A knock at the door brought out my sarcasm. “We sure are busy today,” I mumbled, turning around, ready to greet the next visitor.

Talbott walked through the door, in a smart, pressed black collared shirt and black dress pants. His black hair was slicked back, away from his face and his olive-toned skin seemed darker than usual, as if he were spending a lot of time in the sun. His almost black eyes immediately found mine and squinted into a bizarre compassion before searching out Kiran's and bowing respectfully. When he stood straight again, he shook his head negatively and Kiran's shoulders slumped immediately.

“You'd better pray for mercy,” Kiran hissed, looking over his shoulder at me. His eyes hardened and his jaw tightened. I was not afraid of death, in fact I wished for it, but between his posture and his tone I gulped in fear.

“I'm not afraid,” I tried, but my voice was weak and shaky. I straightened and cleared my throat before continuing, “I'm not afraid of your father, or anything you can do to me.”

“Oh yes,” Kiran snarled, and then moved toward me. He stopped just inches from my face, his hands trembling at his side and his eyes narrowed slits of hatred. “We all know just how unafraid you truly are. But Eden, not everything is about you! Not everything in the world revolves solely around you and your fickle emotions! They are my people too, and I will be damned before I let you hurt even one of them!”

“Hurt them? What are you....?” I stuttered, confused by his angry accusations. But before I could form a full sentence, there was another knock on the door.

Kiran stared at me for a moment longer, finding his composure and tugging at the collar of his charcoal dress shirt. He nodded his head, while turning around and Talbott opened the door he still stood next to.

A Titan Guard, I remembered, was part of Lucan's personal entourage, walked into the room dressed in the standard Titan uniform when there was nothing happening in the castle, a black polo and black dress pants. He glanced at me for a moment, his eyes registering shock first and then snide amusement.

“The King requests the honor of your presence immediately.” His consonants were crisply clipped and he bowed respectfully to Kiran while speaking.

“All right,” Kiran grumbled, stepping away from me and nodding his head for Talbott to follow.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” the Guard carefully spoke again, “The King would like to see the prince and the prisoner as well.”

“Then I will need a few minutes. You can tell him we will be there shortly.” Kiran cracked his neck and waited for the Guard to remove himself from the room before he moved again. “Talbott, Sebastian, please go entertain my father until Eden and I arrive.”

“Kiran, what are you going to do?” Sebastian asked, and the anxiety in his voice sent shivers down my spine.

“Bastian, buy us some time,” Kiran commanded and without another word Sebastian and Talbott left the room.

The door closed with finality behind Sebastian and Talbott. A feeling worse than death, worse than exhaustion washed over me, a horrifying foreboding feeling that I could not place. I fidgeted with my black tank top, clothes that Kiran provided, and found myself looking everywhere but in his direction.

“I can't hide you anymore, you'll need to change,” Kiran commented with gravity. He walked over to the closet that was meant for me and rifled through some outfits before tossing a knee-length gray boat-neck dress over to me. The dress was sleeveless, but modest and tied around the waist with a chunky black belt. I would match Kiran and I wondered if he chose this dress on purpose or just grabbed the first one he saw.

I shut myself in the bathroom without arguing and changed quickly. Makeup lay on the counter that had been there since I moved in. Assuming it was meant for Seraphina, I had abstained from using it for that very reason until now. I quickly worked at my face, fumbling with the product and smudging my eyeliner, but eventually I came out looking less tired and more put together. I rubbed some foundation on my glowing neck tattoo, but it did little to dim the radiant blue. My hair, an impossible mess of curls, hung wild and untamed, so I twirled it into a low, side ponytail covering the mark and pinned the loose curls away from my face. I looked more like Kiran's secretary than his future bride, but at least Lucan wouldn't assume I just woke from a coma.

I opened the door of the bathroom to find Kiran staring out the window, his jaw clenched and his arms crossed pensively. He turned at the sound of the door and paused to take me in. His expression changed. Somehow his eyes were impossibly harder and his mouth turned into a worried thin line, as if my outward transformation would never satisfy him.

I looked away from him, feeling stupid and vain for wanting his approval. It didn't matter what I looked like or how I felt; my outcome would be the same, my fate surely already decided.

“I'm ready,” I mumbled. Suddenly nervous, I straightened my dress out with my hands and walked toward the door.

Wait,” he commanded and I obeyed.

I leaned back against a bare wall, while he crossed the room. He stood a foot away from me for a few minutes, staring at me curiously as if waiting for something to happen or thinking something very important through. I grew awkward with the silence, and was struggling to figure out something sarcastic to say when he startled me, closing the distance between us and pressing both of his hands tightly against my arms.

Before I could move away, his magic built in his veins and I instinctively knew he would release it against me. Too nervous to react, I stayed in his arms, a limp ragdoll against his intensity. His magic pressed against me ardently demanding mine respond. Even with my mortal blood, I could feel the force of his magic rushing around me, weighing me down and crushing me in its stringent grasp.

When he finally relinquished his hold, I stumbled sideways, gasping for breath. I was dizzy and unbalanced, not from the power of his strong grasp or uncharacteristic closeness, but from the suppressing hold of his magic desperately searching my nonexistent energy out.

Kiran brushed his hands together, as if touching me were a disgusting act. “You didn't fight me.”

“How could I?” I panted. “You're magic was trying to kill me!” I couldn't help but accuse him, realizing that I should have fought back, even against his oppressive magic.

“No, it wasn't. I was.... I was trying to give it to you. I'm sorry if I hurt you,” he mumbled apologetically.

“It doesn't work like that! You can't give your magic to someone, they have to take it! And you can only take magic if you already have magic. Unless it was yours to begin with, then you can take it back, but only then!” I exclaimed, still breathless.

“I know that!” he snapped, turning from me. “But I had to try something!”

He opened the door and held it for me, impatiently tapping his foot until I walked through it. It was the first time I had been out into the hallway in over a month and I was very surprised to see not only the entire hallway, but the stairwell down to the main floor of the castle, lined with Titan Guards. Apparently, I was not as trusted as my solitary confinement would suggest.

“You should never have come. Avalon and I had a plan,” Kiran whispered harshly as we approached the throne room.

“Kiran, I'm not afraid of death,” I repeated simply, assuming he meant the sacrifice of my brother on what should have been Kiran's wedding day with Seraphina.

“Eden, when are you going to understand that you are not the one who will have to face death?” he growled.

I opened my mouth to question him, but we were already through the double brass doors of the throne room and face to face with his father, the king.

Chapter Two

Lucan rose from his throne as soon as we entered the stately room. His red velvet robes flared out behind him and his extravagant, golden crown sat tilted on his head like always. His closely-cropped goatee twitched with anger, but what concerned me most was the steely, ice cold glare his eyes had formed, their dark blue penetrating through me as if holding his stare for much longer would shatter me into a million pieces.

His wife, seated next to him, rose too. Her delicate mouth turned downward in a concerned frown and her hands, gripped tightly together, shook ever so slightly. Her dark, auburn hair fell over her shoulders and around her face in a way that reminded me of my mother. I stopped for a moment, taken back by the similarity between the two women.

Queen Analisa was very pretty; objectively I couldn't say if she was equal to my mother, but still she was strikingly beautiful. However, she definitely lacked the independent spirit that Delia possessed, the quiet determination that radiated from her. Analisa was reserved, and submissive, hardly making herself known at all. She stayed loyally by Lucan's side, an accessory to his crown and nothing more.

I stood still for a moment longer, missing my mother and working hard to find my composure. I was halfway to Lucan and, even without acknowledging him, I could feel his hateful eyes on me. Kiran took the opportunity to step in front of me and bow to his father, clearing his throat suggestively so that I would follow suit.

I didn't.

“You wicked child!” Lucan shouted, breaking the tense silence.

“Father, please,” Kiran started, but Lucan cut him off with a wave of his hand.

Lucan rushed at me, down the stairs from his royal seat. He pushed Kiran out of the way and stood in front of me before I could flinch. His angry hand closed tightly around my throat and he picked me aggressively off the ground as if I weighed nothing. His hand, rough around my neck, felt like it could snap me in half with only a little more pressure. He tightened his iron grip, his strong fingers pressing themselves cruelly against my skin, leaving long, thin bruises. My eyes fluttered, my vision blurred and to the sound of a man screaming something incoherent I lost consciousness.

----

My head pounded as if it were being banged violently against a wall and the sound of shouting did nothing to alleviate the migraine. I brought my hand to my ear hoping to drown out the sound, but even the touch of my own skin sent me reeling in agony.

Slowly the memories came back, the events that led to the blackout. Lucan with his hand around my throat, closing off the oxygen I needed so vitally without magic to stay alive. I pulled my knees to my chest, realizing I was on the ground, my head on something soft, while my body shivered against the cool, hard stone floor.

The more awake I became, the more my head throbbed, a searing pain demanding my attention on the back of my head. My head swam, nauseous and dizzy. I wanted desperately to open my eyes and ask those in the room to keep it down, but it was all I could do to keep from vomiting. I moved my hand to my neck where it came away sticky and soaked with hot blood.

“Careful,” a soothing voice warned me, taking my soiled hand and wiping it clean.

I rolled over, daring to open my eyes and recognized Sebastian. He held me in his lap, gently stroking my hair away from my forehead. I winced from the pain even the dim light of this throne room glared into my sensitive eyes. I gasped; it was an uncontrollable sound that escaped my lips from sheer agony before I could think through a reaction.

The room immediately fell silent. Even with my eyes shut tight, I could feel the focus of the room shift to me. I dared not move from Sebastian's care and not just out of fear of another one of Lucan's tantrums. He had clearly thrown me once I blacked out and either the wall or the floor caught my poor head, splitting it open and cursing me with this sickening pain. What was it about this room and me getting thrown around?