt for the third time. I will never admit it was his arms that snagged my attention.
Not even the Angel could pry such confessions from me.
“That’s the problem—nothing is wrong with them.” His head tilts. An insult rests on my tongue. “Those men were just about to do things to you that you couldn’t even imagine exists. You’re a walking target for fools like them.” I gesture to his outfit.
His lips twitch. “Careful.” He takes a deliberate step. Another. “Or I’ll start thinking you care about me.” Silver eyes dare me to deny it.
But he has a point…why did I step in between them? I could have easily stopped any assault they attempted, but I didn’t allow it to go that far.
“Let’s go.” His answering chuckle irks my patience.
One last corner and we’re finally upon the castle gates. I do not give the guards satisfaction by acknowledging their curious stares—let them talk. The prince can make his own choices, and if he is unconcerned with his name being associated to me…that is not my mess to handle.
I walk through the front archway, a bounce to my step. It’s as if my body knows how close we are to sleep and is just as desperate as I am. Turning right toward the guest wing, I do not concern myself with parting words for the prince .
If he needed someone to coddle him, he should have stalked one of the noble women instead.
But it’s not just my steps I hear. My head snaps to the prince, eyes widening when he continues to walk next to me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He grimaces, scoffing at whatever his expectations were left wanting. “Walking you to your room.”
It’s my turn to scoff. “As if I need an escort?” A heavy gust of air blows from his mouth as he shakes his head.
“People can do nice things for others outside of predetermined obligations, you know. They can also want to spend time with others just for the sake of their company, and not because they’re scheming.
“Not everyone is a product of your world.”
A rebuttal sits on my tongue, though my traitorous lungs will not grant me enough air to say them. I tap a finger against my thigh as we stroll to my room in a comfortable silence.
Maybe his company is not so bad.
It’s unfortunate he will be dead soon—I may have enjoyed his friendship.
My shoulders drop when my door comes into view, and I mutter a goodbye to the prince before releasing my wards and turning the handle.
“What the fuck was that? ”
I freeze. Never once have I failed to conceal my forbidden essence.
I half turn, contorting my features in a way that hopefully hides the blood-souring nausea wrecking my insides. “What was what?”
His eyes narrow, and he saunters forward, inspecting the door thoroughly. “How did you do that? Those were wards, were they not?” Observant prick.
“How could I possibly have wards, prince?” My hand drops from the cool metal, only to hover over another form of it on my thigh. “What are you suggesting?” The challenge in my tone is clear: s ay the words and see what happens.
His gaze skims over my face before landing on the collar. His fingers flutter as if he means to touch it, but holds himself back. Something gloomy passes through his eyes before he meets mine again.
He smiles, this one crooked and soft. “Keep your secrets, Ariella,” he whispers before spinning on his heel and disappearing into the shadows.