3. The Prince

Leila knew it was the prince who had come into the room. She recognized him right away, and this time, she was able to get a good look at him.

Although his thick, black hair appeared untrimmed, she was instantly struck by his elegant cleanliness and regal poise. He wore a neat, navy velvet jacket and black pants. Along with his perfectly pointed nose, his eyes were as dark as an abyss. The pressure of their eye contact was too much for her. She quickly broke her gaze and lowered her head.

The prince briefly glanced at Leila as he walked past her; he seemingly had no intention of speaking with her. Taking a thick stack of letters in his hand from the large ironwood table by the window, he started to read the documents one by one.

The prolonged silence gave Leila a small amount of confidence to peek at him again. The prince was a breathtakingly handsome young man, chiseled like a diamond. But she had never seen a more stern expression than his. He was the prince of the dragon kingdom, leader of the royal knights, and protector of King’s Harbor, after all. What could he possibly want from a girl like her?

A mild ray of sunlight penetrated a thick cloud and shone straight through the window. The room was illuminated with a tangerine glow. The prince’s shadow appeared on the carpeted floor at his side.

Shockingly, it was a phenomenal dragon’s head with rigid horns, with a thick serpentine neck and tucked wings. Leila felt her blood freeze. Her terror spread from her eyes throughout the rest of her body. Not even a second later, the prince suddenly stood up and stepped away from the sunlight. His shadow vanished. He briefly remained in the dark, then walked towards Leila.

“My name is Thorn.” He pulled out a chair, placed it in front of her and sat on it. “And yours?”

His stare was penetratingly sharp. Leila inched slightly further away from him, then whispered, “Leila.”

Silence fell over them.

Thorn looked at her bruises, shabby clothes, and bare feet. He knitted his perfectly-manicured brows. He then rested his elbows on his lap and softened his gaze, “Sorry about that knight from before. He’s been dealt with, and you won’t see him again.”

Leila nodded, embarrassed, thinking she was a fool to let a man take advantage of her like that.

“It’s not your fault,” Thorn said, as if reading her mind, “the blame is all on him.”

Leila kept her head low and played with the hem of her dress.

“Could you tell me about why you escaped?” Thorn asked, “I might be able to help you with that.”

Leila remained silent.

But the prince wasn’t done with his kind-hearted and thoughtful line of questioning—a rare occurrence for any who knew him. “I went to your home.”

Leila looked up, startled. Thorn hid a smile at the corner of his lips. “Don’t worry. I didn’t find anything. The house was empty. Your family must have fled.”

Tears instantly welled up in Leila’s eyes. The prince’s handsome face became a blur. Her aunt and uncle had chosen to give her up after all. They weren’t at all concerned with her whereabouts, instead running for their lives after being exposed for harboring a crossbreed in their home.

She felt a piercing pain in her heart. Before she escaped, she still had a home to live in, a semblance of a family to rely on. But now, she had nothing.

Thorn wanted to dry her tears, was afraid he might scare her. He pulled out a clean handkerchief and placed it gently on her laps. Her tears had made him nervous. He raked his fingers through his thick, dark hair and tried to think of something to say to make Leila feel better.

He glanced over the tray of food that was barely touched. Cutting a slice of strawberry cake and stabbing a small chunk with the tip of a golden fork, Thorn said lightly, “The baker in the kitchen is a chubby old man with a huge beard. He’s done a marvelous job keeping it perfect, as he did with this cake.”

Leila lifted her eyes to look at the tip of the fork. It had a spongy golden base layered with soft pink cream and ruby-red strawberry jam. She pursed her thin, soft lips and felt an unbearable hollowness in her stomach. Finally, the hunger had hit her.

Thorn gave her the fork along with the bite of cake, then dragged the table with food closer, “Eat. You’re too thin.”

Leila obeyed and started to eat.

The prince relaxed and crossed his long, muscular legs at the ankles. He then took a leather-bound book in his hands and pretended to read. Every now and then, he lifted his eyes from the page and peeked at Leila.

From the moment he returned to the garrison, he had sensed her presence; he knew she was terribly frightened, facing a dangerous threat. There was an invisible power that led him to the storage room. He kicked the door open and saw her right away. She wasn’t a standard beauty in a realm full of glistening dragons, but her soft face and lilac eyes were a rarity. The enigmatic connection between them was strong and powerful. Her scent was as fresh as crisp water in a flowing creek. He instantly knew she was his mate—an ancient connection existing before the disappearance of the dragon spirits. But there was something else in her, something mysterious and overpowering that sucked the air out of his lungs.

Leila clearly didn’t have a dragon spirit to sense all of the same complicated feelings as Thorn. She hadn’t detected the deep spiritual connection between them, except for perhaps a slight trace of familiarity.

She was almost done with the food and tentatively put the fork down. The prince could see that she had finished eating, and he put down his book as well. He poured a tankard of chilled milk for her, noticing that she didn’t drink anything.

Leila sipped the milk, then held the tankard in both hands on her lap. She quickly glanced at the prince sitting across from her.

He stared at her cherry-colored lips and pointed to his own.

Realizing there was traces of milk still lingering on her lips, Leila blushed and quickly licked it off with the tip of her tongue.

Thorn concealed a smile. “Do you have something to ask me?”

Leila finally looked at Thorn directly, then nodded. “Can I go back home?”

“Why?” Thorn asked, forlorn.

“It’s my home. Where else could I possibly stay?” Leila asked, confused about his thoughtless question.

Thorn repressed the answer he wanted to give back down his throat. Instead, he said, “It’s an empty house now. They took everything.”

“I will try to manage,” Leila said matter-of-factly.

Thorn pushed off the armrests onto his feet. His heart ached, imagining her sitting in that run-down little house. He couldn’t bear to let his mate stay any place he didn’t see fit. Even so, he tried to see the situation from Leila’s perspective. It would be too blunt to ask her to return to his palace with him, and he certainly didn’t want to frighten her. He would need a different strategy. After careful reflection, he walked over to the door, pulling it wide open and calling for Ben.

Somewhere far down the hallway, Leila heard Ben respond and run towards them.

Thorn looked at Leila with his full attention, once again wearing his usual icy expression. “You can go back, under one condition.”

Leila guessed that she had somehow angered the man before her. He didn’t express it directly, but she knew he was seconds away from exploding. She didn’t have the slightest idea about the reason behind his anger; she only wanted to go back to her aunt’s house and live a peaceful life. It had been an exhausting day, and she was desperate to lie down on her tiny bed and rest in her little room.

Ben stopped abruptly at the door. Thorn’s abrupt shouting almost caused his horse's brush to slip out of his skillful little hands. The prince rarely roared at him. He guessed it must be urgent, related to the girl.

“My prince?” Ben asked, looking back and forth between Leila and Thorn.

Thorn sighed deeply. “Pack some necessities. I’m going to the Grey Below.” He looked back at Leila, who was clearly startled and said, “I’m going with you. No objections.”