Chapter 54: 54
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"Serena," comes the Scarlet Prince's voice, eerie and distant in my head, as though speaking underwater. The words barely even sound human. Trembling (although from the cold of fear I cannot rightly tell). I glance up and realising he has not moved another inch towards me, lower my sword a little. Just a little.
"Serena you are glowing." he points out warily, gesturing towards me with a tip of his head, a pale reflection of concern sparkling in his eyes, his face alight with the ruse of stoicism. My heart leaps into my throat. True enough, my skin is indeed glowing, a warm light rebounding off me, mixing with the soft, buttery light of the dying sun.
It is not like I have not been known to glow before, there have always been occasions where my magical power had leaked past the superficial barriers the council had given me, though for what reasons I never knew. I was always the soul sufferer of these strange occurrences, for instance when expending a serious amount of magic, or whenever Ithuriel had teased me into emotional frustration. Yes, emotions and magic had always been the triggers, and I have both those ingredients, but never, never, had I glowed like this before.
If one might compare my former glowing to a star, then this would be the entire solar system condensed into one single being. My mouth goes dry. Something about it feels awfully, terribly wrong.
Soren seems to sense it too.
"Okay look, forget the glowing. Serena you are in shock, you are as white as a sheet. You need to get back to the palace," he urges, and gone is that flirty smile, the teasing that I have grown so accustomed to, replaced with an agonisingly bitter worry.
It twitches in his fingers, in the hazy shimmer of his eyes, and the long frown that creeps onto his face as the night creeps into the day. It's an odd expression, unfamiliar, as though it doesn't fit on his face quite right. His mouth twitches. I fold my arms over myself despite the wooziness of my head. He is trying to hide something- and he isn't very good at it. Despite this, I find myself grinning deliriously. The nature of his concern is so shocking to me that I almost laugh out loud.
"Stop frowning, you will give your perfect face wrinkles, Scarlet Prince," I snicker despite myself, and make to sheath my sword, but Soren darts forward to catch my hand in his. Cold fingers close over my own.
"On second thoughts, keep it out, I do not trust myself. Though I may be convinced now I will not hurt you, if more blood is split you may not find yourself so lucky to conjure another spell to stop me in my tracks." The harsh reality of his words cut deep into my mind.
He is right, again, and even if he did not know it, I have let myself get too complacent, too lazy. At the end of the day, he is a vampire, and a hungry one at that. One that takes without asking, feeds without restraint, and kills without caring, who lives of discord and anarchy, and will cut out the hearts of those who do so much as displease him.
If he smells blood- my blood- once more, then I wouldn't have the energy to conjure a spell to stop him, let alone repeat whatever magic I had expelled from my body moments ago. He would kill me, drain me, without a second thought about it. Sheathing my sword is not worth the risk. The smile fades from my face.
"Okay," I say quietly now. Soren does not let go of my hand. When he notices my gaze, he offers up a brittle smile.
"You have been trembling for five minutes now, little dove," he whispers softly, voice lingering with a weak mockery that upon reflection I think might be to serve as a distraction. Though whether that is to distract me of himself I cannot tell. As if on queue, my head spins and all the events of this evening seem to catch up on me. My knees buckle.
"Easy there, little dove," Soren says, steadying me with an arm hooked around my waist. I let him keep it there, knowing that without it, I would probably be on the floor already. "Let me take you back," he offers, bringing another hand to linger on my shoulder. I barely feel it. "We can talk about… all this when you have calmed down a bit, hmm?" Soren gives another reassuring smile. I bite my lip.
Whether he is referring to my strange new magic, or the now blatant fact that I was following him, I cannot tell. Either way, I am not eager to find out. I frown at him, and the strange look appears on his face again, confirming my suspicions. Yes, he definitely knows something.
"Okay then," I sigh at last. "Take me back,"
"As you wish, Serena darling," he says lowly with an overly flamboyant flick of his hair, mouth twitching into his characteristic smirk. I can help but smile back. There is the Soren I know.
Within seconds, he transports us back, and that sickening feeling tears through my gut, like my insides are being ripped apart by the fangs of a thousand shadowy vampires, only to be reformed from every painful strand one by one. It's a split second feeling, but with the nausea that has already been brewing in my stomach, it's enough to send me hurtling over the edge. As soon as we reach the solid ground of the palace hallways, my stomach churns. I bend over double and vomit.
Soren, to his credit, is quick to react, scooping back loose strands of my hair away from my face and steadying a hand on my back to stop me collapsing into the mess on the ground. Had I the effort to speak through bouts of vomits, I might have liked to thank him.
The hallway, however, is not empty. Flittering among the dim lights like moths to a lamp, vampires and a manner of Faey folk- halflings, faeries, and a shocked looking elven butler (who immediately drops his plates with a loud clatter as the suddenness of it all), dip in and out of the shadows. Watching, waiting. A group of female vampires merely adjust the straps on their lacey dresses and continue plodding down the hallway on too-high heels, sneers etched into their faces.
Others, the less kinder- if any vampire could be considered kind at all, sneer into my face, laughing at a pitch just low enough for me to hear:
"Disgusting elf."
Well, I think grimly to myself, at least it's a step down from 'elven whore'.
For Soren, however, that is just the last of a long line of grievances, and in the split second it takes me to look back to him, he has already snapped.
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"Serena," comes the Scarlet Prince's voice, eerie and distant in my head, as though speaking underwater. The words barely even sound human. Trembling (although from the cold of fear I cannot rightly tell). I glance up and realising he has not moved another inch towards me, lower my sword a little. Just a little.
"Serena you are glowing." he points out warily, gesturing towards me with a tip of his head, a pale reflection of concern sparkling in his eyes, his face alight with the ruse of stoicism. My heart leaps into my throat. True enough, my skin is indeed glowing, a warm light rebounding off me, mixing with the soft, buttery light of the dying sun.
It is not like I have not been known to glow before, there have always been occasions where my magical power had leaked past the superficial barriers the council had given me, though for what reasons I never knew. I was always the soul sufferer of these strange occurrences, for instance when expending a serious amount of magic, or whenever Ithuriel had teased me into emotional frustration. Yes, emotions and magic had always been the triggers, and I have both those ingredients, but never, never, had I glowed like this before.
If one might compare my former glowing to a star, then this would be the entire solar system condensed into one single being. My mouth goes dry. Something about it feels awfully, terribly wrong.
Soren seems to sense it too.
"Okay look, forget the glowing. Serena you are in shock, you are as white as a sheet. You need to get back to the palace," he urges, and gone is that flirty smile, the teasing that I have grown so accustomed to, replaced with an agonisingly bitter worry.
It twitches in his fingers, in the hazy shimmer of his eyes, and the long frown that creeps onto his face as the night creeps into the day. It's an odd expression, unfamiliar, as though it doesn't fit on his face quite right. His mouth twitches. I fold my arms over myself despite the wooziness of my head. He is trying to hide something- and he isn't very good at it. Despite this, I find myself grinning deliriously. The nature of his concern is so shocking to me that I almost laugh out loud.
"Stop frowning, you will give your perfect face wrinkles, Scarlet Prince," I snicker despite myself, and make to sheath my sword, but Soren darts forward to catch my hand in his. Cold fingers close over my own.
"On second thoughts, keep it out, I do not trust myself. Though I may be convinced now I will not hurt you, if more blood is split you may not find yourself so lucky to conjure another spell to stop me in my tracks." The harsh reality of his words cut deep into my mind.
He is right, again, and even if he did not know it, I have let myself get too complacent, too lazy. At the end of the day, he is a vampire, and a hungry one at that. One that takes without asking, feeds without restraint, and kills without caring, who lives of discord and anarchy, and will cut out the hearts of those who do so much as displease him.
If he smells blood- my blood- once more, then I wouldn't have the energy to conjure a spell to stop him, let alone repeat whatever magic I had expelled from my body moments ago. He would kill me, drain me, without a second thought about it. Sheathing my sword is not worth the risk. The smile fades from my face.
"Okay," I say quietly now. Soren does not let go of my hand. When he notices my gaze, he offers up a brittle smile.
"You have been trembling for five minutes now, little dove," he whispers softly, voice lingering with a weak mockery that upon reflection I think might be to serve as a distraction. Though whether that is to distract me of himself I cannot tell. As if on queue, my head spins and all the events of this evening seem to catch up on me. My knees buckle.
"Easy there, little dove," Soren says, steadying me with an arm hooked around my waist. I let him keep it there, knowing that without it, I would probably be on the floor already. "Let me take you back," he offers, bringing another hand to linger on my shoulder. I barely feel it. "We can talk about… all this when you have calmed down a bit, hmm?" Soren gives another reassuring smile. I bite my lip.
Whether he is referring to my strange new magic, or the now blatant fact that I was following him, I cannot tell. Either way, I am not eager to find out. I frown at him, and the strange look appears on his face again, confirming my suspicions. Yes, he definitely knows something.
"Okay then," I sigh at last. "Take me back,"
"As you wish, Serena darling," he says lowly with an overly flamboyant flick of his hair, mouth twitching into his characteristic smirk. I can help but smile back. There is the Soren I know.
Within seconds, he transports us back, and that sickening feeling tears through my gut, like my insides are being ripped apart by the fangs of a thousand shadowy vampires, only to be reformed from every painful strand one by one. It's a split second feeling, but with the nausea that has already been brewing in my stomach, it's enough to send me hurtling over the edge. As soon as we reach the solid ground of the palace hallways, my stomach churns. I bend over double and vomit.
Soren, to his credit, is quick to react, scooping back loose strands of my hair away from my face and steadying a hand on my back to stop me collapsing into the mess on the ground. Had I the effort to speak through bouts of vomits, I might have liked to thank him.
The hallway, however, is not empty. Flittering among the dim lights like moths to a lamp, vampires and a manner of Faey folk- halflings, faeries, and a shocked looking elven butler (who immediately drops his plates with a loud clatter as the suddenness of it all), dip in and out of the shadows. Watching, waiting. A group of female vampires merely adjust the straps on their lacey dresses and continue plodding down the hallway on too-high heels, sneers etched into their faces.
Others, the less kinder- if any vampire could be considered kind at all, sneer into my face, laughing at a pitch just low enough for me to hear:
"Disgusting elf."
Well, I think grimly to myself, at least it's a step down from 'elven whore'.
For Soren, however, that is just the last of a long line of grievances, and in the split second it takes me to look back to him, he has already snapped.
"Serena," comes the Scarlet Prince's voice, eerie and distant in my head, as though speaking underwater. The words barely even sound human. Trembling although from the cold of fear I cannot rightly tell. I glance up and realising he has not moved another inch towards me, lower my sword a little. Just a little. "Serena you are glowing." he points out warily, gesturing towards me with a tip of his head, a pale reflection of concern sparkling in his eyes, his face alight with the ruse of stoicism. My heart leaps into my throat. True enough, my skin is indeed glowing, a warm light rebounding off me, mixing with the soft, buttery light of the dying sun. It is not like I have not been known to glow before, there have always been occasions where my magical power had leaked past the superficial barriers the council had given me, though for what reasons I never knew. I was always the soul sufferer of these strange occurrences, for instance when expending a serious amount of magic, or whenever Ithuriel had teased me into emotional frustration. Yes, emotions and magic had always been the triggers, and I have both those ingredients, but never, never, had I glowed like this before. If one might compare my former glowing to a star, then this would be the entire solar system condensed into one single being. My mouth goes dry. Something about it feels awfully, terribly wrong.Soren seems to sense it too."Okay look, forget the glowing. Serena you are in shock, you are as white as a sheet. You need to get back to the palace," he urges, and gone is that flirty smile, the teasing that I have grown so accustomed to, replaced with an agonisingly bitter worry. It twitches in his fingers, in the hazy shimmer of his eyes, and the long frown that creeps onto his face as the night creeps into the day. It's an odd expression, unfamiliar, as though it doesn't fit on his face quite right. His mouth twitches. I fold my arms over myself despite the wooziness of my head. He is trying to hide something- and he isn't very good at it. Despite this, I find myself grinning deliriously. The nature of his concern is so shocking to me that I almost laugh out loud."Stop frowning, you will give your perfect face wrinkles, Scarlet Prince," I snicker despite myself, and make to sheath my sword, but Soren darts forward to catch my hand in his. Cold fingers close over my own."On second thoughts, keep it out, I do not trust myself. Though I may be convinced now I will not hurt you, if more blood is split you may not find yourself so lucky to conjure another spell to stop me in my tracks." The harsh reality of his words cut deep into my mind. He is right, again, and even if he did not know it, I have let myself get too complacent, too lazy. At the end of the day, he is a vampire, and a hungry one at that. One that takes without asking, feeds without restraint, and kills without caring, who lives of discord and anarchy, and will cut out the hearts of those who do so much as displease him. If he smells blood- my blood- once more, then I wouldn't have the energy to conjure a spell to stop him, let alone repeat whatever magic I had expelled from my body moments ago. He would kill me, drain me, without a second thought about it. Sheathing my sword is not worth the risk. The smile fades from my face."Okay," I say quietly now. Soren does not let go of my hand. When he notices my gaze, he offers up a brittle smile."You have been trembling for five minutes now, little dove," he whispers softly, voice lingering with a weak mockery that upon reflection I think might be to serve as a distraction. Though whether that is to distract me of himself I cannot tell. As if on queue, my head spins and all the events of this evening seem to catch up on me. My knees buckle."Easy there, little dove," Soren says, steadying me with an arm hooked around my waist. I let him keep it there, knowing that without it, I would probably be on the floor already. "Let me take you back," he offers, bringing another hand to linger on my shoulder. I barely feel it. "We can talk about all this when you have calmed down a bit, hmm?" Soren gives another reassuring smile. I bite my lip. Whether he is referring to my strange new magic, or the now blatant fact that I was following him, I cannot tell. Either way,I am not eager to find out. I frown at him, and the strange look appears on his face again, confirming my suspicions. Yes, he definitely knows something."Okay then," I sigh at last. "Take me back,""As you wish, Serena darling," he says lowly with an overly flamboyant flick of his hair, mouth twitching into his characteristic smirk. I can help but smile back. There is the Soren I know.Within seconds, he transports us back, and that sickening feeling tears through my gut, like my insides are being ripped apart by the fangs of a thousand shadowy vampires, only to be reformed from every painful strand one by one. It's a split second feeling, but with the nausea that has already been brewing in my stomach, it's enough to send me hurtling over the edge. As soon as we reach the solid ground of the palace hallways, my stomach churns. I bend over double and vomit. Soren, to his credit, is quick to react, scooping back loose strands of my hair away from my face and steadying a hand on my back to stop me collapsing into the mess on the ground. Had I the effort to speak through bouts of vomits, I might have liked to thank him.The hallway, however, is not empty. Flittering among the dim lights like moths to a lamp, vampires and a manner of Faey folk- halflings, faeries, and a shocked looking elven butler who immediately drops his plates with a loud clatter as the suddenness of it all, dip in and out of the shadows. Watching, waiting. A group of female vampires merely adjust the straps on their lacey dresses and continue plodding down the hallway on too-high heels, sneers etched into their faces. Others, the less kinder- if any vampire could be considered kind at all, sneer into my face, laughing at a pitch just low enough for me to hear:"Disgusting elf."Well, I think grimly to myself, at least it's a step down from 'elven whore'.For Soren, however, that is just the last of a long line of grievances, and in the split second it takes me to look back to him, he has already snapped.
