The Witch's Cursed Daughter

24. Romile's Past: II

Time stood still as the princess grinned, an angelic stare only the most innocent could give, yet Romile felt the pressure of a wild beast.

"Princess," he sighed while gently trying to free his arm, "I must decline; I apologise."

The second prince watched as Romile tried to negotiate the princess's grip. The guards that had accompanied her were becoming tenser, and the atmosphere in the sunlit room grew darker.

"Romile," the second prince called, "you may go."

Romile frowned; the second prince must understand what would happen if he were left alone with the princess's guards. "But Your Highness..." Before he could finish, a confident voice countered him.

"I will be fine. As the Princess said, I have these men to accompany me." As the second prince smiled, Romile's body went stiff. The prince's gaze forced Romile's blood to run cold, an icy glare that influenced him with absolute authority. As Romile halted his resistance, the tug of the princess pulled him away once again.

"Thank you, little brother," she cheered. Unwillingly trudging away, clutched by the princess, Romile sent a final glance over his shoulder. He was astonished to see the second prince smiling for the first time since their acquaintance, and as he did, the princess's guards began to close in.

Escaping into the outdoors through a small entrance that Romile had never noticed before, the princess smiled as she walked. Her elegance and countenance radiated the dignity of the royal family, something that the second prince had not done once since meeting him. Romile's attention was quickly returned inside the palace as the unmistakable clang of blades sounded, along with shouts and threats.

"Your Highness!" Romile called, placing his hand on the hilt of his embellished Blade Master's sword, gifted to him by the king himself.

Before he could draw it, the world went black; Romile could not feel nor cast his aura, not even the taste of the air registered to him. It was as if he merely existed in a void. Fear began to slither into his heart, having never faced an enemy he could not comprehend. He could not tell how long he spent in that state, but once the darkness lifted, he found himself in a lightly decorated room without windows.

Lying on a bed far from the door, he found himself alone. Surveying his surroundings, he noticed a breeze, yet no obvious crevasse for one to exist. The furniture was simple yet stylish with engraving on the handles and legs. Yet, Romile's senses screamed as he noticed on closer inspection that they markings were not engravings but scratches formed by nails and teeth. The room reeked of blood.

After a lot of clicking and jingling, the door opened, and the princess skipped in. Her outfit had changed, now despite being eleven years old, she looked no older than the second prince.

"Are you awake, Romile?" As she advanced towards him, Romile instinctively felt his hip for weapons. Hurt painted on the princess's face; she said, "I'm sorry, but you were about to run off and leave me, I would have been very sad. I think we're going to be good friends."

"Princess..." Romile began.

Holding up a dainty finger, the princess shook her head lightly, closing her large green eyes, "Illea, please."

"Princess, I need to return to His Highness."

Without warning, pain rushed through Romile's body, forcing him to double over. There were no guards in the room and no weapons in sight. Confused, he anchored himself in a sitting position, glaring around the room.

Smiling kindly, the princess reached out to him, "Illea."

Avoiding her hand Romile pursed his lips, "Prin..."

Much like before, Romile was wracked in agony as pain with no description sounded from all over his body. It lasted longer than the previous attack and left him feeling drained. Romile's mind flew through possibilities. Perhaps an Imperial Mage? But there was no one in the room unless they were a master at hiding their presence and the princess was not capable of such advanced magic.

As Romile's thoughts raced, the princess patted his rusty-coloured hair, saying, "Illea." Unable to respond due to a combination of exhaustion and leftover pain, Romile allowed his breath to sound loudly, as though he did not care what she wanted. Standing back, the princess knotted her eyebrows neatly before simpering, "I'll come back later. I hope you'll feel closer to me then."

As she left the room, Romile could feel himself returning to the darkness, but he wasn't afraid this time. He yearned for the senseless peace that could take his pain.