DEMON CRY

39.

Amara stared at her reflection, blankly as three maids attended to her- one was setting her hair into a bun and the other two were smoothening the wrinkles on her gown. She wore a beautiful navy blue gown that didn't show much skin, nevertheless, it looked gorgeous on her. The upper half was well-fitted and marked with intricate silver designs while the lower was voluminous and plain. The boat-shaped neck extended into blue sleeves at the end of which the silver pattern continued. 

A sharp pain exploded in her scalp bringing her back to the present. She shot the maid who was working on her hair, a cold look. The maid apologized profusely and Amara silenced her with a nod. 

Lately, she'd been feeling numb. 

'Lady Amara?' A masculine voice came from the other side of the door, 'It's time.'

She recognized the voice. It made her want to rumple the soft fabric of her dress, crush it, tear it. The voice belonged to William Wilshire- the pretend Prince Damien. 

The maids hurried through the final touches as her patience slipped. 

There was a time when she used to wonder why Queen Ravenna had become indifferent, in fact, she used to wonder how the Royals had become so cold. She wondered no more. It felt like life had been drained from her. 

When one of the maids opened the door, Prince Damien stood in his place, extending his hand toward her like a gentleman- but she knew better. It was Phoebe's mask of illusion that made Wilshire look like the Prince. 

Amara resisted the urge to fist her hands. She reminded herself that it wasn't his fault. All he was doing was following the King's order on Rowan's advice. They were the ones to blame, including the Queen because she stood by and did nothing. 

Her sandals clicked against the floor as she walked toward him. She summoned the best smile she could as she slid her hand in his. 

If Damien would've actually been there, she would've felt butterflies in her stomach and there would've been a smile plastered on her face- but William wasn't Damien. 

She felt nothing. 

'You look beautiful, Amara,' He complimented her. 

A white and hot flash of rage surged through her. How dare he address her as such?

She turned away, pretending to be shy. 

Another reason why the Royals were so cold- pretence. 

As they walked arm in arm toward the grand hall where they would overlook their subjects from a balcony- watch them enjoy the evening. 

If there was anything Amara knew for sure, it was that she wouldn't be able to survive close to another man who looked like her Damien. 

She simply couldn't. 

The rest of it was a blur of William trying to talk to her and her ignoring him. It was strange that she stood on the balcony, next to the Royals but didn't remember anything. All she could associate to at that time was numbness. 

When she returned to her room, she threw herself on her bed and cried her heart out. When she looked at the blurry cream walls, she thought of how many times Damien had meals with her, how they had laughed, how his beast had caressed her when she was recovering. 

She missed him. 

They weren't laughing or talking about silly things when they last talked. He had been forced to say those words and like a fool, she had believed them. 

Damien wasn't like the other Royals. He wasn't cold. He was gentle. A man who had faced so much, alone. 

She wouldn't let him down ever again, she promised. She would save him and if he would have her back, she would protect him with her life, keep him close to her heart... but he wouldn't, then she would understand and leave him be, taking the punishment with a good heart. 

It was around midnight when she wiped her tears and got to her feet. Without changing her clothes, she walked toward Damien's chambers.

She needed hope.

His room was empty. Dark shadows looming in every corner. The crescent moon that peaked inside his room his balcony was dim as if it were waiting for him to arrive. She sniffed as she shut the door behind her, holding back tears. 

The soft ruffle of fabric echoed in the empty room as she slid into his bed. She buried her face deeper into his pillows when she caught the faint scent of almond and mint that belonged to him. 

It put her mind at ease. 

A small smile graced her face as she fell into a deep sleep, dreaming about Damien. 

Her blissful state was interrupted by a familiar voice that asked her, 'What are you doing  here?' It was spoken harshly. 

She opened her eyes to find Damien''s face looming over hers, morphed into a scowl. A rush of panic flooded her sense before she realized that it was William and not Damien. Irritation sparked through her at the realization.

Gritting her teeth, 'I should ask you the same question!' She barked at him.

He frowned. 

Had she ever seen Damien frowning?

Damien doesn't frown. 

'It's my room.' 

She glared at him and sternly reminded him, 'You're not Damien!'

He rolled his eyes, 'I am to everyone here.' Then he commanded her, 'Leave.' 

Amara wanted to beat him but refrained herself from doing so. He smiled smugly as she rose from Damien's bed and got to her feet. She was about to leave when she grabbed a pillow from the bed and walked outside. 

Her actions startled him and she felt her anger abate. 

She stormed out of his room and made way to hers. Her thoughts were quiet for some odd reason but her heart paced, frantically. The door of her room was slightly ajar and there was no one stationed at the corridor. Cold and dreaded fear took over her as she walked. 

Someone was there. 

Upon entering her room, she found it empty and let out a sigh of relief. She locked herself inside. It did make her feel better but did not kill the uneasiness. She checked the balcony and her bathroom to make sure that there was no one hiding there. After that, she changed into comfortable clothes and prepared herself for sleep. 

When she raised the blanket, to slip inside, a crisp white paper fell.

Amara's eyes followed it till it landed on the floor. She stared at it in cold horror that made her believe that her head would explode. She heard her heart thumping in her head, it was booming, deafening- it was the evidence that someone had been there. 

I wish to see you in my chambers in the morrow after breakfast. Carry yourself with no hesitation. ~ Queen Ravenna.