Waiting For Apricity

Chapter 3

Nine lives

He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that rooted me to the spot. His smile was a subtle, tantalising curve, one that hinted at danger and dark amusement. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and smooth, each word laced with a kind of dark poetry. "Ah, the curious human returns," he murmured, as if savouring the words. "You are a mystery, aren't you? A fragile thing, out of place in these woods." There was something almost predatory in his gaze, like a wolf that had just found something worthy of its interest.

A spark of defiance flared within me, fuelled by his arrogance. "But how did you know?" I pressed, the words trembling with both curiosity and challenge. "It's dark, my ears are hidden. For all you know, I could be fae."

A chuckle escaped him, rich and velvety, echoing through the clearing like the soft rumble of distant thunder. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes tracing over me with a languid thoroughness that made my heart quicken. "The night reveals more than you think, love," he replied, his voice wrapping around me like silk. "You carry an innocence—a vulnerability that no fae would dare wear so openly in these woods." He took a slow step closer, his gaze narrowing as if he could see past my skin, past my bones, to the very beat of my heart. "And your heartbeat," he murmured, barely more than a whisper, "it sings a song of wonder, tinged with fear. No creature in this realm could mimic it."

A shiver coursed through me, his words digging deep into places I hadn't known could be touched by another. I felt as though he'd reached inside me, drawn out pieces of me that I'd carefully hidden. I fought the urge to step back, to break away from his gaze, but something in me refused to yield. "And what about you?" I countered, my voice steady even as my pulse hammered. "What brings you out here, lurking in a forest you claim is forbidden?"

His smile deepened, taking on a darker edge, his eyes glinting with an almost dangerous amusement. "Oh, the night is filled with secrets, and some of us are bound to guard them," he replied, each word layered with shadows. "This place... it calls to creatures like me, just as it does to lost souls like you. But be warned, little wanderer—curiosity is a flame, and in Moanae, it tends to burn."

The warning in his voice was as thrilling as it was terrifying, the hint of something untamed pulling me in even as every instinct urged me to flee. Yet, rooted in place, all I could do was watch him, feeling that if I turned away, the mysteries he embodied might slip through my fingers, vanishing like mist beneath the moon.

My gaze drifted down, drawn to the pendant resting against his chest—a glint of metal catching in the moonlight, its shape unmistakable even from a distance. A royal emblem, dark and intricate, its edges sharp like blades. My heart thudded, curiosity boiling over before I could stop myself. "Are you... the dark prince?" I blurted out, each word tasting foreign and unreal. "First in line to the throne of the Eleven Kingdoms?"

A flicker of something sharp passed over his expression—a shadow of irritation, like the first stirrings of a storm cloud across a quiet sky. His mouth curled into a smirk, though his eyes held a glint of impatience. "Yes," he replied, voice clipped yet laced with a biting edge. "And yes, my father is King Amorphous—the same demon who wiped out your entire race." He tilted his head, his smirk widening, each word dripping with a dark, taunting amusement. "Except, it would seem, for you."

The weight of his words crashed into me, a flood of shock and disbelief. My breath stilled, an aching emptiness pressing down as the reality of it settled in. My race—gone, erased by his father's hand, leaving me as nothing more than a remnant, a lingering echo of a forgotten world. A hundred unspoken questions clawed at my throat, but the words tangled, refusing to come out.

He watched me, his expression unreadable, as though savouring my reaction. "What's the matter?" he drawled, voice as smooth and dark as silk. "Did you think yourself alone simply by chance?"

The smugness in his tone jolted me, and an ember of defiance flared in my chest, burning away the first wave of shock. I forced myself to meet his gaze, holding onto the small spark of strength. "So you're proud of what your father did?" I asked, my voice steady despite the tremor threatening to seep through. "Proud that he brought ruin just because he could?"

His eyes narrowed, the silver depths flashing like lightning caught within a storm. For a brief moment, the amusement slipped, and something rawer, colder, lay beneath. But just as quickly, his smirk returned, a mask of arrogance sliding back into place. "Pride is a luxury reserved for simpler creatures," he said, voice softer, yet edged with an almost dangerous calm. "But if you think that survival alone makes you special... that makes you just as naive as the humans who came before you."

My pulse raced, but I couldn't let his words shake me—not here, not now. "Maybe I am naive," I said, my voice quieter yet firm. "But you speak of survival like it's something you know well. Aren't you as much a prisoner of your father's cruelty as I am?"

For a heartbeat, silence filled the clearing, a tension rippling between us like an invisible current. His eyes bored into mine, as if searching for something—some weakness, perhaps, or maybe a truth he had yet to face. His smirk faded, and the hint of a frown traced his lips, as if I'd struck a nerve. He seemed about to speak, but then stopped, his gaze darkening as he closed himself off, a wall of detachment sliding into place.

Panic surged as his words sank in, a tidal wave crashing through me as I truly grasped who stood before me. My pulse thundered, a frantic rhythm against the eerie quiet of the forest. Questions tangled and crowded my mind, desperate to spill out, but before I could even form a single one, he closed the distance between us. He leaned in, his breath a warm whisper against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Curiosity killed the cat, love," he murmured, his tone a soft, dark tease. "Didn't you know?" I could feel his smirk without even seeing it. "And the cat had nine lives. You," he added, his voice dropping lower, "have but one."