Heartless

❆ Fifteen ❆

Fifteen

My heart pounded against the base of my throat.

    An empty plate sat before me and I began to regret eating it so fast; my stomach knotted in the tense silence. I glanced at the empty chairs surrounding me, then at the doors. Where had he gone? I thrummed my fingers anxiously against the obsidian table.

    A great boom echoed throughout the dining hall. I nearly jumped from my chair at the sight of him covering the distance between us in long, powerful strides. He held a hand behind his back and I craned my head to see what he was carrying. "Don't be afraid," he said as he stood before me. I leaned forward in my seat at his words.

    "Why would I—"

    My question was forced back into my chest as he lifted his hand from behind him. His fingers gripped the dark green stem and let a crimson rose fall onto the table.

    The air left my lungs as if he'd punched me. My nerves were set ablaze by the sight of it, my heart screaming inside me. I dug my nails into the armrests and pushed my back flush against the chair. It groaned underneath me. I shoved myself away from the table.

    "Adaira." His hands gripped onto my arms and held me in place, fingers tightening around me. He gave my shoulders a slight shake until I met his worried eyes. "You wanted answers. This is one of them." He stared at the rose. The bringer of death.

    Yes, but not this way, I wanted to scream. A shaky breath escaped my lips. I turned to stare at the table again. Mama, Hendric— would I be next? The thought made my body tremble. "Get it away from me."

    He sighed, but not in defeat. I caught the frown pulling at his features. His hands stroked the soft fabric that covered my arms in soothing circles. I felt my pulse ease and settle into a less frightened rhythm. He guided me away and left to pick it up in his hands, leaning on the edge of the table as he picked at the dark petals and black thorns. One by one he snapped off the pricks and let them fall to the floor. A familiar red liquid began to ooze from the wounds. I swallowed. Blood. "Ask your questions," he commanded, intent on plucking each thorn from its body.

    Where do I begin?

    I moved to the opposite side, keeping my eyes locked on the hellish flower, and sat on the arm of his throne. His gaze remained on the deadly thing. Blood stained the tips of his fingers. "How can you grow those things after everything they've done?"

    He caressed a limp petal, frowning as it fell. I lifted my feet from the ground and moved to crouch on the chair. "I used to love them. They were rare, beautiful things that somehow thrived on the mountainside. They were resilient to the cold." Another petal floated onto the floor. A thin puddle of crimson spilled from the tear down its center. I swallowed. "Now I can't get rid of them even if I wanted to. They stay as long as I do." He ripped off another and crushed it in his palm. There was a hidden anger in the way he touched it. It had looked so loving when he held it at first, but now I could see the hate burning in his eyes and the way he rubbed the flower so roughly. "Next question." He flung the naked rose back onto the table and wiped his hands on a napkin.

    My skin crawled at being so close to the thing that had killed half my village, nearly half my family. "How are you not sick?"

    His lips pulled into a dark smirk. "Not everything is as it seems, Adaira. I die a bit every day because of those things."

    "Then why don't you burn them?"

    "If they die..." His voice fell away. He caught himself and shook his head. "They're part of my curse. If they all die, so do we."