I don't look like myself.

Dirt is caked underneath my fingernails, and my usually glossy brown hair is dull and oily. My face has gotten pale, as if my life force has been sucked out of me straight from the bone. My brown eyes don't have the usual black kohl rimmed eyeliner, neither a smile.

All the areas that once seemed full of life are now flat and lifeless— even with a Kilian around and his endless flirting and care. Even with his taunting and steamy gazes— I'm just not myself without my father.

The man who raised me, fed me, taught me everything I know. The same man who would read to me Barbie stories when I was fighting my sleep; no matter how many times I asked him to read it one more time. The same man who woke me up with hot chocolate and random kids shows on tv— the loving man who never put his hands on me.

The one that is probably being endlessly tortured as we speak. My anger spikes like a ravenous flame— my ice is vicious and I can't pretend it's not anymore. The relentless strikes going on inside of my body haven't halted, and I can feel that I'm going to lose control again very soon. I have to get to my father sooner rather than later. He can fix this; he can fix me.

I'm nothing without the caring hands of the one who shaped me into myself. Nothing.

The bitterness is fierce in my eyes as I glare at my reflection in water; an endless pit of controlled anger.

Kilian had taken me to a small stream five minutes out of the main village— so that I could wash away the days grime. The ball was tonight, and his plan seemed like it would hold weight; I agreed to it.

No matter how many people could tell me to never trust a sketchy demon— I couldn't help it. Plus, he's half a demon. Not full bred— that has to count for something right?

Thinking of only getting this over quickly, I start to strip my clothing as Kilian sits nearby on a boulder. He's sharpening his blades and pauses slightly to give me an eyebrow raise. I narrow my eyes at him, once again feeling hopeless like in the cafe.

I drop my cloak on the dirt ground and start to pull at my dress, but pause as I see him start to say something.

"Are you alright?" His voice is silk against the rushing water, and hearing it calms my nerves a bit. Shaking slightly, I nod. He furrows his eyebrows at me, but I just turn away, that bitterness still coating my mouth.

He's just trying to help you. I know; but I can't help but feel that if he better off alone. I am no good to anyone in this state, especially if I lose control of my powers again.

I take a shaky breath.

"Do I get one of those?" I ask, voice ringing steady. I tug off my dress and I can feel Kilian hesitate— eyes betraying him. His head turns sharply as an attempt to give me privacy, but to that I just smirk.

This didn't bother me. This feels natural— almost like I knew at one point I'd be giving myself to him— heart and body.

I glance back at him to see if he'd heard me, noticing that the sharpening of his blades have stopped. His jaw is clenched and his cheeks are pink— this is an entirely different reaction to back at the river in the war camp.

Back when we had teased and flirted shamelessly; now, he seems almost gentle.

"A blade, I mean. If we are going to that ball and sticking to the plan, I'd want some extra protection if my ice doesn't go according to plan." I say to him, watching as he nods without looking. He swallows slowly, thickly, and then speaks.

"You'll take one of mine. It recognizes me as its owner and has some of my power embedded into it— but you're of my like. It'll recognize you." He says lightly, sharpening the edge even more, a spark bounces off of it.

Of his like? I don't have time to ponder or even ask about it. Instead, I venture into the clear stream; without my undergarments.

I have a bar of soap that I use to clean myself, scrubbing the dirt from underneath my nails. We didn't have the time to get proper shampoo so I make due with what I have, scrubbing soap bubbles into my oily hair.

Knowing how much of a dark mood I'm in, I try to think of something light. Something cute.

My mind wanders to the six foot muscular demon sitting a couple feet away from me. Someone who screams warrior, and undefeated.

Then I think of the soft pink blush that graced his cheeks a couple minutes ago.

So different from the burning gaze that had me pinned to his bed underneath him back at the camp.

With that, I grin to myself.

I grin, because I know I need something to take this pressure off of my chest— but it only seems to intensify when I think of Kilian.

Tonight, we're going to his fathers castle; he is the prince after all— we should have VIP tickets. Ha, that's funny.

I'd be his date— beautiful and charming on the arm of a beast.

We'd split up before his father could even spot him— me going for a walk through the castle corridors.

Kilian making an entrance and shocking the lot of spectacular magical guests. I mean— how long has the prince been believed dead anyways?

Meanwhile— I'd be looking for my father.

Two right turns and straight up the grand staircase. Yes, up. His father is sadistic and typically keeps his torture dungeon above ground on the second floor. Such a contrast from the basement dungeons that I'm used to. 'Yeah cause I've been in so many dungeons.' I think to myself sarcastically.

He likes to hear the screams of those who have wronged him.

I pause scrubbing bubbles throughout my scalp for a second, and frown to myself.

Whatever I'd see in that dungeon, I'd have to ignore. No matter how gruesome and how much empathy I have.

The goal is to get in, grab my dad— and get the hell out.

No lingering stares, no risk of being seen.

Maybe one or two guards that I'd have to deal with— but nobody was dumb enough to outright steal from the king underneath his nose.

Well... except, we are dumb enough.

And we'd do it more than once if we had to.

No time for delays, I continue my scrubbing; because tonight, we scheme.

•

•

•

•