Chapter 31

Ron's lungs burned for air and he grabbed Zedekiel's hand, exuding all his strength to free his neck but it was impossible. Zedekiel's hand was immovable. Like a mountain.

The Prince screamed in his heart. 'It wasn't a dream!'

Zedekiel was furious. He couldn't understand why the masked dancer's scent filled Ron's room. In fact, at that very moment, it was stronger than ever! And with Ron before him, with his nose right near Ron's neck, he knew... he definitely knew that Ron was the masked dancer but he didn't want to believe it.

How? How could it be this annoying Prince? How did the Prince know their sacred dance? Just how?

But deep down, deep deep down, the question King Zedekiel burned to ask, was, Why did Ron ask to dance with him?

He could have asked for any other wish.

Why dance? And with him?

Zedekiel felt the neck in his hold go limp and he panicked. He quickly released Ron and Ron started to cough violently. He grabbed the sheets and covered his body tightly then scurried to the far end of the bed. Far away from Zedekiel, where he coughed and wheezed, trying to get air into his starved lungs.

When Ron noticed Zedekiel wasn't going to let him go, he decided to play dead. He was glad that it got him out of the deadly situation. After stabilizing his breathing, he pinned a fierce glare at Zedekiel.

The King felt his heart skip a beat.

Ron felt very wronged. This was the third time his beloved was trying to kill him. He feared that if this went on, he and Zedekiel will never unite. "Do you hate me that much, your Majesty?" he asked. His voice was hoarse and his throat hurt. "Do you hate me so much that you'll sneak into my room in the middle of the night and try to kill me?!"

Zedekiel wanted to argue but he realised he was the wrong one. How can be tell his future brother in law that he was looking for the masked dancer?

"What did I do to you, your Majesty? I get that you hate Ashenmores for a reason but whatever was done must have been by our forefathers. As far as I know, we never knew this place existed until you came to ask for my sister's hand. Why blame us for what we didn't do?"

At this point, Ron's eyes were filled with tears which blurred his vision so he couldn't see the King properly.

The more Ron spoke, the more Zedekiel's heart tightened. He knew the current generation of Ashenmores had nothing to do with his father and brother's death but, they still shared blood. The blood of murderers run through Ron's veins. Dirty blood. He wanted to get rid of it. He wanted revenge but... but when he stared at Ron, he felt something, something strange.

The bewitching image of Ron stretching on the bed came before his eyes and he froze. Why was he thinking of that now?

Suddenly, he smelt blood. His eyes landed sharply on Ron's arm and he saw that it was bleeding. Ron noticed that Zedekiel was distracted and so, he followed his line of view to find that he had reopened his wound. The pain hit him and he hissed. Blood had already stained the sheets.

The Prince didn't know what to do. The physical pain coupled with the one in his heart was too much to bear. He felt the bed dip then realised Zedekiel was climbing the bed. He tensed, thinking the King wanted to finish what he started but as he got closer, Ron realised the King was just staring at the wound, as if in a daze.

To Ron's surprise, Zedekiel leaned down and gathered him in his arms. He wrapped the sheets properly around Ron then carried him to the edge of the bed where some bandages and a few bottles of ointments were placed on a table. They were supposed to be used tomorrow but since he had caused Ron's injury to reopen, he'd have to use them and provide more later.

Prince Ron didn't understand what was happening. One minute he was scared to death by the King and the other, he was in the King's arms. What the hell was going on? He wanted an explanation!

But Ron knew that his fate wasn't in his hands, but in the hands of the creator of this world so he could only figure things out himself.

The Prince was carefully placed on the King's lap and tenderly, Zedekiel took Ron's injured arm, peeling off the soiled bandages as gently as he could so as not to cause Ron pain. Then he proceeded to wipe the blood, apply a healing balm then rewrap the wound with fresh bandages.

Ron stared at the King's face all the while. Zedekiel looked even more handsome having an expression other than a blank cold one on his face. He actually looked concerned and that melted the Prince's heart.

He then remembered. Didn't he promise to fight for his love no matter what? Didn't he decide to compete for the King's heart and emerge victorious? Didn't he decide to be the wife instead of the brother in law? Then why was he sad and angry a while ago?

No. The fight was still on. He would not give up even if his beloved choked him ten thousand times! He will show his sincerity and win the King's heart!

Prince Ron gazed at Zedekiel's handsome face, his clear violet eyes, framed by long silvery lashes, just like his long silver hair. Ron wished he could touch those locks to know the texture. He wished he could trace the King's straight nose with his finger, down to those pink lips. He wished the King was holding him in his arms not to clean his wound but as a lover.

He comforted himself in his heart. He would win the King over soon!

The Prince's arm was thin but soft and white. A thin line, marred the beautiful skin and Zedekiel's fingers itched to heal the wound with his magic but that would make the Prince suspicious so he refrained and instead, used magic to dull the pain.

He didn't know why he was doing all this. He didn't know how he could have an Ashenmore in his arms, on his lap. Didn't he want to eradicate them? Didn't he want to make them suffer?