A large figure stepped from the shadows and into the dappled light—dagger in hand. Adalia’s body warmed at the sight of the prince. Relieved it wasn’t the king, Adalia watched as he studied the woods, looking for what she could only presume was her. His tousled brown hair fell across his forehead, and Adalia’s fingers itched to touch it.
She noticed markings on his skin, but his face wasn’t darkened by the shadows . . . It was bruised.
A jagged cut adorned his lip and the black circles beneath his eyes told her that he’d been hit more than once.
Had they punished him for letting her go?
The thought tugged at her and, feeling bold, she moved from her hiding place and stepped before him.
“Hello Prince,” Adalia crooned, trying to project confidence while her stomach fluttered.
The prince’s eyes widened, then travelled the length of her body. “Was your time here not torturous enough that you came back for more?” he asked dryly.
“I only willingly stepped into Oscuro this time because I heard your song. What are you doing so close to the Veil?”
“What does it matter to you what I am doing here? I’m still in my territory . . . I can’t say the same to you. You shouldn’t be here.” The prince sheathed his dagger and took a step towards Adalia.
He wore a black shirt tucked into his pants, and the first three buttons revealed the black tattoos mixed with what looked like purple and red bruises on his chest. Adalia pulled her focus from his upper body and met his gaze.
“Have you been sent here by your father, or mother for that matter, to send Thorns across the Veil into The Grey?” she asked as she placed her hands on her hips.
The prince chuckled and leant against the rough bark of a tree. “I never do my father’s dirty work. He has minions for that. Besides . . . I don’t have a mother.”
Adalia took a few steps towards him. The woman with the green eyes must not have been queen then. “So tell me, why are you here? You’re too close to the Veil for my liking.”
“I don’t care what you do or don’t like, little dove. I don’t answer to you . . . or to anyone, for that matter.” The prince arched his brow, his black feathered wings brushing across the forest floor each time he moved.
“Well, if you won’t tell me what you’re doing here, answer me this.” Adalia folded her arms across her chest. “Why did you let me go? And how did you get these bruises? Were you in a fight?”
The prince’s ice-blue eyes bore into hers as she waited for his reply. “That’s three questions.”
“Do you think you can handle three?” Adalia said in a too sweet tone.
“I can try,” the prince answered with a small grin. “The answer to your first question. I was bored. The second, that’s what happens when you get hit and thirdly . . . I’d hardly call it a fight.”
“You werebored?” Adalia’s brow pinched. “So out of nowhere, because you had nothing better to do, you let me go? What happened to freedom for a kiss?”
“Why do you care? You got your freedom back . . . and your clothing, I see. Although I did like seeing you in barely anything.” The prince smirked as his gaze dropped from her face to her lips.
Heat rose in Adalia’s cheeks. “You’re a beast.”
He chuckled out loud. “Yes . . . and this beast is tired of this conversation. Why don’t you go back to your insignificant life and we can pretend none of this ever happened?”
“I will go, but if I catch you sneaking through the Veil, I will not hesitate to attack,” Adalia said, squaring her shoulders.
“Fine by me.” The prince smirked.
“Goodbye, beast,” Adalia threw at him as she turned to leave.
“I have a name, you know . . .” he called after her.
Adalia turned to face the prince again. “You don’t like beast?”
The prince pushed off the tree and sauntered towards her. She tried to stop her body from behaving the way it was, but her pulse quickened, and her heart beat hard against her chest. By the time he stopped, she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and Adalia swallowed the fear that somehow made its way into her mouth, her eyes travelling over the details of his face.
A chiselled jawline and high cheekbones bore the gentle weight of day old scruff and Adalia fought the urge to delicately drag her fingers over it. Her eyes flicked to his lips and for a second she imagined what they would be like to touch with her own.
Was he too close, invading her personal space, or was he not close enough, leaving an unspoken longing? These thoughts left Adalia caught in indecision; to walk away and never look back, or to move towards him and hope she didn’t die.
