Chrysanthyllis was tremendously frustrated with herself. 

She liked Zion, perhaps a little too much than was appropriate between royalty and a man with an unknown background. Yet, whenever there was an opportunity for them to have an exchange of words and grunts, she never failed to clam up. Every meal they shared, every glance, she wanted nothing more than to punch herself in the face for not having the courage to open her mouth and tell him that she wanted to help him.

Her decision had been made from the very beginning. As soon as he conveyed to her that intimacy was the answer, she already knew that she had no qualms about filling the role of a partner for him. And it was shameful.

She was ashamed of herself.

Zion had been suffering all by himself, cut off from the world for what she could only presume to be an unbearable period of time. Stuck in the exterior of a terrifying monster that had every avenue of meaningful communication ripped away from him, it was far more isolating than the childhood she had. She considered herself lucky. Yet, instead of sympathy, the first thing she thought of was herself.

She could be someone he needed. She could be of use to him, someone he could not toss out like trash without a second thought because she could serve a function. If she saved him, he might let her stay on in his lands even when she ceased to be useful. In the face of all his troubles and torment, all she could think of was her own survival. She did not deserve his kindness and his hospitality.

Her tiny and adorable new friend, the silver snake, sat on her shoulder. She had not been out in the forest for long for it to come slithering. Zion was not with her, but she was sure the snake had no intentions of hurting her. Avis, her new guard, was also adept at his job, always on high alert and ensuring her safety. In fact, he was helpful in ways that surpassed his duties.

He had shown her that her magic was growing.

In his efforts to safeguard her from the threat he perceived the snake to pose, he had inadvertently triggered her to summon a shield around herself. It was an atrociously weak one, but a month ago, she would have never been able to perform magic of this scale without succumbing to the curse. The joy that bubbled from within her, effervescent and warm, made her look for Zion.

She knew that he had been watching her. It was hard to miss his large figure at the window whenever he stood next to the open curtains, but she tended to pretend he was out of sight, if only to stop herself from thinking about him. 

Yet, in that moment, she could not help but look up towards his study, and their eyes met. With the silver snake on her shoulder giving her a small boost of encouragement and providing her with an excuse to call for his attention, she hazarded pointing out the cute animal. Zion responded by raising his palm to the glass, but that was all. He walked away shortly after, but he did not join her in the forest.

It was disappointing, but Chrysanthyllis had no right to be upset about his reluctance to visit her. She was the one who asked for time, and he was the gentleman refraining from putting pressure on her. She was also the one who could speak, so it was only fair that she took the initiative in approaching him. But she was a coward through and through. She was afraid to reach out to him, because no one in their right mind would deign to accept her hand. No one wanted her.

“Lady Chrys, Elliot told me that you’ve been here for nearly two months now. Have you heard anything about our master?”

Warily, Chrysanthyllis raised her head. Other than her telling him that the silver snake was harmless, and him imploring that she not put herself in dangerous situations without giving him a heads-up, they only ever exchanged polite greetings and nothing more. After three weeks together, it seemed that Avis no longer wanted to give her the luxury of space and solitude.

“I don’t know who your master is.”

He scratched his head. “His Grace, the ruler of Huvestria. None of us have seen him for the past seven years.”

Chrysanthyllis stilled.

Seven years?

“There are rumours that His Grace has been afflicted with an incurable disease that requires him to drink the blood of young women every night. Of course, none of us believe that. It’s just that we are aware there have been many ladies in and out of the castle. You’re the first to have stayed long enough to be assigned a guard, so I thought I could ask you.”

“Please tell me more about His Grace.”

“Have you not met him, my lady?”

“I…don’t know.”

“His Grace is known far and wide as the snake of the battlefield thanks to his brain and his swordsmanship. When he was thirteen, he plotted and proposed the strategy that led Huvestria to victory against the imperial army. An army with a headcount five times more than ours. None of us thought we would make it out alive.”

“How old was His Grace when he disappeared?”

“Nineteen. Please forgive me for bothering you, my lady. I was told that you preferred to be left alone, but we’re just worried for our master.”

“I’m worried for him, too,” she whispered.

Dinner with Zion was silent once again, but it was not awkward or uncomfortable. Rather than fretting about her inability to make the first move, Chrysanthyllis was deep in thought reliving her earlier conversation with Avis. She had learnt a few things in just those few minutes.

First, that Zion and Elliot were the only ones who were barred from relating anything remotely to do with the curse and Zion’s identity. Avis had been able to speak and speculate freely without plunging Zion into the depths of agony, and so had she. Pieces of the puzzle were coming together. Zion was the one she had been sent by the empress to bring forward.

She reflected on the very first meal she had shared with Zion. She had asked Elliot if he was capable of translating for Zion, and he had not been able to answer. Yet, that very same night, when she misunderstood Zion’s request for her heart, Elliot had served well as a communication middleman. She realised now that Elliot could do things for Zion, but that they could not divulge what was and what was not possible when it pertained to the curse. 

It meant that the curse was delimited to Zion and Elliot, with Zion bearing all of the consequences should either of them fail to adhere to the constraints placed on them. Whoever casted such insidious magic bore an enormous grudge against the snake of the battlefield, but Chrysanthyllis still could not understand why sex was the condition for breaking the curse. If it was purely for the sake of torturing Zion with the need for human interaction and the  impassability of human-monster copulation, surely the bearer of such malice was not someone to be trifled with.

She could no longer allow her immature pusillanimity to hold her back from extending her hand, because all it translated into was selfishness. Seven years was a miserably long time to be kept in the dark. Of all people, she knew what that felt like, and she did not want to be the reason he stayed in that abyss for longer.

But, how?

Did she just tell him straight to his face that she wanted to visit his chambers at night? She had no experience with men, be they human or monster, but she at least knew from her education at the palace that a proper lady never made the first move when it came to bedroom activities. In this case, she did not have a choice. Zion would not initiate anything, not when he did not have her consent, and definitely not when he was still waiting for her answer.

Chrysanthyllis stared at the dessert that was served in front of her. It was one of her favourites – the bread pudding that she and Zion had eaten in his study a while back – but her appetite was gone. She sighed.

Grunt?

Ever attentive Zion was quick to react to her sigh, and she was embarrassed for daring to express her gloominess when he had much more to be unhappy about. She lowered her head, awkward, but perhaps this was a blessing in disguise, the opening she had been hoping for to overcome her cowardly personality and end the silence between them.

“I…”

He was waiting for her.

Her throat closed up.

She hated herself. 

Upset and dismayed, she got to her feet. Elliot asked her what was wrong, and her eyes began to water.

Me. I’m what’s wrong. 

I’m a coward. I’m afraid to put out my hand because Zion may reject me. And, if he does take it, he might be punished. 

He could regret me. Then, what do I do?

“My lady, why… How can I… Please tell me what’s troubling you. If it’s something that we can resolve…”

Elliot was flustering about her, clearly unprepared to deal with a seemingly discontented Chrysanthyllis. She clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms. Finally, her voice crossed into reality. “Please leave.”

“Pardon me, my lady, do you mean you’d like to be alone with the beast?” His voice was just as hushed as hers was.

“Yes.”

Elliot wavered. “Is this… Are you…”

She knew exactly what he was trying to ask: was she aware of the curse and what it entailed, and was this her way of telling him that she was going to help his master.

“Yes.”

They had an understanding. Elliot immediately retreated. It was just her and Zion now.