The Forgotten Light

44. Darksen

At first, he decided that he wouldn't tell his father about the events of the past night and deal with Arvy and Caster himself. After all, he was their Prince and had as much power over them as the King. As a result, he spent several fruitless hours searching for these two. He looked literally everywhere, both in the castle and in the city, asking others if they had seen them, but no one had either seen or heard of these Invicta.

So he walked now very reluctantly to his father to inform him what had happened. In the late afternoons, Thandor usually sat in his office located in one of the lower towers.

"Darksen." He heard an alluring voice behind him that could only belong to one person.

He stopped, though he would have preferred to run away, and rolled his eyes.

"Just not her," he muttered to himself, but immediately turned around with a forced smile. "Cressida, how are you?"

She closed the door behind her and walked toward him, all beaming, beautiful and voluptuous as always. She was wearing a navy blue gown, her long dark hair was braided into waist-length braids. She stretched out her arms and threw herself around his neck.

"Oh, when I see you, honey, I'm always wonderful," she chirped right into his ear.

He winced vaguely when she touched his back, but was surprised to find that he no longer felt pain.

Cressida stepped back enough to glance at him. "Your brow has healed," she noticed a little surprised. She put her hand to his face, touching the scar above his eye. "Silly boy, you forgot to take the stitches off."

Darksen took a step away from her, trying with all his might not to touch his eyebrow. The wound was still there in the night and his back continued to bleed.

Keiran. He must have healed him then on the beach, and he didn't even notice. He probably owed the cat something more than a bath in his bathtub.

"I have a bit on my mind right now..."

"Of course you do, I'm not surprised," she snapped. "After the show that slave of yours has put on in the arena, I'm sure it all came down on you and you have to clean up now. I heard that you threw her in the dungeon. Very well, that's where she belongs. What I don't understand is why you didn't get rid of her right away. If it were up to me, this half-breed would have been dead long ago. Half Invicta, you don't say! After all, it should not exist at all! Such a disgrace to our blood!" Cressida scoffed.

Darksen looked at her and listened, and slowly realized that this is exactly how he should think about the fair-haired girl. If only Cressida or another Invicta would find out that he had helped her, let her sleep in her own bed, brought his Beast to heal her...

Well, it wasn't the first time he was cudgeling his brains to understand why he wasn't the way a real Invicta should be. Perhaps it's about time to stop wondering about it, and learn to live with it.

"You're kind of... faded. Are you feeling well?"

He caught her hand before she touched his face again. The touch meant nothing to them, even he didn't feel the slightest sensitiveness.

What he had experienced when this half-human girl had grabbed his hand wasn't real. It was all in his head. In terms of touch, he was like any other Invicta - he felt nothing.

He was tired. It was all in his head. Yes, he felt nothing then.

Nothing.

"I have to go. See you, Cressida," he said and left quickly before the girl had time to say anything else.