Royale (Book #1 Royale Series) {Under Revision}

Chapter 46: Love, Innocence, and Other Myths

Juliana's POV

He took it harder than I did, I realized.

He looked the most solemn I'd ever seen him, standing in the courtyard of the Isolian palace, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette. His hair blew in different directions, courtesy of the winter winds. His beard was growing increasingly thicker and I briefly wondered if he'd ever shave it again. Though I found it to be unspeakably attractive, there was something aggressive, almost dangerous about it, and it awakened something in Aspen that I wasn't particularly fond of. In contrast, his shaven face held something similar to innocence and it allowed me to pretend, if for only a second, that we were still children, playing a game we had no business playing.

I cautiously stepped toward him, but it was no surprise when his eyes flickered to mine, hearing the rustle of my skirts against my skin as the strong winds continued their angry dance.

His eyes held mine in that infuriating way that made it impossible for me to figure out what he was thinking. Then, as if I were nothing more than a stranger passing by, he turned his eyes away from me and started to walk away.

And I was fool enough to think we were past the point of not communicating with each other.

I started to let him walk away, but my feet decided not to allow me to be a coward. I ran to him, simultaneously kicking of my heels while holding up the hem of my skirt.

"Talk to me, Aspen!" I yelled over the roar of the winds and the distance between us.

He wasn't running like I was, but he was tall enough that his determined strides were significantly faster than my desperate sprints.

Eventually, I had to stop running, my burning legs not daring to take another step.

"This doesn't change anything!" I said as I settled into the cold grass.

I didn't expect it to, but this did cause him to halt in his tracks. When he turned back around, even from the distance, his gaze was enough to stop a storm. His eyes were cold and icy, but they held a fire in them that suggested rage, or maybe something worse. He stomped back to me, and on an instinct that I could have cursed in that moment, I hurriedly stood and stepped back.

He paused, his eyes softening at my retreat. And then his face twisted into something resembling pain.

"Doesn't it?" His voice was a gruff whisper. "You're afraid of me."

"No, I-"

"You thought I was going to hurt you." He said with an annoying finality.

I wanted to protest, but for a split second, I was afraid. I did think he might hurt me. Maybe not because he wanted to, but because he was someone else when he was enraged. Someone I didn't recognize. Or worse, someone I did recognize. Someone who was becoming all too familiar to my liking.

I decided not to respond and my eyes flickered to the cigarette in his fingers that he held to his lips. I wrinkled my nose at the smoke he exhaled.

"Please do not tell me that is a habit of yours." I commented.

He threw the cigarette to the ground.

"It isn't. But it used to be. After I stopped doing drugs. But I quickly quit those things, too. But every now and again, particularly when I'm angry, I'll indulge myself."

"Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders and pushed his hair back away from his forehead, but the winds protested and blew it right back in his way.