Hehe! Hey! So here's a little tidbit (haha what a silly word!) of info about this story! It's my favorite Series (The Scorpio Races is my favorite book!) and with the plotline in this fanfic, I have changed the story twice on my computer and about 12 1/2 times in my mind! Yuop, that's it! And it's gonna be in Alek's point of view for a little while! Hope I do an okay job! Let me know!
Chapter 5
As he walked into his cabin, he felt his heart drop with dread and sadness. He'd given Deryn the news straight because he'd known she could take it, being the type of person Deryn was. She wouldn't have wanted him to try to sugarcoat the news, but he hadn't thought she would look so utterly crushed.
When Alek left her cabin, she'd stared straight at the end of her small wooden bunk with unseeing eyes. She hadn't been yelling or crying, which made it worse, but he should've known she wouldn't. Deryn might've been an outgoing girl, but she didn't cry, not even the time she got really badly injured trying to warn the Leviathan crew that there were camera walkers.
"Alek, ist es Zeit zu gehen. Sind Sie bereit?" Volger demanded, not bothering to knock and wait for permission to enter.
"Yes, Volger. I'll be ready to leave in just a minute. Please wait for me out in the hall." Alek replied, not bothering to reply in German.
He didn't turn around until he heard the soft click of the door closing, and then, only then, did he blink his green eyes, closing off his view from the white wall he faced.
Oh, Deryn, I love you, he thought, but he was still too afraid to say those words to a girl like Deryn. A girl who wasn't scared of much, and faced danger with a smile and a quick retort.
He already missed her scottish lilt and her bad swearing, and, even though she was not the type of girl he was brought up with, Deryn Sharp would definitely be his first choice of a wife if it were at all possible.
Alek sighed deeply, releasing a few pent up emotions. A prince was supposed to look grand and royal, but Alek didn't feel any of that. He felt like dirt that has been tread upon many times by busy citizens unable to take the time of day to look at him.
He turned, grabbed his vasile, looked around the familiar room once more, then pulled himself together, taking his first step away from the home he'd come to know and love, the girl he'd come to adore, and everything dear.
He didn't look back as he walked down the hall, becoming more and more heartsick, but not showing it on his face.
But maybe, just maybe, if Aleksander Ferdinand, Prince of Austria-Hungry had looked back, things would have never changed.
Haha! Another Cliff-Hanger! Am I mean, or am I mean? :p