Emperor's Eyes Novels & Stories

Chapter Five – “I Can’t Take This Anymore” Maya’s POV The lights above me were bright and cold. I opened my eyes slowly, and the ceiling came into focus. White. Still. Silent. I felt like I was floating. My body was weak, like I had run a thousand miles and had nothing left in me. My head ached. My chest was heavy. And then… the memories returned. The call. The fire. My company. Gone.

Not only that, but he also chose to ignore Cher's fear and grievances, all in favor of Sylvia giving birth to the next heir of the Lambert family. The dejected-looking Marcus returned to the car, not daring to meet my eyes at all. I just smiled before saying, "Are you sure you want to continue to struggle? You should know very well that you can never win against your mother…" Marcus responded by slamming a fist onto the steering wheel. Then, he turned around to look at me ferociously, as though he was a beast trying to free himself from the chains binding him down. "I'll take you overseas! I still have assets under my name! I'll be able to cure your cancer, honey! Just trust me!"

I turned off the shower but I still couldn't get his scent off me. Wrapping myself in a robe, I went to my closet to pick an outfit for my interview tomorrow. I didn't want to be late. I needed this job. I ended up chosing a deep blue straight gown and a pair of red heels. I laid in bed and wrapped myself in blankets trying to sleep but I couldn't. Everytime I closed my eyes I was met the same set gold eyes. Haunting me and pulling me away from sleep. By the time it was 6am in the morning, I had gotten little to no sleep and my eyes were dull.

"Mummy is coming for you. I’m going to tear their empire down stone by stone, and then I’m never letting you go again." I quickly wiped my eyes and hid the photograph under a jewelry box on the drawers. Standing in front of the massive gilded mirror, I raised my hands to my temple. Carefully and slowly, I began to unravel the white bandage wrapped around my head. The wound from my fall down the stairs had mostly healed, leaving only a faint, angry pink line near my hairline. I was so focused on staring at my own reflection that I didn't hear the door click open. Suddenly, a tall imposing shadow loomed behind me in the glass.

As the gust of wind blew the window curtains, an alluring figure was glimpsing amidst the fluttering curtains laying on a rocking chair at the balcony. Anger, self-pitying, worries, sadness, these various types of emotions were playing from time to time on her delicate milky Indian contrast face. These emotions were adding another extra layer of beauty to her face. If she was born in the medieval era, she might become another Helen and the cause of the destruction of numerous cities and kingdoms. Yet, it seemed this world-destroying beauty was waiting for someone eagerly.

This was probably an assistant or a secretary, with that cold, far-away look in his serious dark eyes. In the next beat, just as he stepped into the elevator and the door closed behind him, she realized he was also very, very handsome. It was the kind of magazine-cover-polished male beauty that made everything around it seem to fade and blur. Nothing but him could be the focal point. Broad shouldered and powerful looking, his face was a strong, firm set of angles, his brow tensed in a permanent furrow that he somehow managed to make look good, where in anyone else it would look straight-out silly.

His eyes widened. Vilfredo's quaking eyes looked down to confirm the dagger stabbing deeply into his chest. The red liquid staining his hands was its own blood. When he looked at his front, unbearably close to him, his future empress was staring right back at him. Yet, his heart was thumping loudly. The supposed yellow eyes were now nowhere to be seen. “Red… crimson…” He blabbered without thinking. Mercilessly, she pulled her dagger out of his chest and crackled lightly. The unfamiliar red eyes were smiling big with lifted cheeks. She was enjoying this, for whatever reason despite how messy she looked.

PRINCESS EMERIEL “I see nothing wrong with your eyes, Princess.” Emeriel stared at the eye healer, shaking her head slowly. “No, you don’t understand. I see colors. And they’re even more vivid now. Eyes in proper condition shouldn’t see colors, Healer.” The Urekai woman paused packing her materials. She turned to face Emeriel fully, expression unreadable. “Tell me more about these colors you see.”

His eyes were what terrified her most. They were silver-gray, the color of moonlight on still water, and they held the weight of centuries. She could see centuries in those eyes... see the empires that had risen and fallen while he remained unchanged, see the countless people who'd fallen under his gaze and never risen again. They were the eyes of something that had learned patience when humans were still figuring out how to make fire. He watched her with the same detached interest a human might watch an interesting insect, like he was waiting to see what she would do next, like her reaction was a form of entertainment for him.