by Erin O’Farrell
Editor’s Note; An excerpt of this full story was published in this week’s issue of the Visionary.
Music coursed through the air, and light from the two moons spilled across the floor, grappling at the dancing figures from behind the looming arched windows.
Everyone had been invited to the ball, even some of the (more recognized) peasants. But the king was generous that way. He had to be.
The king of Oswell invited the other kingdoms to join as well, and the kings and queens brought with them their more recognized peasants, knights, along with the viscounts, earls, and dukes and their children. It was more for show than anything else- each kingdom wanted to prove that they had the best people, the people that deserved the respect of their peers in the other kingdoms. So everyone, including the peasants, lifted their chins and danced as gracefully as they had been taught to do for an event like this.
The king of Oswell, bless that old man’s heart, must have felt obligated to invite the kingdom of Ethaecia. The two nations despised each other in a not-so-well-kept secret, and any words passed between two of those citizens was through bared teeth that left a chill hanging in the air. That was the idea, anyway.
Cassandra had no idea how she managed to take part in the ball, but apparently her father had caught the attention of Queen Veronica, the queen of Ethaecia, seeing as so few barons like himself were invited. He stood at Cassandra’s side when they first arrived, and he reminded her to keep her shoulders back and chin up, and to curtsey and be polite to everyone she may come across. Then he disappeared into the flocks of nobles.
Cassandra sighed and stared down the crowd. She knew of only one other person she actually liked attending the ball, and she was nowhere to be seen. Cassandra stuck with being a wallflower.
“Oh, look,” a low voice cooed, and Cassandra’s back immediately straightened. She whipped around to see a boy a few years older than her smirking. “A debutante,” he noted. Cassandra frowned, yet curtseyed like she was told. He raised his eyebrows, not moving.
“Your name?” he asked shortly.
“Cassandra,” she said, her gaze sharpening. “No need to be so callous.”
“My apologies, Lady Cassandra. I trust that you’re forgiving.” He held out an arm to her. “I’m Jerome Brians of Chivston, son of an earl.”
She took his arm and tried not to roll her eyes. “I hear Chivston has the finest gardens.”
“You heard correctly.” He led her onto the floor and swayed with the soft music. Cassandra silently prayed that she wouldn’t trip over her own feet. “And our water is said to perform miracles.”
“Such as?”
His dark eyes glinted. “You haven’t heard? It’s said to heal any wound, cure any illness, and grant any wish.” He chuckled softly in her ear. “Maybe I could show you some of its powers in the near future.”
Ugh, gag. “How lovely, but I’m afraid I do live quite a distance away.”
“I’m sure something could be arranged. Tell me, where are you from, Lady Cassandra?”
“Ethaecia.”
“I see. It must have been a long ride to attend this ball.”
“I suppose it was.”
“Surely you would prefer a shorter journey.”
Cassandra glanced around the hall. “I beg your pardon?”
He laughed. “A mere question, Lady Cassandra,” he said, and she began to feel as if she was trapped, and his eyes began to look more hungry than intrigued.
“Cassandra!”
A girl with dark hair and a sharp nose knocked Jerome away from Cassandra, pulling her friend into a hug. Cassandra thanked the deities for sending Ella to her rescue.
“I thought I’d missed you!” Ella exclaimed, quickly holding Cassandra in front of her and scanning her. “You look amazing,” she decided. Cassandra smiled.
“You were always the one to appreciate fine dresses.”
“I was, wasn’t I.” Ella’s gaze slid towards Jerome, who raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Sorry,” Ella said, her voice anything but. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Yes,” he said coolly. “As a matter of fact, your beauteous friend was just about to introduce me to her father.” He held out an arm to Cassandra. She wrinkled her nose.
“No, I don’t believe I was. It has been a pleasure meeting you.”
She quickly turned and marched away, and Ella matched her stride.
“Chivston, I presume?” Ella raised her eyebrows, and Cassandra nodded.
“Are all of them like that?”
“I’d love to say yes, but I would be lying.” Ella sighed dramatically. “Nevertheless, Oswell is a different story. Every single one of them has a head larger than their empire. You can imagine.”
“They probably think the same of us,” Cassandra replied dryly. “I wonder why King Isaac invited Ethaecia.”
“He has to. Just because Oswell hates us doesn’t mean they should ignore us. Besides, Queen Veronica would throw a fit if he hadn’t.”
“That is true.” Cassandra glanced at the thrones at the front and center of the room. Neither King Isaac nor his son presided from there.
“At least we’re correct,” Ella said suddenly, and Cassandra raised her eyebrows. “About Oswell’s big heads, I mean,” she clarified. Cassandra looked away, watching everyone dance across the floor.
“Have you ever truly met someone of Oswell, Ella?” she asked. Ella huffed.
“I’ve heard enough stories from exceptionally reliable sources.”
“I’m sure you have.” Cassandra grinned, and Ella placed a hand over her heart in feigned shock.
“You do not believe me? I’m hurt.”
“I am simply stating that you should not judge all of Oswell by a single story, even if it’s from an… exceptionally reliable source.”
“Very well. However, if the king or his son is as stuck-up as I expect them to be, then I have the right to assume that all of their people are the same.”
“Not really, but as you wish.” Cassandra sighed. “It’d be interesting to meet the prince of Oswell.”
“Yes, truly,” Ella agreed. “I’ve heard many a rumor of him.”
“As have I. It would be quite the experience to meet the man who inspired such stories.”
“Man… or beast?”
The two girls burst into a fit of laughter. Cassandra wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Oh my, Ella,” she said. “You do have quite the imagination.”
“If you’ve heard the stories I’ve heard, you’d be asking the same questions!”
“I’m sure I would.” She snorted, then quickly covered her mouth. Ella rolled her eyes.
“Darling, you have no need to be so proper around me; only to people that aren’t your friends. Unless they’re twits like that guy from Chivston.”
“Thank you, Ella.”
“Sure thing. Now, I’ve got to find me-“
“Excuse me, ladies.” A boy with dark hair and shockingly green eyes flashed them an impish smile. His jacket told them he was rich. His crown, while modest and almost lost in the mop of his hair, told them how.
Ella lifted her chin and looked away. “Ugh. A princeling.”
He grinned. “Ah. You’re one of those girls.”
“Tell me your name and then I’ll decide if you are worthy enough to dance with me.”
He laughed. “How adorable. If only I could always speak with someone like you.”
“Don’t flatter me.” Ella raised her nose higher and bat her eyelashes. “Your name?”
“Damon.”
She gave him a shy smile that Cassandra had seen her friend use many times before.
“Where you from, Damon?”
“Right now, that is of no importance. I only ask for a dance.”
She sized him up. “Damon sounds familiar. What are you the prince of?”
He laughed. “Please, madam, I simply ask to dance.”
“You sound desperate.”
“Possibly because I am. I’m afraid my father is watching me and expects me to socialize quite extravagantly. Unfortunately, it isn’t my favorite pastime.”
“You’re father?”
“Indeed. Please, just-“
“On one condition.” Ella took a threatening step towards him, squinting. “Tell me where you’re from. Is it Dahsiston? Or are you prince of Tabelsbeth?” She raised her eyebrows suspiciously. “Is that why you’re so desperate? You want to marry into fortune?”
He blinked. “Madam, I didn’t propose.”
“You didn’t need to. You stink of the eleventh-hour.”
Cassandra was tempted to tell Ella she was pushing it. He seemed nice- wasn’t that enough? All he was asking for was one dance.
He clenched his jaw and looked to Cassandra. “May I trouble you to a dance?”
Cassandra glanced at Ella. She didn’t want Ella to make fun of her for dancing with the prince of dirt, but she didn’t want Damon to slink away with a chip on his shoulder. She took his hand, and he offered a smile.
“M’lady-“
“It’s Cassandra,” she replied when he pulled her into the crowd. “Don’t call me lady.”
He bowed his head respectfully. “As you wish. And if I may ask, does your friend always behave like so?”
Cassandra shrugged. “She’s just trying to land someone of both good face and fortune.”
He chuckled. “Then she has competition. Every young lady is attempting the same thing.” He arched an eyebrow. “And you?”
She shrugged. “I’m just trying to live through this event.”
“Then we share that in common.” He led her across the floor with ease, swaying her to the melodious sounds pouring from the instruments on stage.
“Tell me, Cassandra, from where have you come to celebrate such an awful evening?”
“English, please.”
He grinned. “Which empire are you from?”
“Did you mean awful as in good awful or awful as in bad awful?”
“Either way is acceptable, depending on your perspective.” His eyes glinted. “I am going to guess,” he declared.
“Guess what?”
“You must reside in one of the larger empires, I suppose, considering my interesting conversation with your friend.”
“Oh, do go on.”
“And since the both of you are prone to speaking whatever words decorate your mind-“
“Is that meant to be an insult?”
“Merely an observation. Anyway, that leaves your home to be Chivston, Oswell, or Ethaecia.” He smiled wickedly. “How did I manage?”
“You managed,” she admitted, “yet that is three choices. I only live in one.”
“Frankly, one is just too repulsive that I cast it away immediately, and the other is not likely for my own reasons.”
“Now, you’ve lost me.”
“My apologies. Nevertheless, I presume that you reside in Chivston.”
“No.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Oh?”
“What did you mean by one choice not being likely for your own personal reasons?”
“Maybe I meant that I travel often.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does to me, Cassandra.”
She allowed for a smile. “Is it really so important, Damon?” she asked. He dipped her, his green eyes scanning her own eyes. He held her there a moment too long. The music swept away without them.
He held her there for another split second, then pulled her towards him. “No, it is not,” he decided. “And I’m afraid that I did not thank you for the dance.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He released a deep breath, then held her gaze. His stare made Cassandra blush and glance away.
“So,” she said quickly, trying not to step on his feet, “your father wanted you to socialize?”
“That is correct.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he echoed. “Tell me, why are you here?”
“Because my father is.”
“And why is he here?”
“He was asked to come.”
“And what did he ask of you to do while he was with the other gentlemen?”
“To be polite.”
“Which you have done miserably.”
She stepped on his foot, and he winced.
“A joke, Cassandra. What I meant is that… well, I presumed that most everyone was here to socialize and meet with people from the other kingdoms, even if it was just to hold one’s own head higher.”
“So your dad wants you to mingle so that you look better than everyone else?”
“No, he…” Damon frowned. “I suppose I should ask him myself. Maybe he simply wanted me to introduce myself to everyone.”
“Which you have done miserably, Damon from the Land of Mystery.”
“You have had equal success, Cassandra of the Unknown.”
She smiled. “Very well. I am Cassandra Preece of Ethaecia. And you-“
He froze abruptly, and Cassandra tripped before stopping as well. Damon released her from his light grip and took a step back, his elfish eyes narrowed to slits.
“Ethaecia?” he murmured, and Cassandra stiffly nodded. He squared his shoulders, eyeing her more critically. “Then, I suppose it would be proper that I introduce myself,” he said through gritted teeth. “I am Prince Damon Shores of Oswell.”
“You’re the Wolf?” she asked, the words spilling out before she could stop them. Stories all across Ethaecia told of Oswell’s prince and his infamous disappearances that ever-so happened to correspond with five of the most ruthless murders ever performed in all of the realms. His rumored blood-stained clothes upon his return apparently weren’t enough to convict, and any witnesses were terrified into absolute silence or were incapable of speaking at all. Prince Damon had then been deemed “The Wolf” for the murders that were as vicious as the killings of that animal, and Cassandra had used and heard that name so often that she never knew the prince’s true name.
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharpening to where Cassandra wished she could snatch the words back and swallow them. Damon had suddenly transformed into someone cold and calculating in the blink of an eye, and Cassandra was wishing that she’d have blown him off like Ella had.
“The Wolf?” he asked slowly, and Cassandra swallowed. He pulled her back towards him and picked up where they left off, gently swaying. Cassandra wasn’t sure if she should be terrified or relieved. He looked past her, and they both remained silent for a while, Cassandra searching for a chance to escape.
“The Wolf,” he repeated softly. “I hope that you don’t mind me asking how I earned such a name.”
Was it her imagination, or had his grip just tightened?
“N-no reason,” she stuttered. “I was just… I was mistaken, that’s all.”
“Mistaken?” His eyes flashed. “I do not appreciate liars, Cassandra.”
“Don’t attempt to lecture me about lying,” she snapped, and his face twisted. He opened his mouth to snarl a reply, but she spoke over him, hardly noticing as her voice rose. “I have heard enough of you to know that you are practically sewn together by lies!”
“Then why don’t you tell me what you have heard!” he shouted, and the people around them stood still. Soon, the music creaked and faded away, and Cassandra could feel the eyes of everyone burning into her neck. Apparently, people were paying Damon more attention than she noticed before. Occasional shouting wasn’t uncommon at this event, but it seemed that the prince of Oswell couldn’t get away with it.
Cassandra didn’t avert her gaze from Damon’s eyes, and he remained just as stubborn. She could feel him loosen his grip on her, and he clenched his jaw. Slowly, his hands dropped to his side. The stares of everyone around them rolled in like a tidal wave, and Cassandra desperately wanted an escape from it, yet she didn’t dare move. Damon closed his eyes.
“My apologies,” he whispered. “I did not intend to raise my voice at you, Cassandra.”
She tried to reply, tried to tell him that it was her own fault, but the words wouldn’t escape. She felt like she was drowning. Damon began to slink away.
“Wait!” She reached over and grabbed his shoulder, and he stiffened. It seemed like everyone else in the room did the same.
“It was me,” she managed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”
He took three slow breaths before turning. His eyes were distant, and he glanced around at the crowd. Everyone turned away, either finding a sudden interest in their feet or looking towards another man.
Cassandra recognized him as King Isaac. King Isaac had visited Ethaecia to personally speak with Queen Veronica, and Cassandra had ended up seeing quite a lot of him as he traveled from town to town. He had smile lines, yet she never saw him do as much as grin. She assumed that it was because his son turned out to be a cold-blooded killer, and he hadn’t smiled in years. His hair was gray, too gray for a man his age.
King Isaac took a step forward, and people parted out of his way. “Damon,” he said gruffly. “Must I speak with you?”
Damon refused to meet his father’s gaze. “No, sir.”
“Why did you yell at the young lady?”
“It was my fault,” Cassandra said quickly before she could lose her courage. “Prince Damon is not to blame. I’m truly sorry, King Isaac.” She bowed her head, waiting for a response. The wait felt like hours.
“Your name?”
“Cassandra Preece, Your Majesty.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Are you saying that you were agitating my son, the prince of Oswell?”
She swallowed her pride and tried to ignore all of the eyes set on her. She didn’t want to imagine what her father, or Ella for that matter, was thinking.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Much to her surprise, the slightest smile split his face. “Good. My son could use a little competition every once in a while.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Damon breathed a sigh of relief and King Isaac scoffed.
“Miss Cassandra,” he said, taking two long strides until he stood directly in front of her. His voice lowered to a near whisper. “Few people want to talk to my son after what they think he did, let alone push his buttons to try to upset him. Thus, all people have been tiptoeing around him, and I feared that he got used to it. He needs to see a little opposition every once in a while.”
Cassandra blinked stupidly. Damon cleared his throat and King Isaac’s gaze flicked towards him. His son forced himself to meet his eyes.
“Sir,” he said quietly, “is there anything you need to discuss?”
King Isaac smiled kindly back at Cassandra. “No, there is not,” he said to his son. He fixed his gaze on the crowd of people. “Please, carry on dancing!” he said not unkindly. “A simple misunderstanding!”
The throngs of people murmured amongst themselves, yet the band began to play so many began to dance. Others drifted around to gossip.
King Isaac watched them for a few moments, then turned his attention back to Cassandra. “Tell me, where are you from?”
There it was: the ominous question that everyone seemed to be asking yet didn’t want to hear the answer to.
“I’m from Ethaecia,” she replied, trying not to wince.
King Isaac lifted his chin and wrinkled his nose distastefully. “How… interesting. I suppose that you are permitted to be sharp of tongue?”
“I prefer the term ‘educated,'” she said, then paused apprehensively. King Isaac’s jaw set.
“Interesting,” he echoed. “Because of this newfound information, I ask a single favor from you.”
A single thought dashed across Cassandra’s mind: Oh, no.
Her father had asked one thing of her, and that was to be polite. She had started off so well, but it seemed that her manners were in a downward spiral, and King Isaac wasn’t too fond of it.
The king of Oswell looked down at her in a way that made Cassandra feel two feet tall. She gulped.
“What is the favor, Your Majesty?” she asked cautiously.
“Stay away from my son,” he hissed, and Cassandra drew back, watching as the king strode away. First, he tells her that Damon needed a little competition, and next, he was telling her to back away from Damon. She glanced back at the prince, who was watching his father disappear into the midst of people. Cassandra took the opportunity and tried to hurry away, holding her skirts up.
“No! Cassandra!” The prince rushed after her, then spun her around to face him. “Cassandra,” he said, his voice much softer, “what did he tell you?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Damon, but I can’t… It-it was nice meeting you.” A lie, but a gentle one.
“Because you’re from Ethaecia?”
She didn’t reply, but wrenched away from his grasp. He released her, but she could see how worried he was.
“Cassandra, I know that my reaction to your being from that kingdom was not… preferable, but please-”
“Why are you trying so hard?”
He frowned. “What?”
“I mean, what do you want?”
“What I want?” He stared at her like it was obvious. “Just, please, I need to know what they’re saying.”
“Who?”
“Ethaecia.” He held her gaze, unwavering. His green eyes glowed like torches.
“About you?” She momentarily forgot what King Isaac had told her, but the moment she remembered, she pulled away. “I’m sorry, Damon, I truly am, but I can’t stay. I shouldn’t.” She quickly turned and wedged herself into the flocks, searching for Ella.
She found Cassandra first. A hand snatched her wrist and dragged her out of the crowd and over to the round tables lit by candles that flickered pleasantly. Ella glanced around as if to make sure nobody was listening in. When she seemed satisfied, she clenched her fists and hopped up and down excitably.
“Oh, my goodness!” she squealed. “Did you hear that? Did you see that? I was looking all over for you!”
“See what?”
Her jaw dropped. “Seriously? Okay, so apparently the prince of Oswell is here, right! And apparently, the girl he was with got on his bad side, right! Apparently-“
“I beg of you to make your point, Ella.”
“Did you not hear him yell? Goodness, Cassandra! But did you see him? Did you get a glimpse of Oswell’s prince? I tried, but I was behind everyone from Dahsiston, and all of them are so tall.”
She doesn’t know that was me and Damon, Cassandra realized, staring at her friend.
“No, I didn’t get much of a view, either,” Cassandra said slowly. Ella squinted at her.
“Uh-huh. And how about that Damon guy? Do you mind sharing why you left me for him? Where was he from, anyway?”
“Oh, well, we never really discussed where he lived, actually-“
“Not a chance. That’s practically all the talk at these events.”
“Apparently not all of it.”
“I’m amazed.”
Cassandra shrugged. She hated lying to her friends, but there was no way she was spilling that she not only danced with the Wolf, but she was the girl that angered him.
“I’m sorry,” Cassandra said, “but I need a breath of fresh air. Don’t get too rowdy without me, Ella.”
“Sure thing. Are you feeling ill?”
“No, I’m… I’m fine.” She offered a fleeting smile and fled the room, shoving open the doors and welcoming the crisp air with a sigh.
She wandered towards a looming, delicately carved fountain. Water poured down the side, bouncing off the corners and edges. She watched it dazedly, and someone appeared at her side. She huffed.
“Ella, I would prefer to be-“
“Wrong person.”
She stiffened. Out of the corner of her eye, she searched for anybody else, but no one was there to be seen. Her hands began shaking, and she clenched her fists.
“Cassandra…”
“Damon,” she said sharply, “King Isaac told me to stay away from you. I’m from Ethaecia- you’re practically banned from speaking to me.”
“What did you mean by calling me the Wolf?”
It was such a simple question, and he asked it innocently enough, but Cassandra felt as if a ghost just blew a breath at the back of her neck. The black sky yawned and threatened to swallow her, and her and Damon’s shadows cast by the light of the moons stretched and coiled their talons. The abstract figure of the water fountain slowly and painfully morphed into a beast.
“Please…” Her voice was sucked into the dark chasm, disappearing into the nearly nonexistent air.
Damon remained quiet for a while, and after some time, Cassandra cast him a curious glance. He was glaring at the streaming water as if it had personally offended him. He must have felt her stare, and he met her gaze. His eyes reflected the cold gazes of the two moons. He waited for her to speak.
Cassandra hesitated, then sat on the edge of the fountain’s pool. He took a seat next to her, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his legs. He remained patient, the last thing she would expect from a wolf.
“The-the murders,” she murmured, flattening her dress. “The ones when the men and the women were… killed and… ripped apart.”
He nodded, still quiet.
“Everyone… they think… they think you did that.”
“Why?”
“Because you were gone then, and when you got back, your clothes were covered in blood. They said… I heard that you were already driven mad before that, and that’s why your father never allowed you in public. After the murders… They said the killing were like some sort of wolf attack- inhuman. So… you became known… you became known as the Wolf.” She stared at her feet, waiting for some sort of reaction.
“What do you think?” he asked eventually.
“Frankly, I don’t know what I should think. You don’t appear mad, at least I didn’t think so when you asked to dance.”
“You changed your mind?”
She remained silent. The temperature seemed to drop suddenly, and she shivered. Damon shrugged off his jacket and laid it across her shoulders.
“Cassandra,” he said softly, “I want to know what you think. Do you truly believe that I committed that crime?”
“Why are you asking me?” She finally met his gaze, and his expression softened. “Why do you want to know what I think?”
He opened and closed his mouth, finding himself short of a reply. Cassandra tugged at the end of her dress, lost in thought while the Wolf remained lost of an answer.
“I don’t even know you,” she stated simply. He arched an eyebrow.
“Then I suppose I must change that.”
Before she could protest, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet, his jacket falling to the ground. He bent over and snatched it up, tossing it over a shoulder and hooking one of his arms through hers.
“Let’s get inside, and we can just talk. How does that sound?”
“Dangerous.”
He laughed.
“I mean it. King Isaac told me to stay away from you, and you seemed perfectly terrified of him.”
His smile became a frown. “I see why you fret. Nevertheless, King Isaac knows that it will not bode well for him to harm you on such unfair grounds like being in my company.” He led her back inside towards the tables. Cassandra scanned the room for Ella and spotted her friend still lingering where she left her.
“Fine,” she said to Damon, “but you’ll be talking to both me and Ella.”
He blinked. “And why is that?”
“Because I don’t trust you.”
She marched up to Ella, and Ella glared past her at Damon. “Look who it is,” she drawled, wrinkling her nose as he stopped in front of her with a wry smile. “The princeling.”
“Ella,” Cassandra said calmly. “This is… this is the prince of Oswell.”
At first, Ella just stared at her, then she suddenly stumbled back, grabbed one of her high-heeled shoes, and flung it at Damon, shouting, “Stay away from me!” It nailed him, and he immediately fell to the ground. Ella grabbed Cassandra’s arm and tried pulling her away. “Don’t you know who he is?” she exclaimed.
“Calm down, Ella,” she said as softly as she could, resisting Ella’s efforts to drag her off. Damon struggled back to his feet using one of the tables, and Ella pulled off her other shoe. Damon held one hand up in surrender, his other hand covering his wounded face.
“Ella,” Cassandra said sharply, placing herself between them. Ella’s eyes were wide and panicked like that of a spooked horse, and Cassandra tried to maintain a steady, soothing voice. “Ella, relax. He’s not going to hurt anyone, okay? Just sit down…”
“He’s the Wolf!” Her voice was shaking, and her eyes were locked on Damon.
“I know, Ella, but just hear him out-“
“No way! Cassandra, have you gone mad? Did he make you mad, too?”
“Ella, please!” Cassandra could hear desperation in her voice that she hadn’t intended to be there. Ella froze, still poised to launch her shoe at Damon, yet her shoulders relaxed.
“What do you want to talk about?” she growled. Damon lowered his hand, and Cassandra saw a thin gash leading from his eye to his jaw. He winced at the blood on his hand, and Ella lifted her chin smugly. He met her gaze, his face darkening, yet remained silent and let Cassandra answer for him.
“He just wants to know what they’re saying in Ethaecia,” Cassandra said softly. “All we want to do is talk, okay?”
Without tearing her gaze from Damon, Ella lowered herself into a seat. Damon pulled on his jacket and grabbed Ella’s other shoe. He held it out to her, muttering, “I apologize for any blood you may find on that.” He pulled out a chair for Cassandra, then took a seat himself. Ella sat with painful propriety, glaring at Damon.
“First things first,” she said. “I think you killed those people.”
“Headed straight after the subject, are we now?” he observed.
“You’ve got that right. Now answer my questions or I’m going to make your night at this event miserable, got it?”
“Indeed.”
“Were you really crazy like everyone said?”
“Before or after my alleged killings?”
“Before.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “yet not in any way you may fathom.”
“Try me.”
“Even if I was the ‘crazy’ you describe, it does not mean that I would be driven to murder because of it.”
“So you were perfectly okay when you decided to go on a killing spree?” Ella scowled at him.
“I’m almost afraid to answer that question. It feels as though you are attempting to lure me into some trap.”
“Just answer my first question.”
His eyebrows rose, and he leaned back in his chair. “I thought that I would be the one here asking questions.”
“We all think you killed them,” Ella said shortly. “Now answer my question.”
He grinned. “As you wish. I was crazy because I was a boy, and all boys are crazy in their own right.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”
“Were you crazy after the killings? What about during? Why’d you kill them?”
“I beg of you, one question at a time.”
“Fine. Why did you kill those people?”
“I never said I killed them.”
“Did you?”
He glanced around the room, his eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid that I cannot answer such a question directly whether I plea of innocence or guilt, for innocence has but one answer, and guilt can have thousands. Even if I spoke my truth, it would be lost amongst the web of all that I may wish to say in the place of it.”
“Don’t you try to fancy-shmancy your way out of this, Prince Damon,” Ella growled. “Answer the question.”
“Yes.”
Ella and Cassandra stared at him, and he stared back at them. Both girls jumped to their feet and began to panic at the same time.
“Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Cassandra, what have you done?”
“I never thought he actually did it!” Cassandra shouted back. “Even if he did, I didn’t think he’d just say it!”
“Well, now we know he did do it! Do you know what this means? It means that the loveliest girl and her stupid friend are going to be found dead on the morrow!”
“Ella!”
“You dragged me into this, Cassandra! You better find a way out!”
“Will you stop that?”
They were both immediately silenced and turned to Damon, who was now standing, his jaw set. He waited a few moments, then continued.
“There is no need to over-react,” he said slowly, his voice low.
“No reason to over-react?” Ella echoed. “Are you crazy? No, forget I asked- you are crazy!”
“Please, Miss Ella, calm now. Allow me to explain-“
“There is no excuse for murder,” she hissed, “and you weren’t even convicted. You weren’t even punished.”
“Yes, I was,” he replied patiently.
“That’s not what I heard.”
His eyebrows rose. “I see. Thank you for that information.” His gaze turned towards Cassandra, and she instinctively took a step back. His face fell, yet he replaced it with a look of detachment. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
Cassandra swallowed, unable to reply. She desperately wanted to run, yet her feet might as well have been glued to the ground. Damon nodded.
“Would you like me to explain or would you rather run while you still can and tell everyone what I’ve told you?”
Ella immediately grabbed Cassandra’s arm, yet Cassandra couldn’t move.
No, she could move. She simply didn’t want to.
“Cassandra, let’s go,” Ella grumbled. “We need to leave. You heard what he said.
Cassandra pulled out her chair and took a seat. Damon smiled and sat across from her, and Ella threw her arms up.
“That’s it, Cassandra. I’m telling your father.”
“Telling him what? That I’m speaking with the prince of Oswell? Please, do.”
Ella took a deep breath and crossed her arms. “Fine. Throw yourself at the Wolf. I’m leaving.” With that, she swept off, clinging to her every shred of dignity.
Damon watched her go, his green eyes sparkling. When his eyes met Cassandra’s, however, his smile faded. “I have an explanation,” he said quickly.
“Not an excuse?”
“Not an excuse,” he agreed. “There is no excuse.”
“You’ve got that right.” It was unnerving, speaking with the man she knew to be the Wolf, to the man who admitted to committing those wretched murders without batting an eye, yet here she was.
“You said you were punished for it,” Cassandra stated, and he bobbed his head.
“I certainly did, and it was the truth.”
“If you were punished like you should have been, then you wouldn’t be at any celebration.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t say that.”
“I already did.”
He raised his chin. “The conviction was declared valid. The disapprobation chased after me in waves. The punishment was cruel. Trust me, Cassandra, I was castigated as decidedly necessary.”
“I’d expected you to be disowned.”
“As would I, yet misplaced pride made my father decide otherwise.”
“Why’d you do it? Why’d you kill those people?”
His gaze left hers, his green eyes growing distant as if to recall why he did such a thing. He finally found an answer.
“I can’t remember.”
Her jaw dropped, yet she quickly shut it. “You forget? What, did they do something as insignificant as step on your shoe? Are they really that unimportant to you?”
He blinked. “No, that’s not it.”
Her anger flared at how nonchalant he acted, at how unfathomable it was to take someone’s life and not even know why. She was just about to snap when he continued.
“Honestly, I can’t remember anything.”
She froze, and he eventually met her gaze. A killer never looked that innocent, not when they knew what they’ve done.
“You don’t remember?”
He shook his head.
“How?”
He shook his head again. She frowned.
“How much have you forgotten? Only the murders or-“
“I had forgotten the murders themselves, and all the events leading up to the murders are gone.”
When it seemed like he wasn’t about to say anything, Cassandra reached across the table and took his hands. He looked up at her, his eyebrows raised and his mouth forming an O.
“It’s okay, Damon,” she said softly, and he shook his head. “It is,” she insisted. He clenched his jaw and looked skywards, not seeming to notice as he held her hand tighter like it was the one thing grounding him. “It wasn’t okay,” he said. “What I did…”
Cassandra forced herself not to pull away, but he noticed her tension. He let go of her hands and leaned back dangerously far in his chair. He observed her reaction meticulously, and she refused to give him much of one.
“How did people find out?” she asked. He shrugged.
“I assume that you already know- my bloody clothes, I was gone the same time they were killed… I was also convinced that I killed them all, so everybody else became convinced.”
“What did they do about it?”
He looked past her, scowling. “My apologies, but I’d rather not say.”
She nodded. “Damon, I have one more question.”
His emerald eyes flicked towards her.
“Why did you tell me all this?”
Much to her surprise, he reached across the table and took her hands again. “Because you agreed to dance with the princeling.” He flashed a smile. “Also, you were patient with me after I snapped at you, and you were considering all the options when I asked that you listen to my story on the murders.”
She was wishing that she hadn’t heard the story, but she nodded.
“And one more thing, Cassandra,” he said, rising to his feet. “All of those murders were a myth. I never killed anybody. Those stories were merely rumors spread by the royal children of Ethaecia in order to shame Oswell. I was asked to act like I did it to test your reaction and see how easily I could convince someone who didn’t quite believe the stories that they were true. Please, forgive me. And my father? He thinks you’re lovely.”
She attempted to mask her shock, lifting her chin. “Who asked you to do such a thing?”
“My mother, and she is not someone to be questioned, seeing as she rarely says a word these days in her illness.”
“Nevertheless, I do not appreciate being tested like so, Damon,” she said, standing and turning away. “Besides, I’m from Ethaecia. I’m not supposed to like you.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that.” He appeared in front of her, smiling impishly. She glared at him.
“Your lies sounded true. I believed you lived them.” She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think I can trust you anymore, if I ever did.”
He laughed. “I understand. Perhaps we need a fresh start, and this time you can discard those rumored murders.” He bowed dramatically, holding out a hand to her. “Pleased to meet you, m’lady. I am Prince Damon Shores. And who might you be?”
She bit her lip, attempting not to laugh at his attempt to forge reconciliation. “Cassandra Preece.”
“May I trouble you to a dance, Miss Cassandra?”
“Depends. Will we begin a conversation with absolute honesty?”
“Of course.”
“Very well.” She took his hand, grinning as he led her back into the crowds of dancers masked by their empire’s name.
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