"The Prince of Umbra, Lay, seriously?" Dara's voice rose as she paced around Layla's chambers.
"I didn't know," Layla said, her cheeks in her hands as she sat on the bed, thinking of what she had seen—the soldier turning out to be the Prince of Shadows.
"He seemed like a normal person, normal enough I suppose. I thought he was just some soldier. He didn't talk like he was King Malachai's son. I mean, you see how Helios acts—I just assumed all princes acted like that," she said, laying back on the bed, her face flushed as Dara continued to scold her.
"Well, it doesn't matter. You're not going to see him again," Dara said, finally sitting down at the vanity. Layla's heart lurched in her chest at the thought of that, but her veins pulsed at the thought of him not telling her the truth either. She couldn't discern between hating him and wanting to be around him. There was something that seemed to pull her in, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
"Why?" Layla blurted, sitting up and looking at Dara. Dara went rigid.
"What do you mean, why?" Her voice was like sharpened steel. "Let's see…" she said, tapping her fingers on her chin. "He's renowned for his way with women, for one—who knows what he's planning to do? He breaks hearts for fun, Lay. Second, he's the fucking prince of Umbra. Isn't that enough?" Dara sat silently, her leathers rustling against the comforter the only sound in the room now.
"You remember what I told you in the carriage right? About what he did to those people in Lunaris? Is that really the kind of person you want around you? He's…" She paused, straightening. "He's no better than his father, maybe worse and that's saying something. This bullshit today just proves it, Lay. Trust me on this one, you're better off staying away from him."
Layla went quiet, thinking about the Prince of Shadows and how he had kept his true identity a secret—and for what? Just to make his big entrance and see the shock on her face? Just to toy with her like a little mouse caught in his claws? Idiot—she was a fucking idiot.
But then her mind shifted from hating that stupid beautiful face to thinking about what Dara had said, about his mother, about the revenge he had sought for her. She thought of the pain he must have been in—a pain she understood, a pain she knew was hard to just bury. If she could have found the ones responsible for taking her parents, she wasn't so sure she could contain herself either.
Layla didn't want to hear any more. She thought of her parents then, of their adherence to the rule of law, and of the kingdom's stance on taking justice into their own hands. Her mother wouldn't have agreed with what he had done—wouldn't have tolerated a foreign prince killing on their lands.
"I'll stay away from him," Layla said quietly, sighing. But could she truly keep that promise? Truly tell the Prince of Shadows to go to hell the next time she saw him? She could and she would, if not for herself, then for her friend—for the only person who had been at her side through everything, the only person left who truly cared about her.
"Thank you, Lay. I'd kill him if something happened to you. I just don't want to see you get hurt," she said, folding her arms at the doorway to Layla's room. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. Get some rest—you have the ball to get ready for."
Gods, the ball. Shit. Couldn't this day just be over already? Now she had to go mingle with these arrogant assholes all night, and she would bet all the gold in Auroris that the Prince of Shadows would be lurking about, watching and waiting, just hoping for a reaction from her. At that moment, she decided she wouldn't give it to him—she wouldn't indulge his twisted games, just tell him to fuck off and be done with it.
She stuck her tongue out at Dara, who laughed before closing the door behind her, leaving Layla alone with her thoughts—her confused thoughts about the ball, the Prince of Shadows, and what he was capable of. She couldn't help but feel bad for him, but she also couldn't ignore what he was capable of.