The Cold Prince

16

Word Count: 2296

~Avila

My footsteps are silent as I pass through the house.

I shouldn't even be doing this.

After seeing the rebellion mark in that book and realising Emerick sports one on the top of his hand, I vowed I would never see him again.

Yet, when I read the note he left for me on my bedside table this morning, I felt tempted the entire day to meet him where he requested. And now, that's exactly what I'm doing.

I can't help myself. I need to know more about him.

Heaving the tall library doors open, I slip inside. It's dead silent in here. I weave through the towering shelves, inhaling the smell of old books and leather.

I find Emerick staring out the single, large curved window that takes up half the wall on the north side of the library. It dwarfs him, the blue tinted moonlight draped over his figure.

He turns as I approach.

"This is so dangerous," I hiss, glancing over my shoulder. I know no one followed me, but if we did get caught, it would be bad.

"No one will come in here at this hour," he assures me, tilting his head to the side.

I shift uncomfortably. I've always been a little afraid in his presence, but this feels different. Knowing he's a rebel, someone who wants terrible things to befall my reign, makes this interaction all the more terrifying.

"How did you even get in?" I question.

"I have my ways." He smiles knowingly. "How are you?"

I tug out a chair tucked under the reading table, slumping into it. I'm considering getting straight to the point and interrogating him on his rebel marking, but I'm going to hold off.

First, I want to see what he has to say to me.

"Stressed. I met my father, and my supposed friends," I admit, brushing my cool fingertips over my temples. "And the world knows I'm alive again."

"So I heard." He paces in front of me, his big black boots causing the wood to creak uneasily.

"What are people saying?" I ask tentatively.

He drags his gaze over me, those harsh black eyes softening a little. "They are confused, but mostly grateful."

I drop my head into my hands, digging my fingers into the roots of my hair. The revelation of my 'recovery', as it has been branded, has spread like wildfire throughout the territory. Roel has purposefully kept people's reactions from me so as not to overwhelm me.

"Are any of them wondering if dark magic is what cured me?" I whisper hoarsely.

Emerick hesitates enough to confirm my biggest fear.

"Ugh great," I groan, tipping my head back.

How am I supposed to rule over these people now? All of this puts into question how fit I am for the throne, and now no one is going to trust me again. They will spend my entire reign wondering whether I'm part of some dark curse.

"I'm also having a ton of flashbacks. Just to add to it all." I smooth my hair back, trying to calm myself. I'm not about to start having a breakdown in front of a rebellion member.

Emerick pulls a chair in front of me, sitting in it.

"What of?"

"My life. My parents fighting, me and Vade fighting...I feel like I'm going insane." I shouldn't be divulging this to him, but it feels good to have someone outside of this place hear it.