Chapter 10

"I am nobody!" Isolde sobbed, she didn't know what she was saying at this point she knew she was only blurting out words, "I am a woman that comes from the southern villages...I have nothing!" Isolde's heart pounds in her chest as she stares up at the prince, her vision blurred by tears. She can barely believe the words that have just spilled from her lips, confessing her own insignificance and desperation. The weight of the prince's gaze feels like a physical force pressing down upon her, suffocating and all-consuming.

"You are nobody," the prince repeats, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. His eyes narrow, studying her intently. "Nobody, you say. Yet here you stand, a mere village mage, who has somehow stumbled upon my most private moments. It seems to me that you may be more than what you claim, Isolde."

His fingers brush her chin, tilting it up to force her to meet his piercing gaze.

"I've known countless women, both noble and common. Your... vulnerability, it's intoxicating." Isolde shudders beneath his touch, her body betraying her fear. His words drip with a dangerous intimacy, and her mind races as she tries to think of a way to escape this precarious situation.

"I-I don't understand what you mean, m-my lord," she stammers, her words shaky and soft. The prince chuckles darkly, his hand trailing from her chin to her cheek in a mock caress. "Oh, you understand perfectly well." He moves closer, his lips nearly touching hers.

"You've piqued my interest, little mage. And when I'm interested in something, I don't let it go easily." His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken threat and promise. Isolde's breath catches in her throat, her body trembling under his intense scrutiny.

The prince's fingers brush against her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath his touch. "Now, tell me again." The prince's fingers trail along Isolde's neck, his touch feather-light and yet searingly intimate. She shudders beneath him, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The prince's eyes bore into hers, dark and fathomless.

"Tell me again," he repeats, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Tell me you're nobody. Convince me." Isolde's eyes shot up at the prince, shock spilling from her lips her fear was quickly replaced by anger, "Release me." Isolde's words came out as a hiss, her eyes flashing with a newfound defiance.

She jerked her chin away from the prince's touch, her body tensing as she stared up at him with a mix of fear and outrage. The prince's brows arched in surprise, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Release you?" he echoed, his voice dripping with mocking disbelief, "Yes, I can't do this anymore...." She sighed, her face staring at her feet, "My grandmother said I was special, but she was wrong." She cried, "I-I clearly am a fool, I don't know the politics of court, I don't understand anything! I just know magic! I-I just expel me, I promise you I won't dare breathe a word of this to anyone, I will leave to assure you that."

The prince sighed, "Enough, I believe you." The prince's grip on Isolde loosens, and he steps back, his eyes still fixed on her. "You are right about one thing, Isolde. You don't understand the politics of court, and that is a dangerous thing. But perhaps..." He pauses, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Perhaps that is why you're so... intriguing. You see things with fresh eyes, untainted by the machinations of the court."

Isolde, trembling yet defiant, holds her ground against the prince's piercing gaze. Her heart hammers in her chest, each beat echoing the fear and outrage that courses through her veins. The air between them is thick with tension, the weight of the prince's words hanging heavy like a shroud. The prince's expression softens slightly, a hint of curiosity replacing the cold cruelty that had once dominated his features.

"Forgive me, I was rough with you....Although I don't agree with you going as you please, I-" he paused. Feeling regret instantly as he looked at the woman before him, she looked as if she would fall apart at any moment, "Shit." he sighed crouching down, his hands rubbing his face.

"I didn't mean to frighten you so. I am sorry, truly." He stands up, his hand outstretched towards her.

"Please, Isolde, take my hand. Let me make this right." Isolde stared at the prince's outstretched hand, her emotions a turbulent storm within her. Her fingers trembled as she slowly lifted them, hovering just above his palm. Isolde hesitates, her gaze flickering from the prince's outstretched hand to his face. The apology seems genuine, but the lingering fear makes it difficult for her to trust his words.

She takes a shuddering breath, trying to steady her nerves. "I...I don't know if I can, my lord," she says softly, her voice trembling. "What you said...the way you threatened me...it was terrifying." The prince sighed, "Come, follow me."

"I won't take you by force," he assures her, his voice gentle yet firm. "But I insist. I want to show you something." He turns and begins to walk down the hallway, expecting her to follow. Isolde takes a moment to compose herself, her heart still racing from the confrontation. She takes a deep breath, her fingers clenching the fabric of her dress as she follows the prince.

As they walk, Isolde finds herself lost in thought, the prince's sudden change in demeanor confuses her, and she struggles to reconcile the cruel, threatening man with the one who now guides her through the castle corridors with gentleness. She glances at him from the corner of her eye, noting the regal set of his shoulders and the determined stride of his steps. There is an undeniable power emanating from him, even in this seemingly peaceful moment. She noted his disheveled looks, and she blushes fiercely, the alcohol in her system has ruined her night, she would be mindful of it, if she manages to survive the night.

As they walk, the silence between them stretches like a taut rope, the tension barely contained. The candlelight flickers, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls, and the distant sound of a harp echoes through the halls, a haunting melody that seems to echo Isolde's turbulent thoughts. The prince leads her down a winding staircase, the air growing colder and damper with each step.

As they reach the bottom of the stairs, the prince pushes open a heavy wooden door, revealing a dimly lit chamber. "This is my study; have a seat I'll call for some tea"

"That won't be necessary " Isolde replied pressing her arms firmly against her body, she already felt so uncomfortable around him the last thing she wanted was to prolong her stay. 

"I insist, you need it for your nerves, it will calm them." Isolde nods there was no point in being stubborn, she takes a seat at the chair in front of the large desk. She watches as the prince accepts the tea from the staff, his movements precise and practiced. He hands her a delicate porcelain cup, the steam curling invitingly upwards. Isolde takes it with shaking hands, cradling it close to her chest as if it were a lifeline.

The prince settles into the chair behind the desk, his eyes never leaving Isolde's face. The prince takes a sip of his own tea, his gaze still fixed intently on Isolde. "I must apologize for my behavior earlier," he says, his voice low and sincere. "I allowed my temper to get the better of me, and I frightened you unnecessarily. That was not my intention."

He sets his cup down, leaning forward slightly. "I hope you can forgive me. I assure you, I am not usually so..." Isolde takes a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the delicate porcelain cup. She stares down at the swirling steam, trying to gather her thoughts. The prince's apology hangs in the air, a fragile truce in the wake of their heated confrontation. She can feel his gaze upon her, heavy and intense, as he waits for her response.

"I...I appreciate your apology, my lord," she says softly, her voice still trembling slightly. Isolde raises her head, her green eyes meeting the prince's with a complex look. Her fingers, still wrapped tightly around the tea cup, have left small crescent marks on the delicate porcelain. She draws a breath, steadying herself as she continues.

"But I'm... I'm still shaken by what happened. I don't understand what I did to deserve such a... such a violent reaction from you." The prince leaned back, "It's not you, it's me truly, my position requires me to be on guard at all times. In the last month, I've experienced two assignation attempts on not just my life but the Royal Majesty's lives."

Isolde's eyes widen, her heart pounding at the revelation, the prince's words paint a grim picture of the dangers that lurk within the castle walls. She sets her teacup down with a trembling hand, the porcelain clinking softly against the saucer. "My lord, I had no idea..." she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "I would never dream of harming you or the royal family. Surely you must know that."

The prince's lips curl into a faint, enigmatic smile, his eyes never leaving Isolde's face. "I do know that now, Isolde. Your... reaction was quite convincing." He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "But you see, in my position, one cannot afford to take chances. Even the most innocent-seeming actions can have dire consequences." Isolde nods, her mind racing as she tries to process this new information. Isolde takes a shuddering breath, her eyes never leaving the prince's face.

"I understand, my lord," she says softly, her voice trembling only slightly. "I...I had no idea about the threats against your life. It explains your...reaction earlier."

"Though earlier I must admit, having my intimate moments being so exposed was new to me."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been doing that in open." Isolde's hand flies to her mouth, as she realizes the implications of her words.

The prince's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a look of amusement crossing his features before he bursts out in laughter, "Goodness, perhaps you are right." Isolde's eyes widen as the prince laughs, a blush creeping up her neck at her boldness. She bites her lip, suddenly feeling very small and out of place in the grand study. The prince's laughter fades, and he leans back in his chair, studying her with a newfound interest.

"You are quite right," he says, his voice low and smooth. "Perhaps I was being rather... careless." Isolde nods, her blush deepening as she realizes the prince is still looking at her intently.

She fidgets with the hem of her dress, her fingers tracing the intricate embroidery. The prince's eyes follow her movements, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I don't think many would say that to my face but, I suppose I deserve that." he says, his words slow and measured. "Your... honesty is refreshing."

Isolde raises her head, meeting the prince's gaze. Her heart skips a beat as she realizes the intensity of his scrutiny. She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can speak, a sharp knock at the door interrupts the moment. The prince's eyes narrow, and he calls for the person to enter. The door swings open, and a tall, elegant woman with blonde hair enters. She pauses upon seeing Isolde, her face betraying surprise. Rose.

Rose's surprise turns to a sharp, cold edge as she fully takes in the scene. Isolde shrinks back, her earlier discomfort with Rose coming back full force. The prince's eyes dart between the two women, clearly noting the tense atmosphere. He stands, placing his hands on the desk, his posture projecting authority. "Lady Rose," he says, his voice carrying both courtesy and a slight edge. "I didn't expect you to seek me out."

Rose inclines her head, her posture stiff and her face set in a mask. "My lord," she says, her words as sweet as honey yet carrying an underlying current of steel. "I... I was merely concerned for you. You left so suddenly after our conversation."

Her gaze flickers to Isolde, then back to the prince. "I wasn't aware you were... entertaining." Isolde, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, shifts in her seat staring at her cup she wouldn't dare look up.

The prince's eyes narrow slightly, his posture remaining firm. "Lady Rose," he says, his words measured and controlled, "I assure you, I am quite capable of handling my own affairs." Rose's smile doesn't reach her eyes as she nods, her attention fixed on Isolde. "Of course, my lord. I meant no disrespect." She pauses, then adds, "I trust you'll keep me informed of any... developments."

"Indeed, Lady Rose," the prince replies, his tone suggesting that the conversation is at an end. He turns to Isolde, his expression softening as he addresses her. "I apologize for the interruption. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I must attend to Lady Rose's concerns."

 Isolde nods, her heart pounding as she watches the prince and Rose leave the room. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. The tension between Rose and the prince was palpable, and Isolde couldn't help but feel that her presence had somehow exacerbated the situation. She glances around the study, her eyes lingering on the books lining the shelves and the ornate tapestries adorning the walls. She rubbed her weary eyes, exhaustion creeping up on her she was sure to have horrid rumors spread about her tomorrow. She relayed the events in her mind still unable to process the fact this was happening to her. . She rubs her temples, feeling a headache coming on from the stress and the lingering effects of the wine.

The prince returns to the study, his face unreadable. He closes the door behind him, then turns to face Isolde. "I'm sorry once again," he says, his words measured. "Lady Rose can be... overzealous in her concern for me." Isolde nods, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric of her dress.

The prince moves to stand beside her, his presence filling the space around her. "Perhaps it's best you retire." The prince's words are laced with a gentle quality, but Isolde detects a note of dismissal beneath them.

She stands, smoothing out her dress as she does so. "Of course, my lord. I... I appreciate your hospitality." The prince nods, his eyes never leaving her face. "I will have a guard escort you to your chambers." He moves to the door, opening it and gesturing for her to proceed. She stands up quickly heading to the door, "Before you go, you must know you wont face any consequences but, I hope I am right in trusting you."

Isolde pauses at the threshold, her heart pounding as she turns back to face the prince. His words linger in the air, heavy with both warning and trust. She meets his gaze, her green eyes revealing a complex mix of gratitude and trepidation. "My lord," she says, her words steady despite the turmoil within her, "you can trust me. I would never betray that trust." As the words leave Isolde's mouth, she realizes their weight, the implications hanging in the charged atmosphere between her and the prince.

She can feel the heat of his gaze, the intensity of his presence, as if he's searching for any hint of deception in her declaration. For a long moment, neither of them moves, the silence stretching taut like a drawn bowstring. Then, with a barely perceptible nod, the prince breaks the tension.

"Very well."

"I pray the next time we meet, it's in better circumstances, good night." Isolde nods, her heart still racing from the intensity of the encounter. She curtseys to the prince one last time, then turns and walks out into the dimly lit corridor, where a silent guard awaits.

As they walk back towards her chambers, Isolde's mind whirls with the events of the evening, from the festival to the garden, the prince's anger and his subsequent apology. She shudders, still feeling the cold of the night air on her skin. As she reaches her chambers, she can't help but wonder what the future holds for her at the Elynorian court, now that she's caught the eye of both the prince and his betrothed, she didn't dare think of the other mysterious woman, if she was smart, she was shove the memory deep inside her and never think of it again.

Isolde slips into her room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She leans against it, her thoughts consumed by the day's events. She quickly dresses into her nightgown and prays for sleep, yet she didn't get any that night.