By the time that Shia had finished her bath and walked back into the bedroom in a fresh set of warm and clean clothes, his majesty – Langrion – had already been sound asleep at his side of the mattress.
This made Shia heave a sigh of relief. Although the prince already mentioned that he did not mean to use the words ‘sleeping together’ in a shameless manner, it might all be empty words as far as Shia was concerned. On top of him being a prince and probably getting all that he had ever desired in the world, Shia must admit that his face and his body are quite tempting to look at. Therefore, it won’t be surprising if he had always his way around several women at this age already. Who knows, right? Royalty or not - holding a man’s hand in the night might lead to one thing or another if Shia isn’t cautious enough. With this thought in mind, Shia placed her prized dagger underneath her pillow where she could easily reach for it and forced herself to get some sleep.
Shia’s heart beat went wild when she saw the blonde and gruff-looking head of the Imperial Guards emerge from the bushes opposite of where she stood. He then charged straight to Marmie. Shia was feeling quite stunned herself, but her quick instincts kicked in. She did not think twice as she hurled herself in front of the girl who was too wracked in fright to avoid the knight’s apparent attack. “No!” Shia screamed on top of her lungs. She tried to pull out her dagger from inside her boots, but it was not there! Shia bitterly remembered that she had left her precious dagger safely underneath her pillow inside his majesty’s tent. She had no choice but to come forward from the bushes unarmed. Praying hard that the sword of the blasted knight would miraculously miss her somehow, she tried to shove the girl’s body away from the attack. The knight, Lord Bragford Fincher, saw her come in haste between him and the servant girl. Their eyes met instantly, and sh
Langrion looked back at the silver streaks of hair that framed the face of the wide-eyed girl, Shia, who was crying her eyes out in front of her with such compassionate eyes. She had asked him a series of questions that pried at his own morality, making him feel how useless he had been as a prince and as a cursed one all these years... Honestly, he didn’t know which ones of her words had pierced his heart most painfully – the fact that she thinks that he likes or even enjoys deciding on the fates of people or the fact that she thinks he is her family’s cold-blooded murderer. Either way, her words had positively stung his spirits so badly that he did not know how to respond to her. He had quite definitely run out of words. The girl, however, was unfazed as she continued to press on.“Aren’t cursed ones people too?...” she said. Perhaps these ones were the hardest words to swallow in Langrion’s opinion. Utterly speechless, Langrion started to hold he
Shia returned to the tent where he found the prince still calmly sitting down on the small table with his food still untouched. It looked as if he was waiting for her to come back, which she did sooner than anyone would have expected. Shia eyed the back of the prince’s dark hair suspiciously. It did not look like he was even a bit alarmed about the news that Marmie turned up dead just a few hours after the ruckus at the kitchen and before she was to be taken to the Capitol. Shia slowly sat down and joined him on the breakfast table with her brown eyes intently fixed on his majesty’s face. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I saw?” she inquired. “I have no need for that. They will soon make a report of what happened,” he said rather coldly. Shia felt a little confused as to how the prince could easily go from being sensitive and delicate to being stiffly cold, heartless, and unfazed in a heartbeat. She tried to look at him straight in his rig
Concealed behind a thick collection of leaves and bushes, Shia stealthily and silently awaited as Lady Khailis set up the materials she needed to build Marmie’s supposed funeral pyre. She had been sitting in hiding for at least half an hour now. The new encampment was a hundred miles away, but thankfully, the overgrowth of trees along the way had helped Shia get to her destination faster. The hanging bridge that the trees had made for her combined with her fast feet helped her to get back to the old camp in just a matter of minutes. Earlier on, Shia had seen Lady Khailis put on the wood and the fuel and proceeded to light up the funeral altar. However, just as Shia had suspected, no physical body was ever placed in its core. Only the woods crackled softly as the bonfire continued to blaze. Shia spotted a thick blanket rolled up on one side where Lady Khailis kept her horse and some of her other belongings. She would only need to get a little bit closer to
Shia felt speechless. ‘It’s him!’ she thought excitedly. As far as Shia could remember, he – this tall, red-headed, muscular man – was the actual stuff that made up her father’s stories and legends! All of her father’s tales were just about how good and great this commander was and how he had rescued him and formed a friendship with him when he was just a small lad in Tightwater. Now, Shia cannot believe that she is face to face with the great commander of the Red-Headed Knuckles himself. Shia could not stop grinning from ear to ear from her excitement. The great commander took Shia’s right hand and acted as if he was about to give it a kiss. Before this could be done, however, Shia felt an arm come around her back while another hand snatched her hand from the commander’s grip almost immediately. “She is not the one I told you about, Sir Rus. She is my wife,” the prince exclaimed in an icy, formal tone. Almost simultaneously, Shia an
Shia stared in horror as the dark, inked figure of a bird – a heron, perhaps – became more and more pronounced at the left side of his highness’ bare chest. She would have remained in trance if she did not realize that Prince Langrion’s left eye has started glowing fiercely in time with the appearance of the marking in his body. “Cover your eyes!” she began to frantically shout at Lady Khailis, and the girl heeded her instruction immediately. Shia began removing his majesty’s mask, and saw that the menacing red glow was starting to become fiercer and fiercer despite the physical contact she had with the prince. It has also started affecting his majesty’s other eye, making him look more like a monster instead of a person. Shia’s heart beat began to escalate even further. ‘What the hell is happening?!’ she asked herself. The figure on his chest started to turn blood-red as well. Without a thought, Shia began weaving a dome of vine to separate his majest
“You do realize that you two sounded like old couples when you argue, right? You remind me of my own mother and father back home,” Lady Khailis fancifully mentioned afterwards when the heat of their disagreement about the Mark of the Beast and the prince’s future have already dissipated. By then, his majesty had recovered enough of his strength, and they were now able to continue their journey back to the camp. The two of them sat a top of the horse with Shia in front and his majesty controlling the reigns. “The Mark of the Beast, I have seen it in Soccora,” Shia began to say after a while. She looked up and met his majesty’s remorseful stare. “If the story I had just heard was true, then you must have been under the Devil’s control three months ago when my parents and siblings died. That must be why you cannot remember any of it...” “I-I’m sorry...” he began to say. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. It was not you who killed them. It was the Devil who
The soft, wavy flow of her silvery white hair, the way she smiled, and the way that the woman starred back from the portrait looked exactly like Shia. The only difference was that she had a pair of hazel-colored eyes while Shia’s were of a darker brown hue. “It’s so scary! I cannot tell the two of you apart!” Khailis exclaimed while flipping her gaze from Shia and back to the woman in the portrait. “I didn’t realize it back then, but I think this was the reason why you looked so familiar to me when I first saw you in the woods,” the prince whispered to her. “Who is she?” Shia inquired, gasping at the apparition she was seeing. “She,” a voice from behind them spoke, “is the lady of this house – Duchess Tristal Mariana Andry.” The three of them were met by a tall woman in her early forties with silvery hair that was tied neatly in a bun. Her eyes looked kind, and they started shedding tears as she came closer towards them. “By the gods o