17. Till death do us part

Song: Indila- Dernière danse

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God created our father Adam. He then created Lilith, the first wife, and Lucifer was in love with her.

When God destroyed Lilith, he created Eve. Who was in the exact likeness of Lilith. Lucifer was enraged.

In the scriptures, they say she ate fruit given to her by the devil. A kind gesture by the messenger. They do not say she fell for his deceit.

From this deceit, two children were born. Abel, son of Adam.

And Cain. Son of Lucifer.

~ Diary of Prince Silo, Royal Ezrain Library of Valoria

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Amelia, who is currently in very deep trouble

"How the hell do you know?" My heart thundered in my chest as I inched away from him. My hand skimmed my thigh, where I had made sure to hide a dagger. Just in case.

The moonlight danced in his hair. His violet eyes gleaming despite facing away from the only source of light in the room. He smirked at me, amused by the fear coiling in my stomach. He knew. I'd managed to hide it from everyone at court and yet he'd seen right through me. How?

What had I done wrong? How'd he see right through me? {1}

***All Aresian and Borelian nobility are descended from the line of Aierell, one of the seven holy lines. Blessed by the diety themself. Whoever marries into the line, be it peasant or foreign noble is blessed with a gift. Some are gifted with lightning speed, some can walk on water or breath in water.

But the most powerful are always the royal family. With gifts of foreseeing the future and controlling the earth itself.

In this society, a child with no gifts is seen as a weakness. A waste. Most children like this are hidden from society and even buried alive.

To be human. A weakness. A pity.

Such a pity.***

My eyes widen as it hits me. "Did that devil tell you?" I sneer.

"Satan?" He asks, throwing my dagger up into the air and watching it spin in the air. The metal catches the moonlight like a mirror and reflects it to the city below. As it returns to his hand he replies."No. I figured it out myself."

I open my mouth to say something when I finally realize that.

He.

Has.

My.

Dagger.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, princess." His voice purrs in my ear as he hovers the dagger over my head, just slightly above my grasp.

Realizing I was being made a laughingstock by him - even if it were just the two of us in this room - I stopped.

He laughed at me. Cruel amusement glittering in his eyes.

I growled. The fear in my heart was replaced with simmering rage. "Bastard."

He laughs harder. "No, you." The vase misses his head by a thumbs length before flying off the open balcony.

He throws my knife at my head. I clap my hands together and catch it mere inches away.

Screaming, I hurl myself at him tipping over a table in the process.

We claw at each other. He shoves my knife away from me and reaches for it. I bite his wrist, drawing blood. He unleashes a scream that I hastily clamp out by punching him.

"You will not-" I gasp "- mention this. To anyone."

"You bit me!!" I laugh at his accusation.

"Baby, you should see me in bed, "I bend down so that our lips are almost touching. Hearing his breath hitch only makes me want to laugh harder. "I'll destroy you. So easily," I whisper making a point to stroke a blond strand of hair back. I grin at how pathetic he looks. So vulnerable.

Pathetic. Like all men.

"Are you going to stab me then?" He taunted me, though any I see the fear hidden deep in his eyes. His wrists were restrained on his chest by my hand. Though I was inclined to let them go so he could punch me. It was only fair that we both end up bruised in this fight.

I grinned as I sat on top of him, my legs spread seductively over his waist. I watched as his chest rose and he squirmed under me. I stroked his jaw, delicately. Like a lover her other half, my thumb rested on his bottom lip. "You poor thing," I murmured as I stabbed him.

He gasped in agony and his back arched as I pressed my dagger deeper and twisted. The surprise in his eyes was Biting my lip, I watched him fight back a scream.

"You poor. Poor thing." I wonder if I should twist harder. Mmm. No. I don't want him dead.

Yet.

I pull the dagger out and lick the blood off. My gaze roves over his hard body contemplating where to stab next. He was losing blood surprisingly fast. A pool of blood had already formed around us. Spreading to the balcony doorway and soaking my white dress. His lips had turned as dark as his eyes and he was sweating profusely. I hypothesized that he'd faint in two minutes.

A pity. I'd wanted to watch him wreath a bit more.

I snorted. The audacity of him really. To think he could actually best me. In my own home!

"Who's the slave now, boy?" I rubbed the rest of his blood on his white shirt. His body sagged as he finally left the conscious world.

Thank God. I removed myself from him and scrutinized him for a bit. His skin was pale and damp from the bleeding and his lashes fluttered as he dragged a raspy breath. A drop of sweat lingered on his neck. I wondered if I had the right to touch him after what I just did.

I sighed. Well, I had to touch him anyways now.

I heaved a breath from my chest as light sprawled from the darkest corners of the room and gathered in my hands. Two sparkling gray orbs sit in my palms. It's a strange mystery - light - it is the reason we see. If one were to ask someone what light was, they'd most likely answer with something along the lines of 'white'.

Yet light looked nothing like white, no it was the darkest of gray, close to black in the dim moonlight. Little cords of light connected the globes to the moonlight marble floors. The same cords connected to every part of the room; every shadow every niche.

Slowly, I pressed the orbs into his limp form. His eyes shot open and he gasped a breath, his feet dangling over the floor.

My fingers bleed and my body ached with fatigue as the remainder of the orbs dissipate back into the cords and retreat into the shadows of the room.

Bed. I need bed. I tell myself as I rise and step to leave. I have no reason to stay. Soon, he'll wake up. Soon he'll want vengeance. I don't care.

I stopped caring about my enemies, eons ago.

I grab my pillow and leave. His body, still laying on the floor and blood staining my pillow.

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