The Dark Prince

"You were so vivacious, so energetic. Your Kingdom became enamoured by you immediately, predicting that you would be a fair, but responsible Queen one day." The photo is of me, a young gir

icate tomb..." If my death was so sudden, why did it look like everything was so well prepared for it? "The moment you were born your tomb was worked on by worldly artists," she says quickly, squeezing my sweating hand. I think of the painted walls, the painted casket. It's creepy to think about how much intention went into creating a space for death. Being a Royal is strange. "And how am I alive right now?" Crimson looks up at Roel, who hesitates before he answers. "We are not sure, exactly." "It was not dark magic, sweetheart," Crimson attempts to soothe. "This is a miracle, a gift from the Angels. Everyone knows you died before you truly lived out your potential. You're here to finish what you started, of course." I frown at the mention of dark magic. What is that supposed to mean? Sighing, I look down at the photos again as Crimson shows me another. It's me, looking vibrant, other than the sour look on my face. My dress is a beautiful emerald green, matching Crimson's. We stand in the entrance of what must be this home, clutching each other's hands as we look at two men facing us. The older man of the two wears a large crown adorned with fat jewels that are impressive, even in this photograph. The other wears a smaller, silver crown atop their deep brown, almost black hair. "What's that photo?" I ask curiously. "Oh, this is my favourite," Crimson says. "It's you at your engagement party." The world seems to shudder to a stop, my entire attention zeroing in on the photo. "I'm engaged?" I whisper. I better not be engaged to that older man... "Yes, of course." Crimson points to the younger man. "This is Vade, a Prince from Territory Five. You two were engaged the moment you were born. His father is great friends with yours." Nausea twists in my stomach. I'm engaged to a man I don't remember. I can only see part of his face in the photo, but he seems handsome. He's tall and slender, with a perfectly curved nose and refined cheekbones. " A prince....and my father, where is he?" I ask. "On business, but he is hastily returning," she says quickly. A little too quickly. I shove the thought of a potentially strained family dynamic to the side, concentrating on the earth splintering news that there is a man out there I am supposed to spend the rest of my life with. "I'm engaged," I whisper. The photos are suddenly plucked from my hand. "Maybe we should g