Chapter 10

Everyone lowered their gazes to a slight bow at the sight of the prince. Their silence reverberated in the pub, and bartenders froze, placing their shakers on the counter. The prince scanned the room, his electrifying eyes –– sunken and somber –– pierced through the crowd in a magnetic-field-like current. They watched as he walked towards the bar, seemingly sobered up when they would mumble, “My sincere sympathies, Your Majesty,” as he strode past them. He would acknowledge their support with a nod, and his sullen demeanor filled the room with a sense of heaviness. His dark coat that hung low on his knees fluttered at his movement, and his raven hair flowed like water in the air.

Seeing him under the warm light of the pub contrasted with the version of him I saw last night. That menacing gaze –– dark and angry –– was replaced by an almost apparent grief that he tried to hide through composure. And I hadn’t realized how intimidatingly tall he was when he towered over most of the townspeople inside the pub. 

As he sat on one of the empty leather stools, a bartender lifted a cocktail glass and shouted, “Long live the king!” 

And everyone declared in unison. “Long live the king!”

But the prince didn’t budge or wave his hand in appreciation. He just stared distantly at his clasped hands, his fingers tracing circles on the blue gem attached to his ring. He was announced as the heir, but a coronation still needed to be held. A pub surely wasn’t an ideal place to celebrate a successor, and he looked more irritated than proud.

The prince gestured at one of the pub’s workers and whispered to him. Then the worker raised a hand, motioning everyone out the door. So I turned to Therese.

“We should go,” I muttered.

“Wait.” She was looking to my side with squinted eyes. She hovered a hand on my shoulder as a light orb came into view. “Azen’s firefly,” she pointed out, and it flew in front of our faces to catch our attention.

I tried to shoo it away, but Therese snatched my wrist.

“I think that’s the firefly I saw at the ball,” I said.

The pub had grown emptier as each one of them was ushered outside. So I stood from the stool, and Therese did the same.

“That’s not about the dead werewolves now, is it?” She referred to the firefly, teasingly nudging me with her elbow as we made our way to exit the pub.

Then that heaviness in my chest appeared again. I shushed Therese to lower her voice before saying, “I thought we shouldn’t be talking about this in public? What if he hears you?”

Before we could make a step outside, a domineering voice resounded in the room.

“You.” Therese and I halted, slowly turning our backs to see the prince eyeing me from the bar. I swallowed as sweat formed in my palms. “Stay.”

Therese and I exchanged glances, and she slightly shook her head in confusion.

“I’m sorry, but––“ Therese was cut off when the prince talked over her.

“The one with the pale hair,” he described, referring to me.

I took a few steps forward, my knees wobbling as I moved closer.

“Your Majesty…” I said, and by the time I turned around to look at Therese, she was already being ushered out by one of the workers. 

The firefly flew right in front of my face again, and this time, it landed on the prince’s shoulder.

“Sit.” He patted the empty stool beside him and turned on his back as the bartender poured into his glass. “Keep me company,” he commanded, his tone laced with indifference.

I reluctantly complied and sat on the stool. The workers in the pub had disappeared to their faculty, leaving only the bartender tending the counter as the prince stuck his finger for another drink.

Looking at him closely without all the blood on his face from last night, he appeared more mesmerizing. It wasn’t because of his distinct features but the weight of his presence when he walked into a room. No wonder they called him the melancholic prince. He had that certain aura in him I couldn’t put my finger on.

I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he drank the Bourbon in his glass.

“Your majesty, I apologize for last night.” I tried to be polite, but I could almost hear the thudding in my chest. 

He put the glass down and sighed. When he turned his face towards me, I caught my breath. The last time I’d seen that face, it was a different person. But he still displayed the same brooding expression.

“I should have killed you,” he said, words digging deep into my head as I recalled his claws, his grip, his anger from last night. They were etched in my brain like those nightmares I would always have. “But I did not.”

“Why? I––I didn’t do anything,” I replied and almost stammered.

He stared deep into my eyes, and I almost drowned in them. Those eyes reminded me of that dream where I was plunged into a lake –– the stillness of it as it swallowed me.

“Should you be fearful of me now?” he asked, sliding a glass of cocktail to me.

“I am scared of you.” Then his jaw clenched at my response. “I meant, Your Majesty.”

“No need to address me with such formality. I give you permission to call me by my first name.”

“It’s not proper.” I looked around the pub. “What is a prince like you doing in a place like this in the first place?”

“The fireflies led me here,” he replied, his tone softened, “after my mother passed away in her sleep.”

“My condolences,” I muttered and lowered my gaze. “That must be really hard.”

“I’m used to death. I’ve held death in my own hands. You saw it with your own eyes.” He sounded numb, as if grief was the most familiar feeling to him. “Though I couldn’t know why you’d found me in the forest. The palace was big enough for you to roam around.”

Then he tucked his hand inside his coat, pulled out a small carton, and pinched the cigar between his lips.

“I’m not quite sure.” I was reminded of the voices, the tugging in my chest… the firefly.

“Then I would assume someone sent you, didn’t they?” He let out a scoff and lit the cigar with a matchstick.

“No.”

“Should you give me the names of the werewolves that sent you the orders, I will let you come out of this pub alive.” He blew a cloud of smoke in the air and flicked his thumb on the cigar, ash sprinkling the ashtray. The stench had my lungs coughing from the inside.

I swallowed. “No one sent me. It’s a coincidence. I just followed the voice and the firefly.”

He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and then discarded the cigar. “It wasn’t a coincidence now, is it? Fireflies often appear as Mother Selene’s guidance to fate.”

“I just moved here in Azen, I don’t know about the fireflies and fate. My friend, Therese, told me something about them, but I’m oblivious.”

“You do seem rather stupid than oblivious.”

My mouth almost gaped at his comment. I couldn’t retort, too afraid to say the wrong thing that might lead me to lie next to the werewolves he killed.

“Cut me some slack; I’m adjusting,” I mumbled, but he overheard what I said when he slightly chuckled.

“Your friend, Therese, the dressmaker,” he started, “must’ve felt mortified to have you around. You should, in fact, know the history before traveling here; you have the ignorance of a foreigner.”

“Why am I being insulted when you asked me for a company in the first place?”

“Because you’re a werewolf or a lycan and your naivety of the supernatural experience appalls me.” I couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or if he was being direct because of his straight face. “What should I call you?”

“Ellie,” I responded and ignored his snide remarks, though I could feel claws growing out of my fingertips.

“Ellie,” he repeated. “Your name, surprisingly, matches your brain.”

I clenched my fists on my lap and forced a smile. I didn’t expect that his remarks would be as bad as his threats.

“You know what, Your Majesty, it’s quite late.” I stood from the stool and pulled the coat closer to my body.

“I thought I was being honest. And I will not allow you to leave unless you answer a simple question.”

“And what’s that?”

He stood, almost bumping his head against the hanging lamp of the bar, and stepped in front of me. He towered over my frame like a concrete wall; my straight gaze only leveled his chest. So  I lifted my chin so I was facing him.

But he was already looking down at me with those piercing eyes.

“Have one of my crows appeared to you lately?” he asked.

A sudden ping rang in my left ear, and that tug I’d been feeling in my chest went to static.

“Yes.” It escaped my mouth like a whisper.

“I asked my crow to send a message to my fated mate.” His eyes softened, and strands of dark hair fell on both sides of his face. “You look just like her.”