A fresh breeze sweeps through it, carrying the scent of fresh grass and roses, and spreading a chill along my skin.
Curiosity piqued; I approach cautiously. The door creaks open at my touch to reveal a narrow, winding staircase. My heart leaps into my throat. Could this be it? Could the Ember be hidden away in some secret hideaway with the rest of my father’s art?
Excitement wars with trepidation as I climb, the stairs steep and uneven beneath my feet.
Finally, I emerge onto a small balcony, the night sky stretching out above me in an endless expanse of stars. The moon hangs low and full, casting a silvery glow over the scene.
And there, leaning against the railing with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips is Prince Charming himself. The neon green earbuds he wears are a striking contrast to everything else in this place.
He turns at my approach, eyes widening in surprise. The shadows cast dark swaths over parts of his face, concealing half of his expression. His white shirt is unbuttoned, exposingink and muscle. The sleeves are rolled up, revealing the strong tendons of his forearms.
Pulling out an earbud, he says. “Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, my dark princess.” Despite his teasing words, he doesn’t smile.
I freeze, my mind racing.
But as he takes a drag of his cigarette, the tip flaring orange in the darkness, I realize that he seems just as taken aback by my presence as I am by his.
“I couldn't sleep,” I say by way of explanation, moving to join him at the railing. The cool night air is a balm against my flushed skin, helping to clear my head as I scan the landscape. The dark crashing waves violently hit the cliffs and somewhere inside me.
Charming nods, blowing out a stream of smoke. “I know the feeling. These walls can be suffocating at times.”
There's a weariness in his voice that catches me off guard. In this moment, he seems almost. . . human. Relatable, even.
“Why do I get the sense that there's more to your restlessness?” His gaze pierces as it meets mine.
I look away, my fingers gripping the railing. Can I trust him with the truth? Can I afford not to, if I want to find the Ember?
“You’re not supposed to have that here,” I gesture to his earbuds, pointing out the obvious.
Kai pulls a small brick from his pocket, it fits in the palm of his hand. An mp3 player.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve “become quite the smuggler over the years.”
“Oh,” I breathe as he shifts into a ray of silver moonlight.
Kai’s face is shades of black and blue, his lip is split again, and the left cheek is swollen.
Tilting his head down to look at the player in his palm, he says, “Thought I’d come drown out all my angst in some music for a while. You’ve somehow found my secret hideoutspot, though I shouldn’t be surprised. You manage to get into all types of places I’ve never imagined.” The last sentence is a low, thoughtful murmur and I wonder if he means Midnight or something else.
“Your father?”
Fingers curl around the small music player. I watch his Adam’s apple do that slow long bob down then up again, whenever he seems to be holding onto a particularly intense emotion.
“He didn’t care for myattitudetoday.” He flicks the ash off his cigarette, enunciating his words more sharply than usual. “I still haven’t learned how to act like a Charming. Though it seems you would think otherwise.”
It’s the first time he hasn’t lied.
His father is the fucker who has been abusing Kai.
I could ask why he doesn’t admit it, but I don’t need to.
Why dwell on what you can’t change? When your pain becomes so constant, always expected, you don’t look to invite more people inside your situation.
I understand. I understand all too well.
“Why are you up here? Why don’t you go have some. . . blood and heal what he’s done to you.”
The moonlight casts a slice of light across Kaison’s eyes, and they are suddenly alight with rage. “I don’t want to forget just yet. And I don’t particularly care for blood.”
