Dark Love

B2 P61

The palace lit up the night skies to the distance. Blurring out the existence of the very stars and moons that resigned. Prince Svenneth could relate, he never felt more insignificant then he did just then. In his own palace hosting his own betrothal ball to a witch he hadn't yet met.

Lighting flashed and thunder rang out across the night skies. The weather matched his mood in more ways then one. It reminded him of another night, not so long ago when the heavens had been as mad at the world as this. His mood had matched then too. Could it be something to do with his getting married? A warning from the God's they no longer believed in to stay the hell away from the matrimonial noose.

He should have heeded that warning the first time. A flash of honey green eyes and thick dark hair dominered his vision. Saera.

"Enjoying yourself, my darling?"

Sven's dark glare was unchanged as he turned away from purveying the night skies to direct his stare at his mother.

Her taunt was not appreciated. She knew he didn't want this. She knew and was forcing it upon him regardless. "Are you asking me to hate you?" He asked finally, not understanding her need to antagonise him at a time like this.

But his own taunt was received with nothing more than a raised brow reminiscent of a mother tolerating a son throwing a tantrum.

Sven sighed as he turned to follow his mother's gaze now trained on the over crowded ball room. But Sven saw none of the pomp, none of the glitter and glamour meant to rouse and stun the senses of a prince into mindless submission and instead he found his gaze drawn sharply to a darkened corner. Possibly the only darkened corner in this vast brightly lit ballroom.

The girl was slender in frame, adorned in black soft suede that shimmered subtly as it draped over her perfect figure in such an alluring way that set him on edge and his fingers trembling with an urgent need to run his hands all over her. His gaze did what his hands could not. What the distance between them allowed not, it roved over every riveting inch of her body. Her very familiar  body. His heart moved to thud sharply in his chest. The pain a welcome distraction allowing him to gather himself in time when his mother threw a sharp look his way.

She saw nothing but bland indifference in his face and dropped a heavy sigh of her own.

"It has to be someone. Anyone. And tonight." His mother gave him a hard stare before moving off to rejoin the crowd. It was all he could do to passively hold it, when his very being demanded he stride off to Saera's side immediately.

He gave the disappearing back of his mother being swallowed up in the crowd two heart beats and then he was off striding into the crowd only in the opposite direction. A beacon in black pulling him towards her like an oasis in the desert to the parched.

The crowd parted around him, reading the threat in his advance for what it was. Sheer determination to not be discussed from his path. Few brave or desperate souls tried to intervene, no doubt to try their luck in snagging his attention but he simply shoved on past, ruthlessly ignoring everyone around him. His focus singular.

And then not, as woman he was drawn to turned away from his stare to instead focus her attention on a stranger. A dark haired mage. An assassin. The assassin.

And suddenly his attention was no longer centred on his recalcitrant wife. It was now fixed on the man beside standing beside her... holding her hand.