The Deadly Trials

23.2 | Fairy Light Festivals

"Sorry," I said automatically. As I headed down the stairs, I kept a hand on the banister, pretending, just for a second, that I entered a grand ball.

Once I stood in front of Prince Rune, I peered up at him. The top of my head only came up to his shoulders. Without fear of another trial, I studied him freely.

Sharp cheekbones tried to push through his skin, which was pulled so tight his cheeks had sunk in and his brow-bone protruded. His lips were thin and pale, his eyes dark and intense. Strange jewels, like black diamonds, settled into his skin, traveling from the edge of his left eye to the left corner of his mouth.

He was not what I had envisioned when someone mentioned a prince. He was not dashing or charming or classically attractive.

Yet there was something in those shadow eyes that kept me captivated.

A small smile tugged on my lips. "Someone told me that the royal family used to host balls and pageants once, right? Before the trials became like this."

His eyes focused on the balcony above me. "Yes, they did, long before I was born."

"So you've never been to one?"

He shook his head. "No. But they say the citizens would sing and dance in their finest." The Prince took slow steps about the garden, expression distant as though he had traveled back in time, to the age of galas. "Yllumin grew along the banisters and in the boughs and trunks of the gardens. Creatures danced and talked and drank. It was — simple."

My brows furrowed. "What's yllumin?"

Prince Rune glanced at me from over his shoulder. "A flower. It glows. It's most often used for festivals. Or balls and pageants and galas."

"Wait. You said it grew on the banisters? A flower can grow on — on concrete?"

He nodded once.

"How?"

Now his lips dipped, and an eyebrow quirked. "Biology?"

I laughed, then tugged on a strand of hair. "The way Eternity works baffles me."

The Prince wandered back to my side and a smirk played on his mouth. "Eternity is not governed by Earth's rules, maiden."

As I stared into his eyes, the image of the King shrouded in sadness sprung to my mind. The King had lost his wife, and Prince Rune had lost his mother. Was that the tragedy that had been etched into the dark circles beneath his eyes and into the whorls of his irises?

When I thought of his past, I imagined him alone in the vast, sad castle. And my heart broke.

I had been taken away from my home, but his home had been taken from him.

The least I could do was offer my friendship.

"Your Highness," a servant said, bowing. "Maiden." She bowed to me. "Your Highness, your company is requested."

"Of course." The Prince's mouth was set in a line. "If you'd excuse me." He lowered his head and disappeared into the castle.