The Cold Prince

18

Word Count: 2224

~Avila

My bedroom door slamming open has me shocked out of my sleep.

"Quick, get up."

It's Crimson, only the edges of her figure visible in the darkness. It must be late. I swear I only fell asleep a few hours ago, although my delirious mind is still struggling to comprehend what is going on.

Crimson's hands are shaking my arm, tugging me from the bed. I stumble out, the covers winding around my legs, nearly sending me falling over.

"What time is it?" I grumble, rubbing my hand down my face.

"Shh. Follow me." She pulls at my arm, her filed nails digging into my bicep.

I halt, frowning. My mind isn't entirely capable of figuring out what's going on right now, but I know that were we in danger, it would have been a guard coming in to usher me out.

So what's Crimson doing here?

"Do I need to change?" I ask croakily.

"No. Hurry."

My feet stumble over each other as I'm dragged from the room, the biting cold of the night air seizing my bare arms.

"What's going on?" I ask. The hallways is lit, allowing me to see my mother dressed as she normally is, without a single hair out of place on her head.

"Don't ask questions. This must be done."

She takes me downstairs, a hardened look of determination on her face that has unease digging into the nauseated stomach. Being woken so abruptly has me whirling, and her lack of supplied information is only adding to the confusion.

We wind through the hallways to the western wing of the house, which I haven't explored that thoroughly. It's where my father conducts business while he is here, apparently.

As we enter his office, it's immediately clear that my mother has converted this into a den used for...I have no idea.

There are four men standing around a table, picking at various jars and containers. Some are filled with dried herbs, others with undistinguishable liquid. Scattered amongst the jars are books, dried branches, pale white animal bones and many other strange things.

"What-"

"Sit on this chair and don't move." Crimson pulls out a chair from behind me, pulling me down by my shoulders.

"What's going on?" This doesn't feel right.

The four men exchange glances before continuing to pick through the items like I'm not even there. They look far too ominous to be here for an innocent reason, and Crimson is in on it.

"There are some old friends of mine." My mother steps around me so I can see her. "It won't hurt, they are simply checking for dark magic."

My eyes flare wide.

"What do you mean by dark magic?"

I still haven't even discovered what dark magic means to these people. No one seems willing to explain it to me compressively, which I now think is for a very specific reason.

"This is bringing us one step closer to ascertaining what happened to bring you back to us." Crimson reaches out, brushing my hair behind my ear tenderly.

I flinch back, scowling at her, and then one of the men who turn around, a bottle of pale white liquid and a knife in their hand.

"What are you going to do to me?" I contemplate running for the door, but I'm not sure where I can go exactly. Who knows who else is involved in this.