"No... no, it has to be a lie..."
I kept running. Blood streamed down my face, pooling in the hollow of my collarbone, soaking into the sky-blue fabric of my stola. The corridors blurred past me—torches, statues, doors, all smearing together like paint in rain.
Why do bad things always happen to me?
Why am I so—
AHHHHHHH!
My foot caught the edge of the stair. The world spun. I tumbled—head first, then legs, then head again. Each step was a hammer blow. My forehead cracked against stone. My knee twisted. My elbow struck the wall. My ribs slammed against the edge of a step, knocking the breath from my lungs.
I rolled to a stop at the bottom, a crumpled heap of flesh and blood and silk. My head throbbed. My vision swam. The taste of copper filled my mouth—blood from my bitten tongue, blood from my split lip, blood from the wound on my forehead that would not stop weeping.
If I am to die, let me die.
Let everyone rot.
I lay there, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. The torches flickered. The shadows danced. The world was silent except for the roar of blood in my ears.
I will never forgive you, heavens, for taking all that I cared for.
I will never forgive you, Mother. Just hope I never see you again.
I will—
I forced myself to my feet. My legs shook. My knees buckled. I caught myself against the wall, my palms leaving bloody prints on the stone.
I stumbled forward. A door. I needed a door. Somewhere to hide. Somewhere to die.
I found one—heavy, dark wood, carved with twisting patterns. I pushed it open and fell inside, collapsing against the door as it swung shut.
Thud.
My head struck the wood.
Thud.
Again.
Thud.
The patterns on the door—raised, sharp, unyielding—bit into my flesh. I pressed harder. Blood streamed down my face, over my eyes, into my mouth.
What is wrong with me?
This is dying.
This is what it feels like.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
"Is this insanity? Or madness?"
The voice came from behind me—cold, deep, smooth as silk over steel.
I froze.
My blood-soaked fingers stilled against the door. My breath caught in my throat. Slowly, I turned.
---
A naked figure stood before me.
Water dripped from his body—rivulets tracing the lines of his chest, his stomach, his thighs. His skin was pale as moonlight, smooth as polished marble. His hair was long and white, falling past his shoulders like a waterfall of snow. His eyes were the color of a winter sky—pale blue, cold, piercing.
I blinked. My vision blurred. His form seemed to waver, to flicker—one moment solid, the next translucent as glass. The candlelight bent around him, warping, twisting.
Is he real?
Or am I hallucinating?
The blood loss was consuming me. I could feel it in the way my knees trembled, the way the floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. The edges of my vision darkened. The world narrowed to a tunnel—and at the end of that tunnel, he stood.
"You are bleeding on my door," he said, his voice sharp. "That is very rude."
I stared at him. At the water dripping from his hair. At the pale column of his throat. At the—
My eyes drifted lower.
Is he human?
No. No, he cannot be.
Look at him.
Look at what hangs between his thighs—
I forced my gaze back to his face.
"And you are mannerless," I spat, my voice cracking. Blood bubbled on my lips. "Showing your dangling pipe between your thighs like you have no shame. Are all dark creatures useless? Do I have to tell you to cover your madness, or do you prefer I end you now?"
His eyes widened. His jaw tightened. The muscles in his neck corded beneath his pale skin.
"Do you know who you are talking to? How dare—"
"How dare me?" I laughed—a wet, broken sound that bubbled blood on my lips. I took a step forward. The floor swayed beneath my feet like the deck of a ship in a storm. I caught myself on the edge of a table, my bloody fingers leaving crimson smears on the polished wood. "Do you also know who I am? You must be one of the palace slaves. So give me respect."
I straightened. My hand shot out, grabbing his throat. My fingers pressed against his windpipe, my nails biting into his skin. I could feel his pulse beneath my palm—steady, calm, unafraid.
"I am a warrior," I hissed, my face inches from his. His breath was cool against my skin, smelling of winter and something sharp. "I kill for a living. And I can kill you if you keep talking."
He moved faster than I could see.
His hand closed around my throat. My back slammed against the wall. The impact rattled my teeth, sent sparks dancing across my vision. But his grip was not painful—It was simply... immovable. I could not breathe. I could only stare into those pale blue eyes, cold as a frozen lake.
"Do you know who I am?" he whispered into my ear. His breath was ice against my skin. "I am Wyatt. The prince of—"
"Liar." The word scraped from my throat. "And why should I believe you? Which prince? The seventh? The separate one?"
I burst into laughter—wild, unhinged, blood spraying from my lips.
"And you." He slammed me against the wall again. Harder this time. My head cracked against the stone, and for a moment, the world went white. "Tenebrarum's whore. The purple-eyed girl who only gets things into her—"
His hand slipped beneath my skirt. His fingers found my thigh. Probing closer.
Even that fool Tenebrarum has never gone this far.
I bit him.
My teeth sank into his shoulder—hard, savage, desperate.
"Sihhhh!" He hissed, jerking backward.
Then he attacked.
His teeth found my neck. I screamed—a raw, tearing sound—but he would not let go. His mouth was cold against my skin, his teeth sharp as needles. I felt him drinking. I felt him pulling something from me.
The pain slowed. Stopped. Vanished.
The wound on my head—the one I had carved into myself—began to knit.
I touched my forehead. Smooth.
"What have you done?" I pushed him away, my hands shaking.
"Saved your life."
"Do you know how many hours I took to kill myself?" The words tore from my throat, raw and broken. Tears spilled down my cheeks—hot, shameful. "How dare you!"
"A warrior?" He laughed—a cold, hollow sound. "If you were one, you would have died."
I flinched.
"Oh, a healer." I spat the word like poison. "When you waste your powers, you will die."
"Coward." His pale eyes glittered. "I am a supreme healer."
Supreme healer.
The words struck me like a blow. Supreme healers were rare—so rare they were legends. They could heal without losing power. They could heal and keep healing, endlessly, tirelessly. Some said they had other gifts as well—beast powers, ancient magic, abilities that defied the laws of nature.
Tenebrarum was said to be a supreme healer. But his powers were so vast, so terrible, that they had created a new title for him.
Supreme monster.
My vision swam. I blinked, trying to focus. The room seemed to tilt—one moment solid, the next as insubstantial as smoke. Wyatt's form wavered before me, his white hair glowing like a halo, his pale skin luminous in the candlelight.
He was beautiful. Terribly, cruelly beautiful. The kind of beauty that made you want to kneel. The kind of beauty that made you want to die.
And I was staring. What is wrong with me!
"You are still staring at my penis," he observed, his voice dry. "Do you love it so much you cannot take your eyes off it?"
Fool.
I was not staring. I was thinking. Thinking of plans. Thinking of ways to destroy your kind.
I turned away. My eyes found the door—and my heart stopped.
The door was encased in ice. Thick, glittering ice, crawling up the wood like living frost. It sealed the frame, sealed the handle, sealed any hope of escape.
He did this.
He wants to—
"Do not rape me!" I spun around, my hands raised, my body sliding into a fighting stance. I had no weapon. No blade. But I would use my fists. My teeth. My nails... anything at all. "I will kill you!"
"My lady." His voice was flat. Bored. "I do not go through used rags."
The words hit me like a slap.
"Let me go."
"I saved your life." He stepped closer. The ice on the door creaked, groaning as if alive. "The ball is being held for the bastard prince. You will be my dance."
His dance.
I opened my mouth to refuse—
"You owe me that. There is no refusal."
I do not think I can dance...or move but for my revenge to take place I have to.
---
To be continued...