HBHM (hiatus)

six

picture: cooljmc900

shout-out: Whatsabookworm

| obliged

The next morning, the prince leaned against the wooden bed frame, eyes scanning around but not really seeing anything. All he saw and thought about was that maiden, Evarose. So young―almost as old as he was―yet so hardened, guarded.

And those eyes . . .

He wasn’t supposed to see them, he guessed, from the furtive way she stood beside him and the hood over her head. But when he’d caught her wrist the night before, when he asked her to sit, her eyes flared like purple flames with gentle tints of blue and black. He’d never seen eyes that color.

It disappeared as quickly as it came, but it had been enough.

Rays of sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows and stretched across the floor in glorious colors. It was deathly silent―not the usual sweet chirps of birds or servants bustling about―but it was serene, calming. Everything his home wasn’t.

But Casimir was restless, so he got off the bed and left the room. Finding the sitting room from last night was easy; now the matter was finding the kitchen, as compelled by his grumbling stomach.

At the other end of the hall, almost hidden from first glances, Casimir spotted a door, slightly ajar. Slashed on the wood were dark streaks, standing out from the rest, and before he could stop himself, he found himself walking towards it. He snuck a peek inside the bedroom.

Crimson red painted the walls, giving it a deep and antique feel. A large four-poster bed was across the room, sheets and pillows the color of cream and cerise, soft satin and fine silk. A diaphanous curtain hung from the solid pillars at each end of the bed, set afloat by the breeze blowing in through an open window.

The bed was messily undone, but it was empty. Was this Evarose’s room?

Casimir shook his head and went back to the hallway. He shouldn’t be rudely eyeing someone else’s quarters without permission; he was raised better than that. So he focused all his attention on his search for the kitchen.

He found it―well, eventually―and entered, spotting a black stallion in the middle. The back door, leading outside, was open and he walked over to close it. Then Casimir picked up an apple and offered it to Silver. “Did you have a good sleep, boy?”

Silver sank its massive teeth into the juicy fruit, messily chewing it. Casimir took that as a yes.

Suddenly there was a sound of metal hitting the floor. It startled the horse, and it neighed loudly and backed away. Casimir quickly patted Silver’s forehead, calming it down. “Shh,” he hushed, his eyes on a metal knife lying dangerouslyon the floor.

When he knelt down to pick it up, something dashed by his head, a swift, gray shadow. Alarmed, Casimir looked up, slowly rising to his feet, searching for the unwanted intruder. There was a pause, a sickening silence, until Silver screamed.

Casimir had no time to react when he heard feet scurrying across the floor. He could only stare in shock when a female wolf leaped onto the table, looking deadly: glowing yellow eyes, sharp claws raised and poised for attack, ready to pounce. It growled low, sending chills up Casimir’s spine.

This was not the same wolf from before. This one was viciously aggressive. A true beast.

Abruptly it leaped off the table, claws aimed at his flesh.