Kael's POV
I really hate humans. It is not all of them, but only those who think that they can come into the world of politics, curses and blades... and will not get themselves killed, or me, killed.
One such human is Lyra Vale. And right now she is standing at the very center of the containment chamber, like a stubborn little flame that refuses to be put out. I watch her, arms crossed, her dark eyes narrowed in that infuriatingly human expression of defiance. The strands of hair slipping from her ponytail nicely frame her face, as if the universe had deliberately shaped her to distract me.
I hold back a curse. Not that it would make any difference. She would most likely still argue with it. She doesn't belong here. I'm certain of it. I can even sense it. But with the council's murmurs, the binding laws of the kingdom, and the curse that gnaws at my veins, I don't have much of an option.
She isn't magic. She shouldn't oppose me.
Yet she does.
Her being I don't know how to describe it. It's speckled with tiny nuances but on the whole, its there, undeniable, a certain heaviness that presses against me the second she steps into my space. As if she was not only human but also not at the same time, both delicate and dangerous.
Last night, I keep recalling it over and over her hands on my face, and the fire going inward. I can't even explain the feeling. Even for a moment the world stopped. Me. Limited. Taken aback.
And I despised that feeling. I despised that she had the power to do that to me. I despised that unconsciously I wished for her to do so.
Trying to shake off that thought, I step closer, making sure I am in control. Under my skin, my magic is buzzing, it is very eager and impatient. I can sense the curse reacting to her, it is almost like a willful animal on a leash. And I know that if I push too much, if I allow it to surge wildly, she could be hurt. Or worse.
The council would see her as nothing more than a disposable pawn.
I don't.
However, that doesn't matter. I am a prince. The Heir to Virellion. Everything I do has to be measured and calculated. Emotions are considered a weak point.
Nevertheless, when I see her, all the lessons on holding back that I have learnt fail.
She raises her hand as if she wants to say something, and I see the very slightest smile on her lips defiance, amusement, challenge. Something which makes my jaw both tighten in annoyance and admiration. I hate that she can affect me like this.
"I'll test you one more time, " I say. I sound calm, though inside my chest there is a tight little ball of anxiety that I want to hide from my voice.
She snorts and crosses her arms. "I'll refuse again, " she says confidently.
Her confidence is like a sharp knife that hurts me in a funny way. Not just a little, it made me curious in a weird way that I cannot really admit even to myself.
Great. Let her refuse. Let her show me that fire. It will make the next step more... enlightening.
I raise my hand. A red light is flickering at my fingertips. The containment runes react by shining and gently humming, thus the energy around us gets orderly. It is a magical cage that is supposed to keep the dangerous power that I can hardly control stable. The curse is not only mine anymore; it is a thing that will devour me if I lose my way, and I cannot afford to lose my way, not tonight, not ever.
Her eyes kept following each of my moves, so calm and steady that I should have been terrified by them. And indeed, I was.
"Do you know what you're doing?" she inquired softly.
I sneered but the truth somehow remained locked inside my head. She is aware of things more than she realizes.
"Yeah," I say. "And so will you."
She frowned. "Are you saying I should be scared?"
I forced myself to take a deep breath. She sees this as a joke. And in some aspects, it is but in the most terrifying ones, it is not.
I move, sending out a controlled pulse of energy gradually into the room. The runes shine more brightly, reacting to the force under my skin. The curse reacts to me. It tries to attack me, wild and ferocious, looking for any weak spot. And right then, I am able to feel Lyra's resistance, unnoticeable but definitely there, like an anchor against the curse.
A fury and shock at her strength rose up in me. How can she do this?
I clench my hands. The fire under my skin wavers as if ready to burst out. My heartbeat quickens, I can hear it hitting my ribs really loud, it is like the warning drum but at the same time the temptation. In case I make any mistake, if I let the curse get out, then she might just be wiped out in no time.
However I also feel a bit thrilled by it, as if it is such an unbearable force that someone may simply not succumb to it.
I look at her, and for a few seconds, all my masks fall off. She is really brave. It is not because she does not know the danger. It is not because she is a fool. It is because she has chosen to be here. Against all the odds.
It ought to irritate me. And it certainly does.
I walk towards her. Further than protocol permits. Further than safety permits. Her closeness vibrates against me, a soft, persistent pressure that makes me lose the balanced, controlled, cold I usually show.
"Get on the platform, " I ordered. My voice sounds more confident now, because I am fed up with pretending. "Put yourself where the runes can measure you."
Her lips start to curve into a smirk. "Or what?"
Or nothing. Or everything.
I hold back the impulse to snap at her, to force her to comply. Instead, I hold her eyes, leaving the silence to stretch out. She does not flinch. And just briefly, I see her as if she were in a battlefield, fearless, strong, invincible.
The idea is risky. And I like it.
She walks onto the platform as if she were dancing though the tension is evident. The energy beneath my feet changes, it hears her, and the runes shine more brightly. My heart beats faster. The curse reacts, a faint growl under my skin.
"Do not move" I warn, though I am sure she won't.
"I'm not," she replies.
The red glow starts to climb my arms. My magic shakes, restless and wild, desperate for freedom. I hold it back, molding it into shapes I can master. The tension between us becomes denser, the noise of the runes mixing with the sound of my blood.
I can tell her resistance is matching mine. Small. Steady. It sings through my nerves, pulling, mischievous, challenging.
I hate it. And what angers me most is that I am attracted to it.
The air is charged with the energy of controlled power. I divert my attention to the details, to the containment runes, to the rhythm of my own magic. Yet she... she changes something in me that I can't even put into words.
A small, brave part of me keeps telling quietly: She is not meant to be here. She is not meant to matter.
And yet she does.
I exhale slowly. A red glow spirals around my hand, the sparks making a tiny crackling sound on the floor. The curse is challenging me, it is throwing and hitting. However, she continues holding. Her being is like a hand that helps get the curse gently.
Once more I close the gap between us. Gently. Thoughtfully.
The pressure is building. My heartbeat is irregular. A warm glow spreads over my skin. My hands tremble a little not out of weakness, but because of the strange, inexpressible attraction her presence exerts on me.
Without any hesitation, she looks right into my eyes. There is no fear, just curiosity and defiance.
I gulp.
"Tell me," I whisper, barely audible, almost a growl, "do you feel it?"
She pauses, and I notice the spark of recognition in her face. There is something they haven't said, something which can't be denied.
"Yes, I do," she says softly.
My chest tightens.
Damn her.
She should be scared. She shouldn't be able to hurt me. She shouldn't be alive like this.
And yet she is.
The containment runes respond to us, glowing and vibrating with power. The air is filled with the taste of ozone and fire. I feel her raw potential power, not exactly, but resistance. Something rare, something dangerous. Something that I still don't have control over.
And I hate it when I want to. I want to try it. I want to figure it out. I want to know what her limits are.
I want to see what happens when the flame of her human stubbornness meets the inferno of my curse.
There is a very dark and risky part of me, which is the part that has been through twenty, two years of training in the use of the blade, magic, and extricating myself from the mess of politics, that is always looking for a fight with this girl in my head. That lonely part of me is, in fact, quite spot on when it comes to being ready for a fight.
The light red glow on my arms gets stronger. I am getting hotter as I am emitting heat. The curse stretches, but I control it. Just barely.
I cannot afford to let it loose, not yet.
She breathes, calm, even, almost unnervingly composed. Her eyes stay fixed on mine.
And in that instant, I see a truth so clear, it cannot be denied.
She is more than human.
And I am at a lot more risk than I even allowed myself to admit. Because I am attracted to her. And that is one weakness that I just don't have the luxury of having.
I step back. Very slightly. Control the magic. Control myself. "You are remarkable, " I say almost unwillingly, my voice low.
She sneers, "You don't know the half of it."
The sting of her words reaches me. Not because they are true. Not because she is mocking. But because the truth behind them makes my curse feel like a heavier load. The inevitability of the council, the inevitability of politics, the inevitability of what she represents is all pressing down upon me.
And honestly, I don't know how to protect her from it. Or from me.
Her defiance, her fire, her human stubbornness is a flame that could set the whole world on fire. And I am standing too dangerously close to what is pouring petrol on it.
I hate that I want to.
And I hate that I am fascinated.
The containment chamber buzzes with a low, soft whirr. The red light of magic dims until only a gentle throbbing is left. The magical symbols become stable, seemingly adjusted to our arrival.
We are still here. Both of us were breathing. Both of us are alive. Both of us sensed something that none of us fully understood.
And I am sure, deep in my heart, that something I never thought of would change. Not the curse. Not the city. Not her. And definitely, not me.
Her rebelliousness and the strength of her presence haunt me as I get out of the chamber. I am the successor to a kingdom. I am both the sword and the curse. Yet, at this moment, I start to ask myself,
Am I the predator or the prey?