The Heart of Ice

Chapter 7

Killian

I stare down the long corridor, Davina by my side, specs of blue frost illuminating the darkness. Boreas is quiet, unbelievably quiet, and I begin to feel the unwanted sense of worry course through me. I'm not sure why it means so much to me, but this thing with Lilac, it has to go perfectly. And a quiet mind in my body surely isn't a good thing. I'm so consumed by the feeling of panic that anything other than that is complete agony. Speak, I think. Let me know you're there—I'm not going to let you ruin this for me.

The ice cold voice, one I've grown accustomed to, doesn't say anything. It's probably trying to get me to understand the risks of my actions on my own, for what I'm doing is probably the most selfish thing I've ever done. I know I'm a monster, the villain, the very thing parents tell their children to stay away from. But here I am, leading this girl down the seemingly endless hallway, trying to earn her forgiveness, and maybe make her smile in the process.

Who do I think I am? Certainly not a good person. By now, I'm not even sure I am a person. What kind've human awaits the screams of the people they've killed when they lay their head down to rest? What kind've human constantly feels the blood of their fallen soldiers drip down their arms, to their legs, into the dark hole they crawled out of. Hell. My arms drop and my chest caves in, slamming itself against my rib cage, squeezing my drained heart dry.

"I apologize." I force the words out through gritted teeth, painful skin, a dead soul. Davina doesn't look at me. Her eyes remained fixated on the windows, gazing over the Kingdom. "I know I've been a complete asshole since you arrived—which probably didn't help you at all—but I want to change. Show you I'm not a monster, at least."

Lies, they're human nature, feeding off every happy memory we create, until we're left with nothing but darkness and an empty heart.

"It's okay. I haven't been the peachiest either," she mumbles, barely loud enough for a person to hear it. I watch intently as she picks at the tips of her fingers, drawing tears of blood, worry written all over her face. Something's wrong, very wrong.

"To be fair, I haven't given you much reason to be. Especially after what happened in the garden," I trail off. Davina's troubled expression doesn't break, and I find myself wanting to ask what the matter is. It's not my place though—to know her. It's been made fairly clear to me and I should respect that.

Her breathing grows heavier as her drops of blood find their way to my floor.

Or maybe this is the last thing I need to know about her. My hand finds her shoulder, and I can hear the moment her breath hitches. "I'm sorry. I know it isn't my place, but are you alright? I have to ask."

She doesn't say anything, once again. This time, she just nods. But it was so much like a slight nod that I'm not even sure she did it. Trembling hands, teary eyes, unnatural breathing patterns—she's having the same symptoms I get whenever I hear his voice. But he wouldn't get in her head, would he? I would never let him harm her as he's harmed me. I would destroy that son-of-a-bitch god before I ever let him get to Davina. So, if it isn't that, then what is it?

"You don't seem okay," I note, not taking my eyes off of her. "You know, if something is ever the matter, you can talk to me. I might not be the most helpful, but I want to listen."

How are you going to listen to her without getting to know who she is? What a selfish game I'm playing, a dangerously selfish game.

Davina nods again, calmer this time, as if my words actually meant something to her. "Thank you," is the first thing she says. "I've made a few friends in the castle so far but nothing solid," is the next thing. Her eyes drain of worry, hands untense, and her shoulders straighten. Then, she looks at me, muddy green eyes shining. "Have you made any friends here?" She asks, something like sympathy in her voice.