Blind Beauty

Blind Beauty | 7

Arlette...

He wanted to know who this Arlette was...

"Turn around." He was trying hard to control himself.

She obeyed silently, gently turning around. Her dark cloak looked almost too big on her, but at the same time, it fitted her impeccably.

He didn't know what was happening to him, weird thoughts twirled inside him. Thoughts that had were buried a thousand feet under him, that had never surge into the surface. By now, he would've messed up with this girl's mind, like he always did. Or tell her how she shouldn't be alone in this place, and scare her off. Or call the guardians to take care of her. But he did nothing of that, and the girl didn't contribute. She seemed strong and determined under her hood. By now, he'd concluded, most girls would've faint right in front of him, or scream, or run, but the girl did nothing of that. She was different.

But of course she was, he'd noticed that since he saw her. Her vibe was quite powerful and undeniably noticeable. Not many females were that powerful in the fae lands. Not anymore.

"Take your hood off,"

He sensed her painful shock as she stammered, "Your Highness, I-I-I..."

His patience wore thin.

"Take it off!"

The girl flinched frighteningly, hesitating before completely taking her hood off.

He took a step black, briefly blinking.

He just... stared. That was the only coherent thing he could do.

He just... looked at her beautiful and delicate face, slightly heart-shaped and almost pale. Small steady nose. Crimson red, vivid and heavy waves that went down to her waist as her they started to smoothly come out of her cloak. He let his eyes graze her vibrant, dazzling green orbs that bored into his eyes as if she was almost looking through him. They twinkled, as if they were hiding something only she had the honor of finding, but he figured that she herself couldn't or perhaps wouldn't.

And as she stared right back he could only wonder one thing:

"Why isn't she running or screaming?"

He'd realized he'd said it out loud when he saw the girl's reaction - she seemed anxious.

The more he looked at her, the more her face, and in fact, her whole pose, looked foreign.

"You're not from here."

The girl shook her head softly, her waves brushing either side of her face.

: : : :

He forcibly shook the memory away as he concentrated on what his father was babbling about. It was an endless sermon about how he should choose his future wife. Deeply describing her from head to toe. Personality and characteristics. His father was never like this, he really was going mad about him getting a princess. The Prince's patience was rapidly wearing thin, and as his father noticed that, he instead invited him to eat supper with him, something they didn't do very often.

"You know I only want the best for you," his father remarked as they ate.

The best, such acid words that the only good they did to him was sink in his ominous heart, in the hypocrite way.

"The day is set," said his father, as if expecting an answer from him. But he didn't say anything, he already knew that. His father continued, "This Saturday,"