Chapter 2 – The Prince Who Doesn’t Smile
1481 Words
The grand hall was almost empty now, save for the faint echoes of servants cleaning up after the extravagant banquet.
Alina sat at the long table, poking the untouched slice of cake in front of her with a fork.
She could still hear the prince’s words from earlier.
“From now on… you belong to me.”
“Ano daw? Belong? As in property?!” she muttered under her breath, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Hello? Hindi ako parcel na ide-deliver mo lang sa bahay mo.”
Unfortunately for her, the man himself chose that moment to walk back in.
Prince Kael strode into the room with the kind of presence that made the air stand still. His broad shoulders carried an invisible weight, and those cold silver eyes didn’t leave her for a second.
“You didn’t eat,” he remarked flatly, his deep voice echoing in the quiet room.
She shrugged. “Maybe I’m just… not in the mood for poisoned cake?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “If I wanted to poison you, you wouldn’t be here talking.”
“Oh wow, comforting,” she shot back, leaning on her elbow. “Remind me again, are you always this charming, Your Highness?”
Something flickered in his gaze—was it amusement? No, too quick to tell.
Instead of answering, he walked to the far end of the table, poured himself a glass of wine, and sat down.
The silence stretched. Alina found herself tapping her fork against the plate just to fill the space.
“Why me?” she finally asked.
Prince Kael didn’t look at her. “Fate,” he said simply.
“Fate? That’s it? No explanation? Walang PowerPoint presentation? No tragic backstory?”
This time, she caught it—a ghost of a smirk. Barely there, but it was enough to make her blink.
He leaned back in his chair, studying her like she was some puzzle he hadn’t decided whether to solve or break.
“You’re… different,” he murmured.
Her eyes narrowed. “Different like… weird different, or different like… special?”
His lips curved slightly. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Somehow, that was not reassuring.
Alina slouched in her seat, letting her fork clink against the plate for the fifth time.
The sound seemed to irritate the prince—or maybe that was just her imagination.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Prince Kael finally set down his wineglass with a soft thud. “Must you be this noisy?”
She gave him an innocent look. “Noisy? Me? I’m just… expressing my boredom through art.”
“That’s not art,” he replied flatly.
“It could be. Modern art. Minimalist soundscape. Title: ‘Girl in Captivity Taps Her Way to Freedom.’”
For a moment, silence. Then—so quick she almost missed it—his lips twitched again.
Twice in one night? Alina thought. I’m breaking records here.
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “So, Prince Ice Cube—”
“Excuse me?” His brows rose.
“Well, you never smile. You’re… tall, intimidating, cold. So, Ice Cube. Unless you prefer ‘Your Frozen Majesty’?”
Kael gave her a long look, the kind that made her wonder if he was imagining her sudden and mysterious disappearance. “You speak too much.”
“I know,” she said cheerfully. “It’s one of my talents.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he stood and began walking toward her side of the table.
His footsteps echoed against the polished marble floor, slow and deliberate.
Each one made her pulse quicken—not that she’d ever admit it.
When he reached her, he didn’t sit. He simply placed his hands on the back of her chair, leaning slightly forward.
Alina froze. He was close enough that she could catch the faint scent of something crisp and clean—like rain on steel.
“You,” he said quietly, “are not afraid of me.”
She tilted her head. “Should I be?”
“Yes,” he said, without hesitation.
Her heart gave a tiny, traitorous skip. “Wow. And here I thought you were going to say something sweet.”
Kael’s gaze locked with hers, steady and unblinking. “Sweetness… is for people who can afford it.”
There was something in his tone—like he was speaking from experience. For a brief second, Alina wanted to ask what he meant, but pride got in the way.
Instead, she smirked. “You know, for someone who doesn’t smile, you sure have a lot of dramatic one-liners.”
That ghost of a smirk appeared again, just barely there before he straightened.
“Finish your cake,” he said. “We leave soon.”
Selena could barely feel her legs as she stepped forward, the marble floor echoing each hesitant footstep. Her heels—too high for her liking—clicked in a rhythm that betrayed her trembling. The gown she wore swished heavily around her ankles, a deep crimson that seemed to drink in the torchlight.
She was no longer inside her cramped apartment in Manila. No computer monitors flickering, no headset on her ear, no hum of air-conditioning and tired laughter of her night-shift colleagues.
No—this was a place she had never seen before.
What is happening to me?
The grand throne room of Veloria stretched endlessly, columns carved with silver vines rising up to a vaulted ceiling painted with a night sky. Nobles lined the walls, their gazes like daggers, their murmurs blending into a suffocating hum. She caught snippets—“Foreigner…”—“She’s unworthy…”—“The curse will take them both.”
At the far end of the hall, the man she was told was Prince Kael Dreven stood with his back to her. He wore black and gold, the fabric tailored sharply against his tall frame. His hair, the color of midnight, fell loosely over the back of his embroidered coat. And though she couldn’t see his face yet, there was something about his stillness—controlled, deliberate—that sent an odd shiver through her.
A herald’s voice boomed:
“Selena Cruz, bride by royal decree.”
The prince finally turned.
His eyes were the first thing she noticed—icy silver, like moonlight over a frozen lake. Beautiful, but utterly void of warmth. A thin scar ran from his temple to just below his cheekbone, and against his pale skin, it seemed almost too deliberate, like a mark from another world.
Selena’s breath caught. He’s… unreal.
The prince’s gaze swept over her once, then settled on her face. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Just… assessing.
“You’re late,” he said, his voice low, velvety, but edged with steel.
Selena opened her mouth, panic threatening to choke her. “I—”
But before she could say more, Kael stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking. He leaned in just enough for only her to hear.
“Play the part, stranger. For both our sakes.”
Her pulse spiked. Stranger? Did he know she wasn’t from this world?
The High Priest stepped forward, an ornate book in his hands. “We are gathered to bind Prince Kael Dreven and Lady Selena Cruz in matrimony under the eyes of the Gods of Veloria.”
Selena’s mind spun. She wanted to scream, to ask what was going on, to refuse this marriage—but the memory of the cold, emotionless voice from earlier still echoed in her mind: Marry him… or die tonight.
Her hands were trembling when Kael took one in his. His palm was warm—startlingly so—but beneath that warmth was a strange, rhythmic pulse. She glanced down and froze.
Under the cuff of his sleeve, glowing faintly against his skin, was a mark—crimson and alive, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Selena’s lips parted in shock, but before she could react, Kael tightened his grip slightly, warning her without words: Don’t speak.
The vows began.
She barely heard them, her mind distracted by the strange sensation creeping up her arm. His touch was spreading warmth into her, but it wasn’t comforting—it was like being drawn into something ancient and dangerous.
When the priest commanded them to seal the vow with a kiss, Selena’s heart pounded in protest. Kael leaned forward, not touching his lips to hers, but close enough for the crowd to believe. His breath brushed her ear.
“After tonight,” he murmured, “you’ll understand why they call this union cursed.”
The hall erupted in applause as the ceremony ended.
But as the nobles clapped, Selena felt it—a whisper at the back of her mind, deep and inhuman.
Welcome, bride… to the darkness.
Her knees nearly buckled.
- Writer
