The Cold Prince

4

Word Count: 1434

~Avila

I clear my throat, shifting uncomfortably.

This isn't how I wanted to meet my future husband. I've got dirt and blood on me, and he stands amidst the shadows like they bleed from him.

"So...You're him," I let out, trying not to take a wary step backwards.

He raises his brows. "Him?"

It's frightening, knowing that he knows more about me than I know about myself. There was a whole life I lived before dying, and I'm the only one not privy to it.

"The man I'm supposed to be marrying," I breathe.

My gaze drifts down to his hand. No ring. Maybe it isn't confirmed that we are still to be married. I mean, what if in the time that I was gone, he moved on.

I wouldn't blame him...

He takes a step toward me, his hands gliding into his pockets.

What I've deduced so far is that he's an intense person, and I've only been in his company for a few minutes. His gaze hasn't shifted from me since he stopped trying to see what I was chasing after. I'm not even sure those steely grey eyes have blinked.

"So it's true, then. You've lost your memory," he murmurs.

"I didn't lose my memory. I died," I say flatly.

He exhales softly, his jaw tightening. I've officially decided he's much more handsome in person than he is in the photo.

I realise, in the back of my mind, that I can count on one hand how many faces I've seen since waking in the tomb. However, there is no way his beauty isn't otherworldly. I can see it in his stature, in his hollowed cheeks and straight jaw.

"Yes, you did die." He says it uncomfortably, still confused on how I'm standing here. "And now you're alive."

"You sound disappointed."

He frowns a little. "No. I'm just...trying to comprehend that I'm seeing you, Avila, standing in front of me alive."

I smile awkwardly. "I'm definitely alive."

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to act in this situation. He's a stranger to me, but I am not one to him. I'm not sure how he expects me to act, what he expects me to say.

We were to be married. We must be lovers, in his mind.

"If you told me I'm dreaming, I would believe you," he sweeps his hand through his hair, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over him.

I look toward the manor that rears up into the night, wondering if being out here alone with Vade is forbidden. I can't quite grasp the customs here, the rules, but something feels wrong about standing alone in the dark with him.

"You look different to the photo I was shown..." I note, biting the edge of my lip shamelessly.

His mouth settles into a grim line. "A lot has changed in the six months since your death. I had to rebuild my life."

I draw in a soft breath. He doesn't reveal much emotion, but I can garner enough from the look in his eyes that it wasn't an easy time for him.

"And now you're forced to marry me again."

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "Mmm. So it seems."

My gaze flickers down to my bare feet, covered in dew and cut grass. He's made it abundantly clear he doesn't want to marry me, that he has no feelings from me.