The Immortal Prince ✔️

18

Word Count: 1951

~Vaela

I lean against the doorway to Hale's office.

"Eyla is asleep." I inform him. Mercifully, it took little coaxing, having wrung all her energy out from the stress. "She will be okay."

Hale sweeps a hand back through his hair, dark waves raining back down over his forehead. He's been in here, simmering in his own anger. I came to terms with what happened to me a long time ago, so seeing Hale experience my death with fresh emotion is confronting.

"And you?" He asks gently.

He speaks to me like he's willing and ready to envelop me in a meaningful embrace if I need it. I'm almost weak enough to consider it.

"I'm numb," I murmur pitifully.

His gaze softens. "Your grief will come."

I practically fall into the room, leaning against the wall. I can't be alone, not yet. My fear is that once the lights darken, and I'm left to my own thoughts, my carefully constructed wall of valour will tumble down.

"I don't want it to," I whisper. Hale exhales, as if he's working through my pain with me.

"Considering what you've been through, I would say you're stronger than you think." He's trying to make me feel better, but there are mere scraps of self confidence remaining inside the most vacant parts of me.

I thought I didn't love Will. His death has hit me hard, and now I'm left reeling.

"Why would someone do that to him?" I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. Flashes of Eyla covered in Will's blood, of what he must have looked like when she found him all flood my mind, making me wince.

It haunts me, knowing exactly what he felt in his last moment. I've experienced it myself.

Death. Murder.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he had enemies. We will figure it out." Hale rests his elbows against the surface of his desk, his surety relieving.

I swallow tightly. "Ah yes. Revenge."

Hale's eyes darken. Revenge for my death has always seemed pointless to me. My past lover killed me, and lived on as a mortal. I knew there was no chance for me to make him pay for what he did, so I moved on.

For Hale, however, he is very capable of inflicting revenge on anyone who has crossed him. Including my murderer.

"Why are you so opposed to me returning the favour to your murderer?" He asks calmly, although I hear the silent rage simmering within his tone.

"It's not how Fate intends for things to be played out," I reply simply.

And I don't want the trauma of that experience coming back if I have to see him again, or even have to utter his name to Hale.

He stands swiftly, his smoothness and grace not altering despite the anger he attempts to manage. "There is no need for you to be so noble."

"And there is no need for you to overreact like this." I'm not upset at him, I'm just struggling to comprehend why he cares so much.

Once over dinner he explained that his emotions often feel as though they are put through a filter, being far less intense and overwhelming then what others experience.

But I'm witnessing how untrue that is with me.

Hale rounds the desk, gloved finger tips sliding over the surface of his polished desk. His gaze pins me, a ferocity to them that has me pressing further into the wall.