Chapter 13 - library

The days that followed were a dance of stolen glances and fleeting touches. Each morning, as I helped Prince Gideon don his regal attire, our eyes would meet in the mirror. His gaze, usually so cold, now held a flicker of something I dared not name.

"Your cravat, Your Grace," I murmured, reaching around him. My fingers brushed his neck, and I felt him stiffen. Was it revulsion or... something else?

"Seraphena," he said, his voice low and rough. "You've been... attentive."

I swallowed hard. "It is my duty, Your Grace."

He turned, suddenly close. Too close. I could see the flecks of silver in his blue eyes, the way they darkened as he looked at me. "Is it only duty?"

My heart thundered in my chest.

"I... I don't understand, Your Grace."His hand moved, almost touching my cheek before dropping away. "No," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I suppose you wouldn't."

That evening, as I was arranging flowers in the great hall, his voice startled me. "Walk with me."

I nearly dropped the vase. "Your Grace?"

"In the gardens," he clarified, his tone brooking no argument. "Now."

As we strolled through the moonlit paths, I sensed a change in him. His shoulders seemed less rigid, his stride less purposeful.

"Do you believe in redemption"

he asked suddenly.

I hesitated, weighing my words carefully. "I... I'd like to, Your Grace."

He stopped, turning to face me. In the silvery light, his face looked almost vulnerable. "Even for one who has made a deal with the devil?"

My breath caught. Was this a confession? A test? "Perhaps," I whispered, "especially for them."

His hand reached out, fingers grazing my cheek. This time, he didn't pull away. "You're a fool," he murmured, but there was no cruelty in his words. Only a deep, aching sadness that made my heart twist.

As we stood there, bathed in moonlight and unspoken truths, I realized with a start that I was falling for the very darkness I should fear.

I leaned against a small alcove in the palace wall, our eyes still fixed on each other. Hearing a scraping of stone behind me as my shoulder seemed to push a section of carving back. "what was that" i whispered.

The scent of ancient leather and parchment enveloped me as I pushed open the hidden door, my heart racing with excitement. "Your Grace," I called softly, my voice echoing in the cavernous space. "You must see this."

Prince Gideon appeared in the doorway, his imposing figure silhouetted against the flickering candlelight. "What have you found?".

I gestured to the towering shelves, filled with tomes both familiar and strange. "A library, hidden away. Can you imagine the knowledge contained here?"

His eyes, usually so cold, sparked with interest. "Show me."

I pulled a heavy volume from a nearby shelf, its pages crackling as I opened it. "Look, it speaks of ancient magics, of deals made in shadow."

Gideon's hand brushed mine as he took the book, sending a shiver down my spine. "You understand these texts?"

"Some," I admitted. "My father taught me to read the old languages." i flicker of memory danced through her mind. She remembered her father.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Then perhaps you can teach me."

Hours slipped by as we pored over the texts, our heads bent close together. I felt the wall between us crumbling, brick by brick, with each shared discovery.

As the candles burned low, Gideon closed the book we'd been studying. "Seraphena," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I have something for you."

From within his cloak, he produced a small, velvet box. My breath caught as he opened it, revealing a delicate silver necklace adorned with a single, dark gem.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, my fingers hovering over the pendant.

"It was my mother's," he said, his eyes never leaving my face. "I thought... perhaps you might wear it."

As he fastened the clasp around my neck, his fingers lingering on my skin, I wondered if this gift was more than just a token of affection. Was it a chain, binding me to him? Or perhaps, a key to unlock the darkness that imprisoned his heart?

-------------------

The clang of steel against steel echoed through the courtyard as I approached. Gideon stood shirtless, his skin glistening with sweat, locked in fierce combat with his training partner. I watched, mesmerized, as he moved with deadly grace, his muscles rippling beneath his skin.

A sudden cry of pain shattered my reverie. Gideon's opponent had landed a blow, opening a gash across his chest. Blood trickled down his torso, a stark crimson against his pale skin.

"My Prince," I called, rushing forward with bandages and salve. "Let me tend to your wound."

Gideon dismissed his sparring partner with a curt nod, his eyes never leaving mine as I approached. "Seraphena," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Always so... attentive."

My hands trembled as I began cleaning the wound, acutely aware of his proximity. The scent of him—sweat, leather, and something darker—overwhelmed my senses.

"Does it pain you greatly?" I asked, desperate to break the tension.

"Pain is an old friend," he replied, his tone bitter. "We've long been acquainted."

I dared to meet his gaze, finding his eyes had darkened to near-black. 

As I stepped back, Gideon caught my wrist, his grip firm but not unkind.

I shook my head, daring to place my free hand over his. "Good men don't always make the right choices, and bad men aren't beyond redemption. Your past doesn't define you, Gideon."

"Then help me understand," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper.

Gideon's jaw clenched, his internal struggle evident. After what felt like an eternity, he released my wrist and turned away. I feared I had pushed too far, that he would retreat behind his walls once more. But then he extended his hand to me, his expression unreadable.

"Come," he said simply.

Heart pounding, I placed my hand in his. He led me from the room, our footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. We descended a grand staircase, and I realized with a start where we were headed.

The ballroom doors loomed before us, ornate and imposing. Gideon pushed them open, revealing a cavernous space bathed in moonlight. Dust motes danced in the silver beams, giving the room an otherworldly quality.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, my voice sounding small in the vast chamber.

Gideon turned to face me, his eyes glinting in the darkness. "You wished to understand. Words often fail me, but perhaps..." He pulled me close, one hand settling on my waist. "Perhaps this will suffice."

Without warning, he began to move, guiding me in a slow, haunting waltz. There was no music save for the whisper of our feet across the floor and the thundering of my own heart. Yet we danced as if possessed, our bodies finding a perfect harmony born of longing and unspoken truths.