Heavens Whisper | K.TH

Her Purpose

WHITE

"This is what happens if you overwhelm your Blessing, demoiselle." V whispers softly when he flips my palm upwards to get a better look. Then I gasp again, and he curses as he drops my hand.

"Sorry. I forgot." His voice is back to stiff, cold nothing as he appears from his room with dark gloves on his hands and a new bitterness in his forest eyes.

I can't even focus with the tears blurring my vision.

Firm hands clothed underneath thick fabric lift me up from the ground, and I shiver relentlessly in his warmth as I press reflexively at the center of my palm.

"Don't touch." He snaps, pulling my hand away as I feel cool covers instead of freezing ground. "It only makes it worse."

"You know about this?" I exclaim, hope showing in my voice. "How do I fix it?"

"You can't." He says, and my heart sinks with disappointment and terror. So this was going to be permanent?

"It'll be gone by tomorrow, I think." Like he hears my thoughts, he mutters under his breath. "This is why you don't heal like you can actually handle the consequences, White. Because you can't."

I shoot a look at his downcast eyes, covered with dark hair that smells faintly of winter.

"Tomorrow?" My mouth drops open, and I kick at the blankets in frustration. "Dammit, then I'm done for."

"Don't curse." He hisses, and I hiss right back.

"You always curse."

"No I don't."

"Yeah, you do."

"Just— be quiet!" He exclaims, giving me an obvious look when pain streaks from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers. My body moves by itself— jumping out of bed and striking a fighting stance.

My cheeks burn red with embarrassment as he watches, a faint amusement in his gaze.

"Shut up." Shoving my hands back down my sides, I mutter accusingly under my breath. "You know I'm going through this for you, right? I healed all your burns and now I have—"

"Learn from this." He turns away, cutting me off. I instinctively roll my eyes at his signature ice voice, zero trace of guilt. "You don't want this to happen again, do you?"

I stare at his back, suddenly feeling a burst of sadness hit me stronger than the pain.

It was just so unfair.

He had to go through this pain constantly, just because someone as sick as the Amber Empress thought he was more beautiful than the others.

If he wasn't so intoxicating in all of his shadows and his sad green eyes, maybe she would let him go.

"Have you ever thought of dressing in anything else but black?" I suddenly blurt out, and he gives me a confused look. When he glances down at his plain white shirt, I laugh until my sides hurt.

"You know what I mean. Like jewels, whatever that fancy stuff."

"Those disgust me." His words are cold as usual, and I nod like I'd already known he was going to say that. But then he turns to me, voice coaxing. "Why do you ask?"

"Because then you wouldn't be so different than the others." I confess, the words pouring out of me at his steady, persuasive gaze. "And maybe she won't call—"

Holy heck.

What's wrong with me?

But when I look up, his face is already twisted with surprise and realization. My heart sinks when his lips part, features frozen with memory.

"She." He suddenly snarls, making a sound deep in his throat. "What do you mean?"

Well, screw it.

I'm dead in every possible way already.

"The Empress." I say bluntly, swallowing as I watch his expression carefully. "I'm sorry for not telling you, but I, uh, kind of saw what was going on."

I want to slap myself.

Who talks like that except for a psychopath?

But to my surprise, he doesn't kick me out of his room like I'd completely expected. But instead, he just silently tugs off the dark gloves and tosses them carelessly onto the table behind his shoulder, and my eyes flicker anxiously.

Wasn't he going to yell at me?

"Stop staring at me." He murmurs under his breath, but I can't help but to stare, more confused than I'd ever been as he runs his fingers through his hair like nothing happened.

Even when he pulls a dark red bandanna free from a drawer next to him and wraps it around his forehead, I can't stop looking.

"If you're not going to listen to me, leave." He says, voice sharper than before. When I finally revert my eyes, I glance up one last time to see the insignia of a black, shattered snowflake engraved into the center of his bandanna.

Now I understand what Mira has been saying— when she said when each of the Blessed carried their insignias on their heads.

And how I didn't have one.

"Where are you going?"

"Order." He says shortly, shooting me a look when my eyes start glowing. "Negotiations."

When my eyes don't stop sparkling, he sighs heavily and adds.

"And a possible assassination."

"I wanna come."

"I've been ordered to take you along as well." He finally says, a bitter wince twisting his features when I squeal in excitement and kick the blankets off. But when I tumble off his bed with another yelp of pain, he glances at my shivering figure.

"But you're not coming."

"Yeah I am." I stress, trying to calm my breathing as I stand up. "I'm definitely going. Besides, this isn't permanent. You said it yourself."

"You're just going to drag me down." He retorts, voice rising. But I can feel the tension on my fingertips— he's going to give in, and I know it. "And you already know."

"I promise I won't."

"You're stubborn as hell." He growls before walking out of the room, his cheeks flushed with annoyance and frustration. "And that's going to be your downfall one day, demoiselle."

I break into a wide smile.

"So I'm going, right? What do I need to bring?"

His lips part a bit in shock as he turns to look at me, before his stunned features twist with hatred.

"Figure that out yourself."

And then he slams the door shut behind him, making me burst out in a series of soft giggles.

I'd never seen him so emotional.

If the purpose of me being alive in this world was just to get V to make a different face than a stone cold, emotionless statue— I'd happily live.