Chapter 5: Secrets

Ara

“I…” was all she was able to say. Instinctively, she reached for the dagger she had just hidden under her dress. “What are you doing here?” she blurted out.

“ARABELLA! How many times… I’m so sorry, your Grace,” Count Thorn said, looking mad enough to kill Ara and bowing his head towards the assassin.

Your grace?!

“Put that away and kneel to Prince Acheron, you insolent girl,” Count Thorn said, fixing his eyes back on her and barely concealing the rage in his voice.

The command was stronger than her will, and her hand opened, letting the dagger fall onto the ground at the same time her whole body bent down into a kneeling position. Her eyes, however, were locked into the Hova’s eyes, who stared back at her calmly.

“And stop staring,” Count Thorn said.

That made her bring her head down and look at the ground.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company,” Ara said, struggling to talk. Her body tried to resist the collar’s power, no matter how much she mentally told herself to not fight it. It was easier when she prepared for it, but she had barged into the room blindly, not knowing what she’d encounter inside.

The assassin… was Prince Acheron? Second in line to the Empire of Hovania, son of Emperor Darien the II. He couldn’t be. But there was no mistaking the hair, those blue-grey eyes, and pink lips. And a purplish bruise under his eye Ara was pretty sure had been her doing.

Prince Acheron stood and walked up to her. All she could see were his gleaming black boots almost in front of her nose.

“Stand,” he said, but the tug wouldn’t let her. “Thorn…”

“Stand, stupid girl,” Count Thorn said, and her body unwillingly straightened up, and her face met with Prince Acheron’s chest. She couldn’t look him straight in the eyes. Count Thorn had explicitly told her not to stare at him.

“What is your name?” Prince Acheron said with that deep voice of his.

“Ara. Arabella.”

“Why are you carrying a dagger?”

“Your Grace, I assure you, she had no idea you were here. She’s Princess Lila’s friend… or companion, and she fancies carrying that around to protect the princess. As if she were in danger,” Count Thorn said quickly, stepping around his desk. “And I assure you, as you’ve seen, she’s perfectly in control. If you’ll allow me….”

Prince Acheron moved slowly away from Ara when he realized Count Thorn was trying to get in front of Ara. Then Count Thorn stepped up to face her, slapping her cheek with all his strength, almost making her fall sideways. But she didn’t budge.

“Now… stop breathing,” he said slowly, a sadistic grin on his face.

No… It had been ages since he had done this to her. This, forcing her to stick her head into the water and keep it there. So many times, he almost killed her by ordering her to all but do it herself.

She gasped for air as the collar’s power fought her, shutting her airways out. Her chest heaved as she tried to breathe, and she started to lose her footing.

“STOP!” yelled Prince Acheron, grabbing her. “Please, there’s no need. I’m sure she didn’t mean to barge in.”

“You can breathe now,” Count Thorn said, looking surprised at Prince Acheron’s reaction.

The Prince swiftly let go of her and nudged her away as if not wanting to be stained by touching her. She gasped for air, holding on to the wall.

“I just wanted to demonstrate that she’s of no danger to you, or anyone, your grace. You, go stand in the corner and stay quiet,” Count Thorn said, not even looking at Ara as he went back to his place at his desk.

Ara scrambled to get to the place where she had been sent to stand for hours on end so many other times.

Prince Acheron looked at her briefly and went back to the chair he had been sitting on before she arrived.

Yes, it was the same man. Even if her eyes could be playing tricks on her, her nose had never failed her. He smelled like spring, like the sun shining on wet grass. What on earth had he been doing last night, dressed as an assassin? And why had he carried her out when he could have just left her there in the office to be caught by Gallien’s guard?

“Now, where were we, your grace?” Count Thorn said.

“The ball,” Prince Acheron said, sounding completely uninterested.

“Yes, it will start at sunset, and you’re welcome to bring all your soldiers and generals. There’s more than enough Fae to go around.”

“Thank you.”

“May I ask how the ball at Gallien’s estate was last night? I had other matters to attend to, and unfortunately, had to excuse myself.”

“It went well, but I retired early. I was told some of the entertainment came from some of your establishments.”

“Ah, yes! Of course,” Count Thorn said, beaming. “It was a rough night, it seems.” He chuckled, looking at Prince Acheron’s face.

“Oh, this? Well, some of the Fae you have under your wing can be pretty… wild.”

“I hope they were to your satisfaction?”

“Yes, exquisite,” Prince Acheron said, giving Count Thorn a sly smile. “Now, I should get back to my men. I hope it’s alright if we camp on your grounds and I stay there with them. I make it a point to stay close to my men in the days before a battle.”

“Of course, you are free to do as you wish here, your grace. Your guest room is there if you choose to use it. I did, however, want to talk to you about the threat to Shaldania….”

From the corner, Ara could finally take in all of Prince Acheron. He was dressed in black again, but no one would ever think he could be anything but a prince. His military uniform was decorated with dozens of lapels and golden embroidery with the royal emblem.

She started to shiver. The rain had left her cold and damp, and before she could stop herself, she let out a sneeze. She thought she heard a faint laugh coming from the direction of Prince Acheron.

“Get out!” Count Thorn yelled at her. “And close the d*mn door on your way out.”

It took all of her strength not to run out the door. Prince or no, the man in the room had been her opponent, even if a tacit truce had been signed the second she hadn’t given him away to Count Thorn. It would have been futile, anyway. He would have denied it, and Count Thorn would have believed him instead of her.

But still, she wasn’t going to show weakness, even if they’d probably never speak again. Part of her wanted to beg him to give her the map. She was clearly the one with more to lose here.

The other part of her would never do it out of pride.

She slammed the door shut and ran all the way to the secret room, imagining all the ways she’d kill Count Thorn if she ever got the chance.

Prince Acheron

The girl walked out of Count Thorn’s office with a look of panic on her face, but her shoulders squared, which told Acheron she wasn’t entirely submitted to Count Thorn. For some reason, he thought he’d be disappointed if she had cowered out. The scene he had just witnessed was so unlike the girl he had fought last night, that at first, he had trouble believing she was the same person. The wound over her eyebrow said it all, though. And the smell...

Prince Acheron was relieved to see her go. Her smell was making it hard for him to concentrate on Count Thorn. He had to consciously fix his eyes on the old Hova to not turn his head towards where she had been standing in the corner.

At first, his heart had skipped a beat when she walked into the room. He was sure she’d reveal his secret to her master, and he imagined all sorts of ways that could play out. But then she stood there, silently taking in the abuse. And Count Thorn probably didn’t know she had failed to retrieve the map yet. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do to Arabella… Ara, when he found out.

If he had disliked Count Thorn before, he now hated the man. He was exactly the kind of person he was fighting against. For now, though, he’d still have to pretend.

“Shaldania... you were saying?” he said to Count Thorn, who went back to his fake pleasant smile.

“Yes, your grace. You see…”

And as Count Thorn kept speaking, Acheron thought about the taste of the girl’s blood and unconsciously shuddered. He was torn between hoping the girl wouldn’t show up at the ball tonight and desperately needing to have her close again.