16. Chapter 16- Nyx

Ilook at myself in the mirror, barely able to remember the last time I saw myself with white hair. It was before…no, it was after my escape. My hair was so short after he cut it all off. I could see my scalp in some areas. I had sat in front of a broken mirror in someone's attic for hours, looking at myself. It was at that moment, looking into the eyes of that fractured girl, that I had decided to become a beast that they would inevitably fear. The same beast that stares back at me now.

After everything I have been through, this castle is the last place where I expected to learn that evil is not as black and white as I initially thought. I used to believe all Keryth deserve death because they are unredeemable monsters. But I was wrong. Felix, Tia, and even Kaelin have repeatedly shown me that not everyone is out to get me and that I am not fighting this battle alone.

Which is precisely why I asked Tia to get me the compound to remove the dye. I ached to tell Felix everything while we sat in bed, but I knew if I showed him, then there wouldn't be any doubt. I will have to dye it back immediately, so HE won't be able to find me, and the King and Queen won't know what family I come from. I still don't understand how there is no record of me on the family tree. I should be thankful…but why would my father hide my existence?

The bedroom door opens and closes. I take in a steadying breath and straighten my spine for what is to come.

Please don't let him hate me for who I really am. This may have been a mistake. Maybe it's too soon. No! That's not true. Felix cares for me. And I …I care for him. It's not love by any means,but…I do care for him.

"Felix?" I walk into the bedroom and stop dead in my tracks.

It's not Felix.

"I knew it was you hiding behind the Prince at the ball. Did you believe that changing your hair alone would keep me from recognizing you? Come on, Alina, you are smarter than that." The male stalks forward, circling me like prey.

That name…Alina. It is my name. My true name. I haven't heard it in years. After being tortured and denied being spoken to for even longer, I had forgotten what it was. I had picked a new one once I knew how to proceed with my life.

"Your smell alone gives you away," he whispers against my neck. I was so distracted by hearing my name again that I allowed him to get close to me. Fucking rookie mistake!

"Maybe I wasn't hiding from YOU, Dominic," I say, finally finding my voice. "Maybe I was making you work for it." Fucking hell, I need a dagger. If I had my weapons, I could end this in a few shift motions.

"Were you looking for me, Princess?" I suppress a flinch as his finger slides down the curve of my neck.

"Yes," I offer truthfully. There is no reason to hide it.

"Does he know who you are?"

"No."

"Good. Because we can't have that; if he knows whose blood you carry, then he would ruin all of my plans." He stands before me once more, and I finally get a good look at the male who tortured me for most of my life.

He is tall and lean. His hair is long and black with thick silver bands throughout it. He may have been handsome once and maybe still is to some. But I believe his evil heart twisted his appearance a long time ago. Or perhaps that is just the hate in my heart speaking.

"What plans?"

"Tsk. Tsk. You don't really believe I would willingly share that with you, do you?" he laughs. And it grates on every nerve in my body.

"I had to try." I shrug.

"Good for you. It's strange seeing you with a backbone. But I am excited. Because that means I get to break it all over again," he growls.

"You can't touch me," I growl back, letting my mask slip so he can see the promise of death in my eyes.

"Awe, you actually think the Prince will save you. How cute." His taunts thicken the air and make it hard to breathe. But then I remember, I don't need saving.

I am death in the flesh. Keryth fear me. They call me the ghost because I slink in the night and steal the souls of their neighbors. They question if it is them I will come after next. I did that. I earned that! And this fool cannot take it away from me.

I walk over to my side of the bed, keeping him in my peripherals, and reach under my pillow for my stolen knife.

"Oh. Is that how we are going to do things? Fine. Let's play, Princess," he laughs darkly, probably trying to get beneath my skin. He is going to have to do better than that.

With practiced patience, I wait for him to make the first move. He rushes forward, bent at the waist, aiming for my legs. It is easy to sidestep him and push him from behind. He loses his footing, landing headfirst into the shelf between the two window seats. Books crash to the floor, and he catches himself before he falls. Pity.

I steady myself. His anger grows, making him more dangerous. His face reddens, veins pop across his forehead, and rushes me again. This time, I hold my ground and let him get his hands on me. The skin on my shoulder shreds under his nails, but I grit my teeth and stab him over and over again so fast that he barely has time to register what is happening.

But it doesn't even phase him. He leans forward and sinks his fangs into my neck. A scream of agony is ripped from my throat as my veins burn from my blood being forcibly taken. I clench my jaw and focus on what needs to be done. I slice upward, catching his throat, but not enough to do actual damage.

He pushes me away, holding his neck when he should be holding his gut, where blood pours and covers the floor. I smile at the sight, but wish it was his intestines falling at my feet instead. It's a good thing I can still make that happen.

It's my turn to rush him. I tackle him onto the table and it crumbles under our combined weight, leaving me on top of him. I stab him repeatedly, but to my horror, all he does is laugh. His arm flies outward and knocks me over. I slip in his blood, trying to get to my feet. It's useless; he is on top of me in seconds, flipping me over and sinking his fangs into me once again.

And I know that there is no getting up from this. He has me trapped and is stealing my strength. I lost my knife at some point, but I spot a spoon close to the bed. I reach as far as I can. My fingertips brush against it and slowly pull it closer to me. Once my fingers are fully wrapped around it, I stab the end into his ear. He roars out in pain, but then sinks his fangs in even deeper, taking my blood in gulps. So, with no other hope, I pull the spoon free and scratch into the floor, hoping my message is legible.

Shadows dance on the edge of my vision, and my limbs become impossibly heavy. And even as my heart shutters, I shed a tear, not for me, but for the Prince who will blame himself for my death. And I send up a silent prayer that it will not deter him from accomplishing all of his goals for this kingdom. He is the King, the people need. I just wish I could have seen it.