[50.1] A ROYAL BARGAIN (part-two)

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[SILVER RAYNE WILLIAMS]

"TEACH YOU?" I echo.

My ears tingle at his statement, and my eyes remain in his, dumbfounded. I search for the lie, there must be a lie, for I feel I haven't heard right, and if I have— then it is he who has spoken wrong.

Either way, this has to be a sick twisted version of what Fang thinks humor is, but I admit I have heard Fang joke better.

This. This was a bad, bad joke.

I have never heard anything more ridiculous.

Perhaps I have underestimated the Prince yet again.
He can joke.

My lips curve upward, threatening to laugh and I barely manage to choke down my chuckle under his still gaze, snorting instead.

But his gaze remains grave and my heart immediately slams back in his chest, laughter reversing, and my lips straighten shut.

I remind myself who I am talking to especially when I realize he looks painfully serious.

Shit, he's serious. Very, very serious.

To balance the influx of emotions settling within me. I grab the glass and take a sip. I only manage a sip because my hands keep shaking and threatening to spill.

I set it back on the table. It leaves a stale taste in my mouth, but it's calmed my nerves to some extent.

"Teach you how to feel?" I ask slowly. My gaze wonders back to the prince wondering if I heard right.

He does not respond. His eyes remain still in mine.

I press my lips together thinking of a way to respond that would still spare my life. If this is not a bad joke he is certainly mocking me.

Fang don't understand human emotions. They think we overreact often, a testament to his statement before.

And now he was asking a human to teach him how to feel? Or was it a command?

Though the being before me certainly had no emblem of humour I still felt he was pulling my leg.

"A-and how am I going to do that?" I ask my voice in a whisper. My gaze shoots to the ceiling and I take a deep breath my shoulders falling, "How am I supposed to teach a Tribrid how to feel?"

My throat constricts and I open my eyes. I look down at the glass and blink a few more times to get my head straight. I look at him.

"You're speaking of feelings like their something that can be taught and perhaps—perhaps they can..." I trail off, gulping, "but not to you."

My fingers are shaking at my statement. But It is true. I have only spoken the truth.

How am I supposed to teach stone eyes how to echo Sunshine in them?

How am I supposed to teach someone how to feel when he has no semblance of feelings, to begin with?

I am not a witch.

I could not perform magic. For that is what would be required to turn a savage beast into a human.

In fact,  not even magic can live to this task.

It is an impossible feat.

His gaze has not moved from my face. Not once.

My lips remain pursed in a firm line and my fingers fall back to my lap to squeeze my thighs.

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