The child looked at the king with fear in her eyes.

“What is your name, girl?” the tall man sneered, resting a hand on the arm of his throne, woven with shimmering jewels. A single blood-red ruby was embedded in the back of his seat right above his head, and it stared back at the child as she knelt before it, her head bowed.

Her shoulders trembled as she replied, “I have no name, Majesty.”

The king was silent for a long moment, his black eyes watching the little girl and the tears that streaked down her cheeks. He drummed his fingers on the head of his sceptre, a lion’s head mid-roar carved from gold, the thick ring on his thumb catching what light there was in the dim throne room. His lips curved upwards in a viscous smile.

“Then I shall give you a name,” he said, his voice reverberating around the room and all the way to the child’s bones. 

“Yes, Majesty.” Another tear slipped down the girl’s face.

“You will look at me when you speak,” the king demanded, raising then slamming his sceptre back down onto the floor of the dais with a deafening thud.

The child flinched, but she obeyed, lifting her gaze to the man sitting before her. The crown atop his head glimmered wickedly, warning her to flee. The circle of candles surrounding her gave her enough light to see the king’s expression–dark and unforgiving. His face was tan and chiselled and held a beauty that one could only envy, framed by tendrils of white-blonde hair that reached to just below his chin. He was young for a ruler, but the cruelty in his glare in which he beheld her matched that of a king who had ruled for an age and had seen nothing but death.

“Much better.” He smiled again, but it was not kind. “Step into the light, my child.”

She was about to get up onto her feet, a little confused, before she realised he had not been speaking to her. From the depths of the shadows that shielded the dais where the throne was erected, a young boy no more than three years older than her stepped out from the darkness, dressed finely in a tunic and trousers of black. Gold embroidery in the pattern of dragons was stitched along the collar, hiding the thin chain which he wore around his neck.

He did not look like his father.

Where the king’s features were sharp and angled, the child’s were soft and kissed by youth. Eyes which one would think should be black were rather a striking shade of icy blue that cut into her so deep she felt her heart freeze. His hair was the only thing that distinguished him as the prince; a blonde so pale that it almost looked silver, cropped to just above his ears. He was not smiling.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“This is Prince Kalvian, the heir to this throne,” the king said smoothly, gesturing at his own seat. “You are to memorise every inch of his face, every tremor of his voice and remember every thought he ever speaks, yes?.”

The girl nodded once. More tears threatened to spill.

“It is easy to make enemies once you have obtained power all others want to take from you. Not even your own home is safe.” The king crossed one leg over the other casually, sounding as if he were bored. “You will be my son’s protector now and forever, and his life is yours to guard with your own. Each day you breathe is a day he will, too, do you understand, girl?”

A lump grew in her throat, and the pulsing in her eardrums grew louder. Her hands shook.

“I said, do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Majesty,” she responded, her voice reaching barely above a whisper.

“Say it,” the king commanded.

The girl’s eyes widened as she looked back and forth between king and prince, prince and king. “I…”

“Tell him what you are.”

Her eyes met the prince’s, and she fought the bile that rose up into her mouth. “I am your protector, now and forever. Your life is to guard with my own, and each day I breathe is a day you will, too.”

The prince did not react. His face was a mask of pure boredom.

“And what will you do when he dies like all mortal men do?” the king asked, leaning forwards, his lips curling into a snarl that sent shivers down her spine.

“Then I will die with him,” she said, clenching her fists so hard her knuckles turned a ghastly shade of white.

The king’s laugh was humourless. “Clever girl.”

Before she could say anything else, the prince inched forwards and entered her circle of light, one hand outstretched so that she could see the ring on his finger, identical to his father’s. She took it without hesitation, feeling the smoothness of the palm of his hand.

“Swear it.” Those were the only two words the prince said to her as she raised her chin to look at him. His voice was soft, but his expression was ice.

The girl pressed her lips to the cool surface of the ring, right in the centre of the large red stone which represented his bloodline.

“Now and forever, I swear it.”

He stood over her like the sun over the earth and she watched as he drew her in as she had done to him: the scar that marred the flesh of her right cheek and the stain of tears that left a white trail down her face. His fingers found her chin and tipped her head upwards in one small movement, the pad of his thumb stroking her jaw where the last tear had left its mark.

“You will not cry,” he murmured to her. The candle flames flickered around them.

A fire ignited in her chest.

“I will not cry.”