Madeline did not have to turn to know whose voice it belonged to, it was none other than the king.
She would have asked how she had just stumbled upon him, but she took that back after seeing which corridor she was in: the dimly lit corridor that led to where his room was.
Madeline took slow steps around until she was face to face with the king. He stood there, devilishly handsome, like a person who didn't belong to this world.
His head was tilted to one side, his eyes narrowed at her, as if watching her every step like a predator at night.
He leaned against his door as he spoke again, "Do you not think you are beautiful?" He raised a brow, waiting for an answer.
Madeline's heart skipped a beat. For someone this handsome to call her beautiful was enough to make her heart skip. Would her heart ever stop skipping in one night? Who were all these people to make her feel this way?
"Madeline," the king jolted her. "My king," she bowed her head, biting her lip.
Why was it always not right with him? How could she be losing it, feeling scared whenever she was near him? What was he really?
"Raise your head up; you do not have to fear me," she heard a slight irritation in his voice.
Madeline raised her head up immediately. She would not, in any slightest way, anger the king. He was yet to buy from her.
"Look at me," he instructed, his voice commanding enough for anyone to obey his instruction.
Madeline looked at him, his dark eyes sharp as they stared at her. The coldness was still there, but there seemed to be something else. She just couldn't explain it; it was like there was someone behind that coldness. 'Will a monster send a lady a dress and carriage?' came her father's words. She wanted to believe it; believe that there could be something good inside of him. However, she feared him, feared his cold demeanor, and felt maybe all of this was for show.
He started walking closer to her; his steps alone caused her to stagger back and clutch her chest. 'No, Madeline, you must not fear him; he is just a human being.'
But despite this thought coming into her head, she still felt the fast beating of her heart and the urge to flee from this intimidating presence. Although she was still rooted on her feet as he walked towards her.
Draven halted in front of her just before he reached her, enough to feel her breath. Her presence was making him burst into flames, making him lost for words, but here he was, not fearing how all of this was making him feel.
"Do you fear me?" he tilted his head, a frown creased his face. "But why?" he asked.
He shouldn't be surprised that she feared him, for he was the one who had kept this coldness on the outside so no one would be allowed inside. But the thought of her fearing him boiled him. She was dangerous, and he should avoid her, even though he needed something from her; he should still avoid her.
"I... I do not fear you, my king," she bit her lip, trying so hard to look away from him, but then his voice kept nagging at her ears, 'look at me.' She gulped hard when he leaned his head forward. Dear lord, it had been incredibly unbearable being near him at the ball, dancing with him, being held by him, and here he was again, stealing her breath when she was trying so hard to breathe properly.
"Then why do you look like you have seen a ghost?" he raised a brow at her.
'Ghost?' How could he compare himself to a ghost? He was more than a ghost, probably the devil himself. Madeline was not the type of lady who would let a man carry her when she was in danger. She was used to doing everything herself, so the thought of him comparing himself to a ghost, something she wasn't scared of, was laughable.
"I fear no ghost," those words slipped out, seeming to spill from her thoughts. She clasped her mouth after the words. 'Gracious Lord, can she be allowed to slap herself and let the ground bury her? This was the king, and one does not talk to the king like a commoner.'
"Oh, fierce, aren't you?" The king chuckled, then leaned back and sighed. "You should not be scared; for a blacksmith, I thought you were quite brave."
Madeline's eyes shot out, his words sinking into her veins. For once, she thought about what those words meant. Indeed, she should not be scared; there was nothing to be scared of. She had encountered drunks, thieves, psychos, and the likes of Philemon, yet she was scared of this man. It didn't feel right, and now that she thought of it, it didn't feel like her.