Our eyes lock, and in that instant, the world around us fades away. A shiver courses down my spine, electric and foreign. I haven't felt anything like this since... No. I cannot allow myself to think of her.
And yet, as I gaze into her eyes, I feel an inexplicable pull. It's as if some invisible thread has been woven between us, tugging at the very core of my being. I want to look away, to sever this connection before it takes root, but I find myself utterly captivated.
"Your Highness?" her voice wavers slightly, breaking the spell.
I blink, realizing I've been staring far too long. "Yes," I manage, my own voice sounding distant to my ears. "What is it?"
"I... I was just wondering if there was anything else you required." Her words come out in a rush, and I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggles to maintain her composure.
I study her, noting the flush creeping up her neck, the way her fingers tremble ever so slightly as she clasps her hands before her. She's affected by this too, whatever this inexplicable connection might be.
"No," I say at last, my tone deliberately cold. "That will be all for now."
As she turns to leave, I find myself fighting the urge to call her back. What is this madness that has overtaken me? I am Prince Gideon of Aspen, bound by a dark pact, my soul forfeit. I have no right to feel... anything.
And yet, as the door closes behind her, I am left with an emptiness that echoes through the shadows of my heart.
I catch myself taking a step forward, drawn by an invisible thread. My feet move of their own accord, each step measured and deliberate, as if I'm approaching a wild creature that might bolt at any sudden movement.
"Wait," I hear myself say, my voice low and rough. There's a darkness in my tone that I can't quite control, a hint of the shadows that cling to my very being.
She turns, her eyes wide. I can see the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat, betraying her outward calm. She meets my gaze, and I'm struck anew by the vulnerability there, mixed with a curiosity that should be snuffed out for her own safety.
"Your Highness?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I struggle to find words, my usual eloquence deserting me. What am I doing? What can I possibly say to this girl who stirs something within me that I thought long dead?
"Tell me," I begin, surprised by the softness in my own voice, "have we met before?"
It's a foolish question. I know we haven't. And yet, there's something achingly familiar about her, like a half-remembered dream.
She shakes her head, a strand of hair falling loose from her cap. "No, Your Highness. I don't believe we have."
I nod, more to myself than to her. Of course not. And yet, I can't shake this feeling, this pull towards her. It's dangerous. I am dangerous.
"You should go," I say abruptly, turning away. "Forget this... forget me."
But even as I speak the words, I know it's already too late for both of us.
I turn back to her, my resolve crumbling like the ruins of my former self. Her presence pulls at something within me, a thread of humanity I thought long severed.
"Stay," I whisper, the word hanging in the air between us. "Be my personal attendant."
A flicker of... something... passed across her face. Hope? Fear? I can't be certain.
"Your Highness, I..." she begins, her voice barely audible.
I cut her off, unable to bear the thought of her refusal. "It's not a request. It's an order."
The harshness of my tone surprises even me. I've grown unaccustomed to caring what others think or feel. But with her, it's different. Dangerous.
She swallows hard, her gaze never leaving mine. "I... I accept, Your Highness," she whispers.
Relief floods through me, though I'm careful not to let it show. Instead, I nod curtly, already regretting my impulsive decision. What am I doing, bringing her closer to the darkness that consumes me?
But as I look at her, I see a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes, mixed with something else. Relief? Has she found an ally in me, this broken, damned prince?
The thought is as terrifying as it is exhilarating.
I turn away, unable to bear the weight of her gaze any longer. My eyes sweep the shadowy corridor, searching for unseen threats. The castle walls seem to close in, whispering of dangers lurking in every corner."Come," I murmur, my voice low and rough. "We must move."
As we traverse the winding passages, I feel her presence behind me like a flame at my back. My senses, honed by years of paranoia, are hyper-aware of her every breath, every hesitant step.
We round a corner, and I instinctively push her behind me, shielding her with my body. The gesture surprises me as much as it does her. When did I become so... protective?
"My lord," she whispers, her breath warm against my neck. "Why are you doing this?"
I turn to face her, my eyes searching hers in the dim light. "Because," I say, the words escaping before I can stop them, "in this world of darkness and treachery, you are the only light I've seen in years."
I lead her to the end of the corridor, where a heavy oak door looms before us. With a wave of my hand, the locks disengage, responding to the dark magic that courses through my veins. The door swings open silently, revealing my private sanctuary."Enter," I command, my voice barely above a whisper.
She steps inside, her breath catching audibly. I watch her reaction closely, curious to see how she'll respond to this glimpse into my inner world.
The room is bathed in the flickering light of a dozen black candles, casting long shadows across the stone walls. My gaze follows hers as she takes in the tapestries that adorn every surface – scenes of battles I've fought, loves I've lost, all woven in muted shades of crimson and midnight blue.
"These..." she murmurs, reaching out to touch one of the tapestries. "They tell your story, don't they?"
I move closer, my presence looming behind her. "They tell of pain," I reply, my voice low and haunted. "Of betrayal. Of a man who dared to challenge death itself."
She turns to face me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. "And did you succeed?" she asks, her voice barely audible.
A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Success? No. I gained only damnation."
I watch as she absorbs this, her gaze darting between me and the tapestries. The air grows thick with unspoken questions, with the weight of my past and the uncertain future that stretches before us.
I turn away, my eyes drawn to the darkest corner of the room where a portrait hangs, shrouded in shadow. My beloved wife's face, forever frozen in time, gazes back at me with eyes that once held such warmth."I lost her," I murmur, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. "And in my grief, I made a bargain with the devil himself."
Her soft gasp echoes in the chamber. I feel her presence behind me, a flicker of warmth in this cold void I've created.
"What happened?" she whispers, her voice laced with a compassion I scarcely deserve.
I close my eyes, memories flooding back. "I journeyed to the underworld, determined to reclaim her soul. But I was deceived. The devil revealed that God had already taken her, leaving me with nothing but darkness and a cursed power."
My fists clench at my sides, the familiar surge of anger and despair threatening to overwhelm me. But her gentle touch on my arm anchors me to the present.
"You loved her deeply," she says, her words not a question but a statement of understanding.
I turn to face her, struck by the depth of empathy in her eyes. "I did. And that love became my undoing."