A black void. Empty noise. Everywhere she looked, nothing.
Panic engulfed her like an unforgiving current.
One moment she was looking into the eyes of the Prince, and the next…absolute darkness.
Helene tried to move, reaching out her hand into the abyss, but instead of her fingers touching the thick air, there was nothing but dark smoke. Something felt familiar about it. The dark, the vapors, the heavy blackness oozing through the air. It was as if she had touched it before or seen it somewhere in the depths of her memories.
The image of her mother flashed through her mind.
The black marks staining her skin, the tears of black blood, and the hallucinations she often suffered when she whispered about the smoke coming to get her. Her mother’s sickness was here. She couldn’t explain how, but it was there with her now, in this strange darkness she was trapped in.
Her heart hammering, Helene felt her breaths escaping her.
What…who…are you?
“Princess?”
Helene blinked.
Light flickered back into her vision until she was returned to the Ballroom.
“Princess Helene?” the same voice repeated in concern.
Her eyes focused until she found herself staring into the differing eyes of the Crown Prince.
One brown. One gold.
Her eyes wandered further.
Hair the color of dark honey neatly arranged so the brown strands didn’t fall into his peculiar eyes. Broad shoulders perched on a towering body that exuded power and strength. A sharp jaw, straight nose, and lips wincing as if he were in pain.
Pain?
She glanced down to find her fingers clutching the Prince’s outstretched hand in an unrelenting grip. Gasping in shock, she released her hold on him, her own hands screaming in agony from the burns that were still too fresh.
“Your eyes,” he muttered quietly, a frown indenting his striking face. “They…”
My eyes? She thought to herself. What about your eyes?
She had never seen a pair so glaringly different. It was unusual, but undeniably beautiful. So alluring, in fact, she found it hard to look away from that singular golden iris that stared back in question.
“My eyes?” she repeated back.
Prince Alexander shook himself and straightened, his frown clearing and a small smile pointing towards a dimple in his left cheek.
“It is an honor to finally meet you, Princess Helene,” he announced in a strong voice, the crowd around them waiting with bated breath as the young couple met for the very first time.
Shaking her own head to wake herself from her aberrant trance, she composed her features and curtsied before him again. “The honor is all mine, Your Highness.”
The orchestra played a soft, lively tune as Prince Alexander led her to the dais, where a golden goblet and a small, ornate box was sitting on a stand. After months of studying the different customs in Theolos, she knew this was where their betrothal would be officialized. She remembered thinking it was a stark contrast from Ravenia, where couples exchanged seeds to plant as a symbol of the growth and longevity of their union.
Still dazed and feeling hollow, Helene followed like a puppet on a string.
But she wasn’t the only puppet. As they faced each other with clasped hands, she saw the tension in the Prince’s jaw and his guarded eyes now distant and strained. Although he held a pleasant expression for the eyes watching them, she knew she wasn’t the only one who resented this forced accord.
Emperor Henry and his Empress appeared behind the stand and, together, they poured a generous fill of wine into the goblet. Taking the cup with both hands, Prince Alexander lifted the rim to her lips and tipped it slowly for her to drink.
Grateful for the alcohol that would help ease the pressure in her chest, Helene swallowed the bitter-sweet liquid. All the while, she looked into his eyes — part of the ceremony she now wished didn’t exist. It felt too intimate…standing close together and gazing into parts of the other she didn’t feel comfortable sharing.
After drinking her fill, she licked her lips and took the goblet from his hands. Bringing it to his mouth, she watched as he drained the cup in three strong gulps. When his lips departed with droplets of red hanging onto his supple skin, she immediately broke contact with his eyes and took her first real breath since they had begun.
Flicking a glance at the Emperor who stood there with a proud face, she was shocked to find that his eyes held the same strange colors. One brown. One gold.
She looked at the Empress, who had soft hazel eyes without the tag of gold.
How peculiar, she thought. Perhaps it was a Tristaine likeness that was passed down from the Emperor.
The nobles in the crowd clapped as the goblet was set back down on the stand. For the final act of their Betrothal Ceremony, Prince Alexander took the small box in his hands and opened it. Inside, sitting on a velvet cushion, was a large diamond ring encircled in sapphires and gold-plated gems. It was unmistakably lovely, but Helene wanted nothing to do with the abundant jewel.
No matter her desires, the Prince took her gloved hands and moved to slide the cool material from her fingers. It wasn’t until she glimpsed the edge of the cloth wrapping her burns that she wrenched her hand away from him.
“Princess?” he whispered in question, looking at her perplexed.
Glancing around the grand space, she saw the embellished Lords and Ladies, expectantly watching the scene. She could even feel the threatening gaze of her father on her back. It wouldn’t do her well to show her injuries. Not only were they still too raw and horrid to look at, but she couldn’t bear to see the look of satisfaction on Morgan’s face.
“I would like to keep my gloves on, if you will permit it,” she quietly requested.
His brows lowering, she saw him search her hand until he came across the bandaged cloth starting at her wrist. Softening his grip, he gave a minute nod of understanding, and with great care, placed the ring on her fourth finger. She clenched her jaw as the heavy pressure of it stung her wounded flesh.
“Princess Helene,” he started with an echoing voice. “I give you this ring as a symbol of our union to come, and with great pride and expectation, ask you to be my bride. Do you accept?”
No.
“Yes.”
The crowd cheered, and the music quickened to a cheerful beat as the celebration officially began. Offering her a slight smile of encouragement, he offered her his arm to make their way down to the floor where they could conclude their engagement with a dance.
Compliantly, Helene took it and was led down from the dais, where she passed the scornful looks of her half-siblings and the content conversation her father was now holding with the Emperor. Receiving congratulations and celebratory calls from the nobles bowing for the new couple, Helene pasted a vacant smile on her face.
When they reached the center of the Ballroom, a charming waltz began playing. Taking her waist and tenderly grasping her hand, Prince Alexander started to sway with her.
Long seconds of awkward silence hung in the air as they both avoided each other’s eyes. With the tension they had to endure while drinking the wine, Helene thought they had stared at each other enough to last a good few years without ever meeting eyes again.
Prince Alexander cleared his throat. “I wanted to say something, but now I can’t seem to find the right words,” he chuckled uncomfortably.
He twirled her around gracefully before bringing her back into his arms.
“We don’t need to exchange any words at all, Your Highness,” she replied with a stiff smile.
“But, I would like to. We barely know each other.”
Her lips twitched as she finally looked up at him. “We’re strangers.”
“That we are,” he sighed with a regretful grin. “All the more reason to know each other better.”
Stepping in beat with the lively rhythm, she pointed out, “We have years to do just that.”
She had meant to say it in good nature, but her voice betrayed the bitterness she felt. Observant as ever, it didn’t escape the Prince. Pressing his lips together, he nodded and extended a brief reprieve of silence.
“Ah,” he exclaimed suddenly, his eyes lighting up. “I should have mentioned it from the start… You look beautiful, Princess Helene. In fact, you were quite a vision walking down the aisle.”
Although she was slightly vexed that the silence was once again broken, she couldn’t pass over his hopeful remark, especially since he looked so proud to have remembered to compliment her. “Thank you, Your Highness. You look quite dashing yourself.”
He smiled, tilting his head. “I thought you had eyes of gold at first, but then they turned to be blue.”
Helene frowned. “My eyes have always been blue.”
“Just a trick of the light, then.”
“You have the gold in your eyes,” she mentioned with genuine interest. “I’ve never seen anyone with a pair of different colors.”
“Ah, yes. It’s a defining mark of a Tristaine child. My father even thinks it’s a blessing from the angels above.”
At his words, her vision turned dark again. She was back in that space of smoke and black and nothingness. Then, just as quick as it came, it disappeared.
Prince Alexander stopped moving as her head swayed in bewilderment.
“Your eyes. They just turned gold again.”
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