A PAIR OF EMPTY BLACK EYES haunted me throughout the next day.

"Miss, are you alright? You seem a little distracted today," Maria said, her voice odd. In the mirror, I could see her hands fidget with my hair. "Did you not sleep well last night?"

"I slept just fine," I said blankly. "Finish making me up, Maria. I'm tired."

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry for the wait."

As I stared at the strands of hair around Maria's hands, I suddenly had the thought of cutting my hair.

It's too long.

My eyes drifted over to the brush the girl had in her hands, and then to the way she curled my hair around her fingers, and then suddenly, to the way another's hands, bigger and rougher, had brushed across my hair last night.

I looked away from the mirror. At the same time, I wondered if I'd gotten to that point of a post-traumatic incident that even my own face would become a trigger.

I remember that, when I was younger, Babylon was a town that grew famous for its murky, lurking horror stories, spread through the word of mouth, lullabies and bedtime stories. There were even some people whose sole profession was to tell these stories and scare children.

I didn't have very many memories with my mother, but I did know that she absolutely loved these stories, and would tell me one every night.

She had a favorite one, of course, and I'd heard it from her maybe three times, and from everyone else, too many times to count. It was a weird, spooky story that was always her first choice when the moon was high and the owls sounded like wolves outside.

Once upon a time, there lived a little girl. This little girl lived alone, as her parents had died when she was very young. In fact, she didn't remember much of her parents, an they didn't leave her much to remember them by, either. The only thing they did leave her was a very big mirror, nailed down in the center of her bedroom.

The little girl didn't know why the mirror was there, but it was very pretty, so every day, she would clean the mirror and make sure that it was spotless. Because she didn't have any friends, sometimes, she would even talk to the mirror. She would tell the little girl looking back to her about all of her problems and all of her nightmare, and eventually, began to do this every single night.

One night, the little girl was awaken by a bad dream. In order to comfort herself, as usual, she went down from her bed and sat down in front of the mirror.

But today, the little girl in the mirror looked different. Usually, the girl would follow whatever she did, but today, when she sat down and smiled at the mirror, the little girl didn't smile back.

Suddenly, she realized something was wrong.

Two hands reached forward from the mirror and, to the little girl's horror, she watched as the hands pushed through the surface and wrapped around her neck.

"I know everything about you," the little girl in the mirror said, smiling sweetly, so sweet it felt like honey dripping down the throat. "I know all your fears, all your ghosts, all your nightmares. It's your fault for trusting me so much. If you didn't, then how could I have managed to get out of this mirror?"

The girl in the mirror smiled again. "But don't worry, you won't be treated poorly. You're most afraid of losing your mother again, yes? I'll put you in this mirror, and you'll be reminded of it again, and again, and again... Just like I was. Who told you to trust me so much, little one? How stupid."

The little girl couldn't reply — at that point, she'd been strangled and had died.

In the story, the name of the little girl had never been explicitly mentioned, but I'd never felt such a strong kinship to the character before.

I was afraid that if I continued to look into the mirror, I'd see my eyes, my face and my mouth and would be stuck repeating last night in my head.

It was a desperate attempt I was going through, trying to block out fragments of my mind and memory, but what else was I supposed to do?

I didn't have the strength to even reminisce, much less think through the prince's odd actions.

Last night, after he had collapsed, I'd stayed there staring at him for what had seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes in reality. I kept feeling that something was off, and that at any moment, the prince would wake up and look up and realize that the little prey, the defenseless little bunny was very much still there, and I would still be dead.

But the prince stayed on the ground, and in the next few moments, I'd found myself walking down the hall and going inside my own bedroom.

If it hadn't felt so realistic, and the goosebumps and lingering fear still had not receded, then I would've thought that everything yesterday was only a horrible, terrible nightmare.

I don't even know if the prince is dead right now.

I don't even know if I want to know.

All of a sudden, I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head, followed by Maria's worried voice.

"I'm so sorry, Miss, I was distracted and didn't put enough care into how much force I used. Are you hurt?"

"No, it's okay," I said, closing my eyes again. "Just continue."

To be honest, Maria's accidental tug had come at just the right time, and had pulled me out of my thoughts at the best moment.

Even someone's own thoughts could be as scary as the sea, and considering how many people drowned, it was not a small fear.

The room fell back into quiet silence.

On my end, I had thought that the silence was quite comfortable — after all, I had grown up living with only one person, and then halfway through my adolescence, had lived alone. I was used to the silence, and was especially unaccustomed by the palace's constant hustling and bustling. The silence was a nice, welcome change.

However, behind me, I could hear Maria's constant shifting.

I couldn't help myself from pursing my lips. "What's got you so nervous?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her tense.

"It's nothing, Miss, it's just that..."

"It's just what?"

"We'll be late if we don't go down and get breakfast soon." Her voice was incredibly timid, and though I knew she especially wanted me to go down, at the moment, I didn't quite care.

The same pair of black eyes flashed through my mind, running away as quick as it had come.

"I'm not feeling very well," I said. "I'm not going to eat breakfast with them today, I don't think."

Immediately, I could see Maria looking distraught. "But... But, Miss, then, wouldn't you be hungry?"

In the mirror, her eyes were practically screaming, how do you want to flirt with the prince if you won't even see the prince?

"I'm sorry, Maria, but I'm really not feeling very well today. Could you please just bring up my breakfast?"

Maria looked reluctant, and though she tried her best to hide it, her poor acting skills were obvious from miles away. "Are you sure, Miss?"

"Yes, please."

Maria left the room sadly, leaving me in front of the vanity.

I pursued my lips together.

Of course, I'd expected Maria to be the biggest cheerleader of this relationship — after all, if I did win the Prince's heart, her position would naturally rise alongside mine.

At the same time, though, I hadn't expected her to be so enthusiastic about the whole thing. I didn't think any servant would be that dedicated to serving a temporary master, especially if that servant was not getting paid and was just a mere slave.

Perhaps Ismal promised her some benefits if I did manage to get together with the prince, who knows?

Or perhaps she has a secret too?

For some reason, after I thought of this, the large, red walls started to look looming, and I frowned.

Glancing at the mirror in front of me, I frowned harder when I saw the two thick lines of kohl Maria had drawn around my eyes.

Regardless of whether I like the Prince or not, would one even be willing to see me if I show up looking like that?

I reached up and wiped the black lines on my face, aiming to take off the liner, but kohl was thick and gloopy, and even though by the end I had swiped so hard that the corners of my eyes were turning red, all my efforts simply resulted in two thick, tear-like stains falling down my cheeks.

My frown pulled my lips harder.

Just as I was about to reach up and try again, I heard the sound of footsteps a outside my door.

"I think we got lost," someone said, a girl whose voice was so soft and pitchy she almost sounded mouse-like. "Ester, I think this is the West Wing. There's no way we should be going over here."

"I know, I know," the other, Ester, said impatiently, her voice reedy and thin, and I had a sudden thought that she must be very good at singing. "I knew we should've gone exploring around the palace yesterday; now the Princes are holding a group date and we might be late!"

"It can't be helped," the other said, her voice still just as soft, but the frown in her tone was clear. "After all, Prince Finn told us to stay in our rooms unless called for. How would we know where the gardens are?"

"Oh, of course you're calm," Ester replied, her voice sharp, "after all, Laleh, you've already gotten a date."

Ester paused for a second before continuing on, her voice angrier this time, "But I haven't! Not to mention, only ten girls are invited and all three princes will be attending. Even if I'm only aiming for one, it would be nice to have my options open."

"I get it, I get it," Laleh consoled. "Let's just go back to our wing and look for some maids or something. They'll definitely know the way to the gardens."

A group date?

All three princes will be there?

What about Prince Cairo?

After all, I had left the prince lying in the hall the night before, and to this moment, I still didn't know what had happened to him.

Would he really be coming?

Biting my lip, I stood up and headed to the window.

Though Ismal had, indeed, isolated me, it was also true that he gave me one of the most beautiful and largest rooms I'd seen, along with a window with an incredible view of the gardens.

Unfortunately, I'd never had the mind to appreciate it, as every look would remind me of my failed escape attempt — until now, that is.

As per usual weather in Archaem, the sun was blazing hot and the sky was too bright for me to hope to look at, painting the gardens and the people below in gold.

From my three-story high point of view, they looked little more than golden ants, but as they moved, I could just faintly make out silhouettes of specific features.

I could see a hooked nose, a gold bangle, the rose-wine eyes of Prince Finn, the burly build of Prince Raza...

But where's Prince Cairo?

My eyes continued trailing along until they finally stopped on a man leaning against a tree, sipping on a glass of what appeared to be wine.

Is... is that him?

He came?

He's alright?

What happened to him?

Without realizing, I stuck my face close to the glass, so flabbergasted I could barely process the fact that my nose was absolutely squashed against the window pane.

Even though I heard the conversation between Ester and Laleh, I didn't truly think he'd come out. He looked as if he'd died last night!

How? How can a human change so quickly in such a short amount of time? How can he look perfectly alright?

How?

And as I scrambled to get my bearings together, the clocks in my head turning a mile a minute, I could barely, just barely, register the fact that Prince Cairo had coincidentally looked up, locking eyes with me.

get ready, because things are finally going to start to get hot ;)

p.s. thank you so much for 3K!

KAY ©️ 2019.