edited and rewritten

Queen Flora leaves me alone with the doctor in her office. The frigidness of the room grips at my fingers, turning them pale. Antibiotics and the smell of alcohol migrate through the air and nip at my nostrils. I sneeze and the doctor, Kate Evans, blesses me.

"Thank you," I say and she motions for me to sit on the bed. I do as she says but I jerk a little when I sit on the cold leather. My thighs tense and I squirm a little. I don't think I should've worn a dress. I'm cold. Everyone in this building must hate the summer as much as I do because the air conditioning unit is on blast.

"The Queen gave me some information about you, but not a lot. What's wrong with you?" She asks, sitting on a rolly backless swivel. She holds her clipboard in both hands as she looks at me. She's quite young rather than what I expected. I thought she was going to be some old woman but she looks to be in her early twenties. Is she in her early twenties or a vampire?

Her question catches me off guard. I used coming to the doctor as an excuse since I didn't want to go to school or stay home alone. "Uh, I'm not sure. I'm a bit hot and sick. I'm sorry, I'm not good at explaining things." I look around the room. Her office has a bunch of hospital supplies along with degrees on the wall. It's a gigantic room, way bigger than your average hospital room.

She nods, then she starts writing down a few things on her clipboard, "It's okay. Let me get the thermometer." She spins around in her chair and picks up the thermometer from a packet on a rack.

"Hold this under your arm until it beeps, okay?" She hands it to me and I do as she says. She glides over in her chair to another section of the room. She comes back with a sphygmomanometer and fixes it on me.

She starts squeezing the bulb and the cuff tightens on my arm. A minute passes and she stops squeezing then she looks at the screen. "Hmm, your blood pressure is good. It's 103/74." She says.

The thermometer beeps and I take it from under my arm, giving it to her. She looks at it then she nods. "You're burning up a little. Not anything too bad, so don't worry. It seems you've gotten the fever. Your symptoms don't seem to be too bad. Don't worry."

"Oh okay, thank you," I say then I look to my left, reading her degrees. Wow, she's quite qualified. She has at least seven degrees on the wall. Out in corner of my eye, I spot Dr. Evans staring at my neck. She's staring right where that vampire bit me last night. The marks are still there. I turn my head to the right, concealing the bite marks.

Please don't ask me about it. I continue pleading in my head but of course, life can't be that simple for me.

"Where did you get those marks?" She asks.

I look at her as if I have no idea what she's talking about. "Pardon me?"

She squints her eyes at me. "Turn your head. I saw bite marks. You're sixteen, aren't you? Your symptoms could be you recovering from a vampire bite." She brings her hands up to my head and turns my head to the side. Moving my hair, she analyzes my wounds.

"What? Oh, those?" I laugh nervously, "It's not real, it's makeup, for film class." I bite my tongue, praying that she'll believe my lie. I guess I'm lying to everyone today.

She hums as she continues looking at it. My heart beats wildly in my chest as I pray for her to stop. She pulls away then she puts on gloves and she inspects my wounds closer. "Truly, they're not real," I say, but that doesn't thwart her.

She continues inspecting them, then she does what I was hoping she wouldn't do. She touches them. Me trying to convince her that it's fake and only makeup is going to be difficult now. My body reacts naturally and I hiss as I flinch away.

She angles her head at me, "If they're fake why'd you hiss and pull away?"

The question lingers in the air before I try to save my story. "You pressed down a bit hard, also, your hands are cold."

She hums then she looks away from me. "Alright, anyway, as I said before, your symptoms seem to be from the fever. You're dismissed." She stands from her chair and moves away from me.

I get off the bed then I walk out of her office. I look both ways down the long hallway. I completely forgot where I came from. The Queen was the one who led me here. I do remember that I took the left path, though.

Alright, remember, Adara, look for portraits. Once you see portraits you know you're on the right path. I continue talking to myself until I see the familiar gigantic door. It's still cracked open. The King and the Prince are still inside. The King isn't yelling at him anymore, now he's only talking to him. I can't hear what they're saying. I lean in a little, trying to hear what they're talking about but I'm unable to.

They must have some sound-canceling technology because I can't hear a single thing. In that moment of me eavesdropping, the Prince's eyes flicker to me and then back to the King. They snap back to me in an instant. His eyes grow wide a little then he lifts his finger to the King, asking him to pause their conversation.

He walks toward me and I turn around, ready to run away. The second I take one step away he comes out and closes the door behind him. "Wait!" He says and I stop in my tracks.

With my pounding heart and guilty conscience, I squeeze my eyes shut then I turn around. "Yes?"

I open my eyes and he looks at me with furrowed brows. "What are you doing here? It's not every day the Palace lets non-royals in." He places his hands inside his pockets. Some locks of disheveled hair droop down shaping his face. They look like those wolf bangs almost. He's wearing his royal suit like he was the night he saved me. I've always found his royal suit fascinating.

Whoever designed it must have put a lot of effort into it. The suit is like a beautiful shade of dark blue—Royal Blue. So are the pants. Along the sides are golden streaks that descend like endless strips of sand along the beach. Unlike other parts of his attire, his vest is white.

I stop analyzing everything he's wearing and I snap back to reality. Did he know that I saw his dad yelling at him earlier? I'm not gonna bring it up, it wasn't even my place to eavesdrop.

"My parents work here," I answer.

He looks over my body with the same confused look on his face, "Yeah, I know that. But you don't."

I stutter as I respond to him, "No, I know. I um. . .could we talk somewhere more private?"

He blinks and remains quiet for a few seconds. Could he be playing this conversation out in his head?

"Of course, right this way." He walks in front of me, leading me somewhere. Oh my goodness, this feels so weird. The Prince of ArchDale is the least approached person in the Royal Family. It feels weird to know things about him from what the media says then to be communicating with him now. The media talks about his past and how. . .colorful it is.

Vampires came out of hiding a little over seven hundred years ago. Since then, the Prince of ArchDale has murdered thousands of people. I heard it was after the Great Battle―the war between humans and vampires. He was never reprimanded nor punished. The King allowed him to do whatever he wanted to do. We all thought the King was either scared of the Prince or biased.

Many of us think it's the latter, but no one will say how they feel. The King is in charge and what he says goes. It doesn't matter that he and the World President are 'co-leaders'. The King is the one in charge, and we all know that by now.

My eyes dart to his hands. They're completely clean and polished. It's as if he spent three hours getting his hands and nails polished to perfection. To think that one day, some time ago, blood filled his hands. Someone else's blood covered them.

I look at his face. His face possessed sheer ferocity and hate once. He watched the life drain out of someone before. How could someone take a life? Don't they feel immense guilt? How can they keep living their life knowing that many people died because of them? How can he sleep knowing that thousands of people died by his hands?

Would you have preferred mass murderers who killed children to live?

I jump and I stop walking. "You can hear my thoughts?" I ask but he keeps walking. He stops when he realizes I'm not walking anymore.

He turns to me, "Walk."

At the sound of his voice, I pick up the pace. We walk into a room and he closes the door behind us. All the windows are open and they present a view of the gigantic gardens. I've heard about how gigantic the garden is. I haven't been able to see it though. The Royal Family doesn't allow any photos beyond the entrance and the ballroom. So this is my first time seeing inside of the Palace. This is a gorgeous place.

"Your highness, can you hear my thoughts?" I re-ask him my previous question.

He places his hands inside his pockets as he leans against a pillar. "You didn't answer my initial question."

My eyes widen. Oh my goodness, I didn't. Would he punish me for that? I could be overreacting, I'm not around royalty every day.

"What was it?" I ask him.

He takes a few steps closer to me. He's not close to me but he's closer. He's at least ten feet from me. This room is gigantic. Thank heavens. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school or your home?" He asks.

"Oh, that. I'm still not feeling well from. . .from that." I say, playing with my fingers. His eyes drop down to my fingers and observe my nervous habit.

"Well, why aren't you recovering at home?" He asks.

I let out a breath. Man, is it getting hot in here, or is it only me? I'm so anxious it's as if my heart is about to burst.

"I didn't want to stay at home alone."

He nods, understanding my reasons. "Makes sense. Why were you eavesdropping on a private conversation between the King and me?"

My anxiety becomes even worse. If the tension in this room doesn't dissipate in a little bit, I'm going to have a heart attack.

"Um, I-I wasn't I. . ." I stutter.

He takes a few more steps toward me. He's not ten feet away from me anymore, he's three feet away. He's so close to me I can hear his breathing. I can't lie to him. I won't take that chance. He's royalty, that wouldn't be wise. What if he figures out that I'm lying? He'd punish me. That punishment could be a slap on the wrist or death. You never know with royalty.

"I'm so sorry, your highness. I didn't mean to eavesdrop I was just. . .I-I'm sorry." I bow my head as I avoid his gaze with him. I stare at the polished floor. Woah, I can see my reflection. Whoever cleaned this deserves a hefty raise. This is good quality cleaning.

"It's okay." He answers.

My head snaps up to him in an instant, "What do you mean? What I did wasn't okay. It was a private matter between you and the King. I-I never should have―" I clamp my mouth shut when he takes the two remaining steps toward me.

As of right now, there is little space between the Prince of ArchDale and me. Take deep breaths, Adara. It's all going to be okay. Just keep breathing. You'll be alright.

"Do you want to get punished?" He asks in a low voice.

I shake my head, "No, your highness."

He nods, taking a few steps back. "Good."

The tension relieves itself enough for me to breathe. I barely breathed when he was that close to me. It was too much. Not to mention I could only smell his cologne. I mean. . .it wasn't bad. It was amazing I'll give him that, but this is all so weird. It was only a few days ago in I didn't speak to him. I wasn't even sure if he was aware of my existence. And now, we're. . .communicating. I don't know how to put our relationship other than that.

"But you were telling the truth when you said you needed my help." I try to make my voice as small as possible.

His hands are still comfortable in the pockets of his pants. His head raises a few inches then it tilts to the left a little. "Elaborate." He orders.

I'm starting to realize that the Prince gives orders a lot. I guess when you're royalty you're not used to asking for things. You tell and you receive.

"You didn't tell me that the Kennedys were suing you nor that your becoming King weighs on the outcome of the trial," I say.

His chest heaves as he lets out a sigh. His wall of nonchalantness wears off. He takes his hand out from his pocket and rubs his temples with his index finger and thumb. "Yeah. I didn't think I would need to reveal that information for you to help me." He admits.

My brows raise a little, "I'm not going to obey you blindly. With all due respect your highness, I don't know you. Why would I agree to go into a bound contract with you? My parents are lawyers, have you forgotten that? I know things also."

A small smile plays at the edge of his lips, "I would expect nothing less from Freya De Clare's daughter. You should see her tenacity in every meeting with me. She speaks to me without caution. I see that part of her inside of you."

He does? I'm every bit nervous, anxious, and scared wrapped in a burrito. Which part of me is like my mother? I'm like neither of them. I'm not going to correct him though.

"Thank you, your highness."

"If you choose to, could I carry you to dinner tomorrow? You will be able to ask me any and every question you want to without fear. I promise." He proposes.

That would help me decide if I want to help him or not. "Okay, I accept. When?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "Whichever time works best for you."

I take my time thinking about it. "The evening. Around five. I'm going to school tomorrow and won't be home till three. So five seems like the best time."

He nods, "Alright, I'll see you then."