It was the first thing he saw when his eyes opened for the first time. The glistening, golden glow shining in his eyes ... how he should die for it.
He was brought up by it, lived by it, swore by it.
It was the first thing she learned about when s...
When Lauren finally sighed in release, lying down beside the prince, he felt all his senses come back together. She complained about the roughness of the grass on her bare skin, rambling on as she caught her breath.
Tobias stared up at the night sky. The prickly grass around him was nothing compared to what he felt within. Nothing mattered any longer. His hands stretched and caressed the grass, closing his eyes at the memory of Beatrice sitting in the rougher, dryer grass when they had visited her village. She sat there and did not complain once, so why should he have something to complain about?
He tilted his head to the woman beside him, blinking away the tears that blurred his vision. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the long day, or his mind slowly slipping further into despair, but Tobias found himself staring at Beatrice laying beside him.
Beatrice slowly turned her head to him and smiled. He felt her hand wrap around his, causing him to gasp softly. She giggled at his reaction, inching forward to him until their faces were inches apart.
He reached out with his free hand and cupped the side of her face, basking in her imaginary presence. He smiled and lifted her chin toward him softly to enjoy her appearance. She smiled and closed her eyes, drifting to sleep in his arms.
"I love you," He told her as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He lifted her face higher by her chin and leaned in, brushing their lips against each other. "I love you," he whispered before pressing his mouth to hers.
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Marcus sat in the chair in front of the cell, staring at the sleeping prisoner.
Once again, he had retreated four stories below the castle to think. Something about watching the helpless woman locked up in a cell by his doing offered him the serenity to think over things.
True to the myth, Beatrice opened her eyes at the feeling of being looked at. She made no sudden movements, blinking to recognize the King sitting in front of her cell, staring at her once more. She inhaled deeply, signaling she was awake.
Marcus stood and approached the bars.
"Stop being a coward and kill me already," she told him, refusing to sit up.
He shook his head, wrapping his hand around the cold metal. "It seems you are the coward here, Miss Prior."
He pushed open the cell doors and walked through, reaching for the dagger on his waist. He slowly pulled it out and watched disappointedly at the lack of fear on her face. He flicked the dagger toward her, letting the sharp tip glide against her jaw.
"You were right," he said slowly, crouching to her level, his dagger still on her. "I have already taken everything from you. What more could I offer?"
She stared at him.
"Perhaps keeping you here while Tobias lives his life above you is the final thing I could offer you," he taunted. "The dreadful fate you will carry out within this cell, knowing Tobias is starting a family with another woman."
Beatrice would have told him she did not believe a word he said, but something inside her did. Marcus, amused he had finally broken through to her fears, stood. He reached into his pocket and straightened out a folded paper, handing it to her.
Her breath hitched as she read over the words. A guest list, most likely to her funeral service. Certainly, since her family's names were written on there. Her eyes read over each name and paused at one, fear sinking in.
Princess Lauren.
She glanced up at the King, who grinned down at her.
"I will be sure to send you a photograph of their wedding day," he told her, turning away to leave.
A tear slipped past Beatrice's eyes and onto the paper. Could he have truly invited her? To my own funeral? Is he this desperate to move on from our relationship?
Marcus looked over his shoulder, satisfied she was crying. He covered himself in his cloak and journeyed up the stairs, leaving his prisoner alone once more.
Beatrice closed her eyes and bent over. She could not help her tears, clutching the guest list in her hand.
I should have never accepted that job as a servant.
I should have never fallen in love with a Prince.
The soldier should have shot me while Christina and I were at the bottom of the stairs.
The glass should have cut me and allowed me to bleed to death during the first attack.
Evelyn should have stabbed me when she was under the simulation.
