“So,” The Prince smiled, again, before turning to his loyal keeper. “Have they heard the good news?”
“I am afraid not to the full extent.” Calimer said apologetically, keeping his gaze slight.
“Oh, well there is your issue. Not that they are unwilling to come but, that they haven’t been fully informed.” The Prince said, and then cleared his throat before continuing. “It is to be a mascaraed ball.”
“Your Grace,” Neoma was the first to speak. Her eyes seemingly questioning what her ears had heard. “I fear it is not a question of celebration that we are concerned about but, the reason as to why a celebration is needed. We have no intention of invoking our ties to your father or the throne but, that we simple wish a normal life for our daughter. A mundane sort of life.”
As if hearing the Prince’s thoughts, Calimer’s eyes darted in his grace’s direction, and he then took a step back. The room falling into a lulled hush shortly after, as if they had all been put on mute. The Prince himself either couldn’t or wouldn’t let himself hear the treason she had said because if he did, than in his father’s eyes the only punishment befitting would be death. No, instead he crossed the room finding a seat in a chair much grander than the one Calimer had used, and yet, even then it seemed too insufficient for someone of his status. He sat in silence, his gaze measuring the two humans before him, and for the slightest instance, he found himself curious about this girl everyone was always going on about. This girl he is destined to marry, and in his judgement he found them lacking. What would his father think of her if he could see the parents now?
Neoma shifted in her stance, and watched the Prince with growing nerves. She knew his blatant disregard to her statement was a bad sign, and even worse. She could feel the impending explosion of Damien, threatening and swearing off things too far beyond his comprehension. In her head, she held the mental image of her rolling her eyes at him –she would definitely have choice words for him later. “Your Grace,” She tried, this time remembering as to whom she was addressing. “All I ask is that my daughter have a shot at a normal life.”
“She is far from normal.” Calimer was quick to state. “She never will be, and to deny his Grace his father’s wishes will only result in tragedy for you, and your family. Would you make an orphan out of your daughter yet?”
“My family will see no tragedy by our decision if I have any say in the matter!” Damien shouted, his hands meticulously curling tighter into fists with each word he uttered.
“Your Grace,” Neoma knelt once more. “I apologize for my husband’s passion. He is just full of love for his family, and the idea of sending her off scares him.”
“Do you understand what has been asked of you, Neoma?” The Prince asked, trying to move on from the fact that a woman had to come to the aide of a man, yet again. His eyes boring into her very mind as if they were searching for the truth himself. Why are human men so weak? Could he not take responsibility and apologize for his own wrong-doings?
Neoma sighed, “Yes, your Grace.” The feeling of sheer defeat written along her face, as she knows they had been naïve to think they could ever free their daughter of this. How can someone escape fate? “We will be there.”
“You are wise as you are correct, Neoma.” Killian exhumed relief, and stood from his chair. His gaze falling to rest on the human man, Damien. “Damien I know this is the last thing you wish for your daughter, and believe me. This isn’t what I had hoped for either. But my father isn’t someone you want to cross. If nothing else, then-”
“She will never be the same after she knows the truth.” The words were a whisper from the man’s lips. Weak, and uneasy as he spoke the inevitable truth. “You will be the death of her, in one way or the other.”
“Better her die in youth, than Marcus and his men overtaking the throne.” Calimer’s words echoed through the room with a hollow but, deafening sound.
“Not if she is who my father believes her to be. In that instance, then she will become immortal like me. Death may not be the only option.”
“Immortality is worse than death. At least in death she will find peace, living she will forever be an instrument in your father’s bag of tricks.”
Neoma gasp in disbelief at what she had heard. Surly the Prince will not be so kind as to overlook that as he has most of this conversation, her apologies can only work for so long. “How dare you speak to the Prince in that manor!” Calimer exclaimed.
“I’m sure he meant that in no form of disrespect, Calimer.” The Prince’s smile waivered, as he moved to close the distance between himself and the male human. And in the blink of an eye, Killian’s hand around Damien’s throat pinned him to a nearby wall, where he hung, feet dangling helplessly.
“Of Course he didn’t.” Neoma said, her words strong, although Killian could feel the ripples in the air as her hand shook in apprehension. “Please, your Grace. We will come, please. Just don’t hurt him.”