Yasmin started at him in disbelief as he struggled to mend the words than had slipped his mouth. She did not believe his denials in the least, but could not help but to feel sorry for him. Had she had the chance, perhaps she would have tried to deny her own emotions, yet it had been far too sudden and obvious to hide it behind a poor excuse.
“No need to lie anymore,” she murmured softly, but did not urge him to say the truth. She had heard what she had wanted to hear. Alyssa had been right, and she had been blind and deaf to it all for too long. Yasmin pursed her lips as he deemed her merely confused, yet the spark poking her to dig deeper into his wounds had died out. Both fatigue and weakness had washed over her, enough to render her almost lifeless before the Prince, drained of all will to fight him.
Her blue eyes darkened as she furrowed her brows at him. “If it comes to life,” she corrected, although the shadow of doubt within her did not make it sound as believable as she would have wanted it to. “I know it’s hard not to think about it,” she said, slowly nearing him to reclaim her seat on the edge of the bed facing the window. “Be it the Gods’ warning or a stupid dream, we are only human, aren’t we? Ever paranoid. Ever fearing our deaths like our lives ever meant anything.” They did not, not in the bigger picture. Chaos came and went, and its mark faded more with each generation.
Ehren had not forgotten King Evander’s death, but as soon as they saw a new head beneath a Crown, forgetting might come more easily.
A bitter smile curled at the corner of her lips. “No, not a prisoner,” she sighed. “A measure of safety. I have the power over you now,” and many might come to believe the pretty whore that got to sleep with the future King of Ehren. She had no intention to speak, but the faint thought of having the upper hand did give her a sense of victory. She had not needed a vision to make his true nature surface.
They could only wait until the ceremony to find out; wait for the night to eat away at them as she wondered if her visions had been real, and he puzzled over the day of his betrayal. He would count guards to keep him safe as he strode through the crowd with an empty smile on his lips and a theatrical confidence etched on his face, but the inside of him would be ever rotting with dread and perturbation.
“Steel will not protect you,” she murmured, her blue eyes going to find him again. “It will be by the hand of one who cannot be touched by blades.” That, she was certain of, for she had seen him take the crown upon his head and bleed by the doing of the very hands that had placed it. Or, perhaps she was the one not reading into it well, and for that, she decided to shut her lips and no longer kindle his worries, lest he tried to make her do everything all over again.
“A pity, isn’t it? Truth.” She wished she could go back to the silence and solitude she had so much enjoyed while waiting for her royal client. “Had it not been for it, you would have enjoyed your last night as a Prince as any should... There would not have been pain. No wonder, just joy, and the wine would not have turned sour on your tongue.” There was nothing he could do then, but think and count the ways he could be betrayed on his day of glory.
With a quiet creak, Yasmin lifted herself from the bed and slowly started pacing towards the door again. “I will see myself gone if so you wish.” At least he could have that night to himself, “Unless you wanted to make the best out of it.” A bitter joke, but better than leaving resentment in the air. She had not forgiven him, and she knew that he had not forgiven her, but the least she could do was try to understand what it was like to think that her own life was worth praying for.
“No need to lie anymore,” she murmured softly, but did not urge him to say the truth. She had heard what she had wanted to hear. Alyssa had been right, and she had been blind and deaf to it all for too long. Yasmin pursed her lips as he deemed her merely confused, yet the spark poking her to dig deeper into his wounds had died out. Both fatigue and weakness had washed over her, enough to render her almost lifeless before the Prince, drained of all will to fight him.
Her blue eyes darkened as she furrowed her brows at him. “If it comes to life,” she corrected, although the shadow of doubt within her did not make it sound as believable as she would have wanted it to. “I know it’s hard not to think about it,” she said, slowly nearing him to reclaim her seat on the edge of the bed facing the window. “Be it the Gods’ warning or a stupid dream, we are only human, aren’t we? Ever paranoid. Ever fearing our deaths like our lives ever meant anything.” They did not, not in the bigger picture. Chaos came and went, and its mark faded more with each generation.
Ehren had not forgotten King Evander’s death, but as soon as they saw a new head beneath a Crown, forgetting might come more easily.
A bitter smile curled at the corner of her lips. “No, not a prisoner,” she sighed. “A measure of safety. I have the power over you now,” and many might come to believe the pretty whore that got to sleep with the future King of Ehren. She had no intention to speak, but the faint thought of having the upper hand did give her a sense of victory. She had not needed a vision to make his true nature surface.
They could only wait until the ceremony to find out; wait for the night to eat away at them as she wondered if her visions had been real, and he puzzled over the day of his betrayal. He would count guards to keep him safe as he strode through the crowd with an empty smile on his lips and a theatrical confidence etched on his face, but the inside of him would be ever rotting with dread and perturbation.
“Steel will not protect you,” she murmured, her blue eyes going to find him again. “It will be by the hand of one who cannot be touched by blades.” That, she was certain of, for she had seen him take the crown upon his head and bleed by the doing of the very hands that had placed it. Or, perhaps she was the one not reading into it well, and for that, she decided to shut her lips and no longer kindle his worries, lest he tried to make her do everything all over again.
“A pity, isn’t it? Truth.” She wished she could go back to the silence and solitude she had so much enjoyed while waiting for her royal client. “Had it not been for it, you would have enjoyed your last night as a Prince as any should... There would not have been pain. No wonder, just joy, and the wine would not have turned sour on your tongue.” There was nothing he could do then, but think and count the ways he could be betrayed on his day of glory.
With a quiet creak, Yasmin lifted herself from the bed and slowly started pacing towards the door again. “I will see myself gone if so you wish.” At least he could have that night to himself, “Unless you wanted to make the best out of it.” A bitter joke, but better than leaving resentment in the air. She had not forgiven him, and she knew that he had not forgiven her, but the least she could do was try to understand what it was like to think that her own life was worth praying for.
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