Page 33 of Reign of Betrayal

“Well, I told you I was sending a healer.” He is serious with that response. He stands there, looking every inch of the Dark Prince he is.

“It’s not about the healing,” I say. “It’s about you gutting a man for looking for his children! You truly are a monster. Your heart is stained black, like your soul. Do you even have a heart?”

He stands impossibly still, the wind tousling his black hair, his expression blank and unreadable. Maybe I have gone too far. Knowing I’ve crossed a line, I walk away from him toward the weapon table, placing the bow down. When I turn, he’s right behind me, closing in on me. It feels like an invisible tether tightens between us, charged and undeniable.

“You do realize he tried to stab me. Me—the prince,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Should I have taken his blade in my gut? Would that make me less of a monster?”

I don’t know how to answer that. It is true I overlooked the fact that the man pulled a dagger on him. But he gutted him. He didn’t need to mercilessly kill him with such brutality. I search his green eyes—for what…I don’t know. He takes a step closer. I take one back, still feeling this tether, this attraction I don’t want.

“Thought so,” he mutters lowly. He takes another step closer, and then another. With each step he advances, I back up until I’m against the tree. He walks right in front of me, so close again, intoxicating me with the lingering notes of wood and leather.

“But you are right, Reckless. I am a monster, and if I had to do it all again, I may have gutted him slower for even thinking he could pull a blade on me.” His eyes are cold, unyielding—the eyes of a soulless killer. I stare in the chilling depths of this Dark Prince’s green eyes and glimpse a void devoid of humanity, a soulless abyss that mirrors the emptiness within his heart.

“I never had a heart. It’s best to remember that.” He slams his right palm into the tree next to my head, making the branches shake. I flinch. He leans down and whispers while looking into my eyes, “To possess a heart is to wield a weapon with a blade dulled by feelings. It’s a vulnerability, I shall never have—one I never wanted for myself, nor will I ever want. Caring for or loving someone exposes a person to having everything torn away and ripped apart. As I declared, it is frailty foreign to me, and a defect I shall forever remain untouched by.”

My breath comes in ragged bursts, my chest moving with each inhale and exhale of breath. How can anyone think of love as a defect? “How lonely that must be? Or are you scared to let someone see you truly and worried about what they would think?” I spoke before I could think better of it.

He backs away, studying me. His gaze travels from my eyes to my mouth, a flicker of temptation and curiosity in his expression.

Then it vanishes, leaving only a blank mask. “I’m leaving for a few days,” he says. “Kylo and James will assist you if needed.” Without another word, he turns and walks away, not once looking back.

It’s the night of the ball. I hate these damn things. My father tells me it’s my duty to attend these formal get-togethers. I sigh, pulling on a black tunic and surcoat with black pants. I tousle my black hair, giving it a deliberately messy look—the perfect picture for a heartless dark prince. My appearance is as empty as I am. I’m a black void, consuming anything in my path. I just want to get this over with. Tonight, I am going to have to faceher. The plan is to ignore her like I have the last four weeks, pawning her off on Kylo and James.

I have not spoken to her since that day in the training yard. But just because she didn’t see me, doesn’t mean I wasn’t watching her. One must keep their enemies close, or so I tell myself. She is dangerous. Nonetheless, the secret is, I love every second of it, and I hate myself for it. It’s a rush like I have never felt before—one that I am unfamiliar with. I am glad she thinks I am a monster. It makes things a lot easier—less complicated—if her eyes are full of fear and hatred when she looks at me

I make my way to the grand ballroom. It unfolds like a magical dream for some, but for me, it’s a nightmare. Ornate decorations in the kingdom’s colors—gold and red with white accents—adorn every inch. Golden pillars rise like the sun, catching the flickering glow of a thousand candles from the chandeliers. Their warm light spills across the marble floor.

Steering through the crowd, it’s hard to breathe. The air is thick with the weight of expectations and the scents of overpriced perfumes. Each step feels like trudging laboriously through mud—tedious and dull. The King’s frivolous get-togethers are nothing more than forced small talk gritted out of insincere smiles. The commotion around me drowns out my groans of frustration with my duty to be here. I find this whole ordeal to be suffocating.

Amongst the sea of people, I finally find Kylo sitting at a table near the dance floor. I walk over, and have a seat next to him. He hands me a glass of brandy. I knock it back, emptying the entirety of the glass, letting the warmth from the liquor spread from my chest to my veins. I start to feel lighter, a little bit more carefree.

Lilyana appears, radiant in a red dress, downing blackberry wine like always. Vanna stands on the dais with my father and her mother, observing the crowd. It’s almost strange seeing her mother out of her room; she looks thinner, paler—almost sickly.

I am lost in conversation with Kylo about the movement and restructuring of our troops in Skahlar whensheenters the lavish ballroom. My breath hitches in my throat. Suddenly, my mouth is dry, and swallowing is a challenge.

Her gown is a solemn shade of gray, prison gray, reminiscent of the prison walls that once confined her. She is cunning. After watching her for weeks, I know she picked the dress to serve as a haunting reminder of her tumultuous past, and the danger that she poses. Reckless. Reckless yet radiant. Despite the somber hue, every curve of her figure is embraced with a quiet defiance, highlighting her resilience and strength.

The neckline plunges deep down between her ample breasts just above her navel, exposing some of her flesh. I bite my knuckles to hold in a groan. With thick black lashes framing her lavender eyes, like a sea of purple that I could drown in, she gives off a magnetic attraction that I am immediately pulled to, drawn to—like a magical tether. I feel a pull to her.

Conflict stirs within me. I am drowning in ambivalence and hues of lavender. She has haunted every waking second and every dream these last four weeks. I am not the only one to notice her. I swear, half the ballroom stops what they are doing as she walks in.

I have always been drawn to beautiful yet dangerous things. It’s like my darkness calls to her. Like the cursed roses, there is such beauty in something so forbidden, so dangerous.

She thinks I am a monster. I need her to remember that. I knew she was there, watching when I gutted him. My shadows tell me everything. She had to think—no, I need her to know Iama monster, and that she should stay away from me. I can never give her what she wants, what she needs. I have never been and never will be capable of love—nor do I want to be.

She weaves through the crowd of people, not paying any mind to the many eyes upon her, until she finds Elm and Larah. She still hasn’t noticed me. Well, that just won’t do. I stand, but Kylo grabs my arm.

“Here, Luke…” He presses another drink in my hand, and I sit back down. He knows me well, too well. “You look like you could use it.” I typically don’t drink like this. I hate feeling like I’m not in control. I knock it back anyway, taking yet another glass. He follows my line of sight to her. “She looks beautiful tonight, doesn’t she?” It isn’t so much a question, but a fact.

“Who?” I ask, but Kylo’s laughter erupts, loud and contagious. He’s caught me, and I laugh at my pathetic attempt to deny it.

The music is loud, bodies are swaying everywhere—some talking, some eating, some dancing. The prisoner is doing the latter. She is in the arms of Elm, smiling widely at him. He is sweeping her across the dance floor. Seeing her in his arms gives me this weird feeling in my chest, a weird tug that is foreign to me. It’s a discomfort I am unfamiliar with. I don’t like it. I feel uncomfortable with the way it settles in me and trickles into my stomach.

Elm must have said something funny because she throws her head back, laughter spilling out as her long, pale lavender hair sways with their movements. The sight is almost bewitching, causing my heart to pause for a brief moment. She looks genuinely happy, carefree. I haven’t seen that since she arrived. I wonder how long it’s been since she smiled like that.

“Prince Lukene?” A feminine voice pulls me from my thoughts. I turn and find one of my father’s advisor’s daughters standing before me. Gods and goddesses help me.

“Yes, Miya?” I know my tone sounds irritated; however, I don’t give a damn.

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