The Cursed Kingdom

FOUR

~ HENRIK ~

The gold of his crown glimmered as the Cursed King stood.

My eyes quickly trailed around the titanic room, trying to absorb as much detail as possible in a little amount of time. I paused when I saw the glass ceiling displaying the starry night sky above, my mouth falling open with silent words of awe. The clouds were still orange and purple from the little sunlight left, causing it to look more like a painting than nature itself.

My eyes then moved onto the red wallpaper and paused again. It reminded me of blood and I quickly turned my head back to the male, scared of where else my thoughts would lead me if I stared any longer.

"Why didn't you tell me you were the king?" I questioned bitterly, holding back the urge to back away as he quickly approached me, an unusual gleam of determination in his eyes. My gaze lingered on the golden swirling designs along his lapels, collar, and cuffs, finding them beautiful against the black fabric.

"Because that would've stolen my fun," he retorted, grabbing my hand out of nowhere and making me gasp in surprise at the feeling of his calloused skin against the soft pads of my palm. "So jumpy," he said under his breath, however I had a feeling he had every intention for me to hear it.

Bringing up my right hand, he kissed my knuckle firmly with his otherworldly soft lips. While Jerium's had been as light and gentle as a feather, the king's kiss felt as if he was trying to leave a permanent impression—as if he hadn't already done so to my neck.

With my thoughts now drifting towards it, I took note of how the mark began tingling again, a subtle yet annoying itch that reminded me uncannily of how a fly would feel crawling along my skin.

"So," I began dryly and kept my face neutral as I stared at his closed eyelids, dark eyelashes fluttering against his sharp cheekbones, "do you urinate on everyone who visits your kingdom?"

I felt his deep, warm exhale on the back of my hand and his gold eyes with specs of green flickered open to look up at me, making my traitorous heart flutter. He straightened his back to his full height slowly, appearing amused by my serious expression, and released my hand, which felt strangely cold without his touch.

"You're never going to let that go, will you?" he said, quirking a brow. When I didn't relent, he sighed once more, this time in defeat. "No, I have never done that on a female before. Trees and vegetation alike, but never a person. Only you. Satisfied?"

"No," I responded dryly, his smirk angering me in a way I never thought possible. "You pissed on me like a mutt marking its territory, then proceeded to permanently mutilate me, and the only people I care about are dead because of your people. And you have the audacity to ask me if I'm 'satisfied?'"

His smirk lowered into a frown the more I spoke, lines between his two dark eyebrows appearing. "Perhaps we should sit," he said bitterly, in a way that wasn't a suggestion but rather a command. With a tanned hand that had a golden watch attached at the wrist, he motioned me to the chair that was placed to the right of his at the end of the table.

Although I always prided myself on possessing great table manners despite my humble upbringing, where I could count on one hand the amount of times I ate at a table as a child, I didn't acknowledge him when he pulled my seat back and pushed it in for me after I sat down. I barely looked at him when he plopped himself down in his own chair and rested his clenched fists on top of the table, clearly displeased by my silence and emotionless expression.

"You can get upset with me all you want," the king said, eyeing the side of my face, my hair, my eyes. I wondered what he saw that had him so perplexed. Although I knew I wasn't revolting, I didn't consider myself anything special to look at either. "However, my people are blameless."