The Knight's Eyes

37: THE ALCHEMROOM

He felt dead. He sat propped against the headrest glaring at the covered mirror. All through the night, chills scaled his body keeping him awake. He had tried to exhaust himself by exercising, but nothing seemed to put a shut down to his wandering thoughts.

Galiathan had told him to use his eyes and when he did successfully on his own, he had blinded himself into a surreal dream. But it wasn't a dream. That woman was beautiful, by far more beautiful than Princess Javana. His stomach twisted...that woman was the witch. "Yuk," he said a few times and made a face. Was she wearing a mask of make-up? Impossible, the black veins, the pale skin, and those red flushed eyes looked very real. Plus, why would a woman want to mask herself in such ugliness?

He shivered, disgusted by the butterflies swarming in his belly and the warmth in his heart. He massaged his forehead for the hundredth time, hoping it would clear his mind of her gold eyes. They were unbelievably hypnotic. He growled for the hundredth time and rolled his eyes.

The sun had begun to shine through his curtains, brightening the dark empty room. He wished he were back in his own room in his own bed. He hated staying in this castle. Everyone under this roof was weird. They all did not fit with the horrid stories that were planted in his head since childbirth. Why hadn't any of the other prisoners sense the same thing?

Mirror-sooth was the reason. He wished the giant had trained him before proceeding to his cruel delivery. Be wise, use your eyes, his father would say. He didn't like the sound of that right now. Right now he wanted to burn the image that both haunted him and aroused him. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him or the red dusted showcase had spelled him. Spell, how dare the witch accuse Princess Javana for the showcase. Of all the years knowing that woman, she had never raised a finger in witchcraft.

He scratched his bare chest and moaned. His senses were telling him she was telling the truth. Impossible.

Knock, knock, knock.

Alsin shook his head. "Go away." He was not in the mood to talk to anyone.

The door creaked open and Alsin slammed the back of his head against the headrest. "I said. Go away."

The intruder entered anyways. Alsin tensed up watching the witch casually enter, scorning the room with her eyes. Piles of clothing were scattered across the floor and on the dining chairs, which he had decided to clean later on. Gracefully, with not a care in the world of how inappropriate and rude her entry was, she halted at the covered mirror.

Alsin's mouth watered and his heartbeat skipped as his disobeying eyes trailed down her slim form. Her blackish gold dress, fitted perfectly to expose her hourglass shape. He grabbed the comforter and brought it closer to his chest. Shame, shame, he screamed to his manly instincts.

She cut her gaze at him and he held his breath. He couldn't help himself. He stared directly at her hideous face, yet the image hovering in his vision was a goddess. His eyebrows quivered between angry and dumbfounded. Her demanding presence was unfavorably enticing.

He licked his lips and managed to say, "W-what do you want? I t-told you to stay away from me!"

She stayed silent and studied him. He shifted the comforter in pure awkwardness, "I-I'm a-aware that this is m-my room."

Damn stop stuttering, he shouted to himself.

She approached the side of the bed and he grew hot. The last time he felt this way, he was swapping tongues with Javana in the palace garden. He cringed at his body's reaction to this woman and wanted to kill himself.

"Uh, I know y-you're far from any decent socialism, however I-I know you know this is extremely inappr-,"

She reached for a strand of his hair and he jerked away. He slid from underneath the comforter and jumped to his feet.