"The bottom line is that we never fall for the person we're supposed to."

Jodi Picoult

Chapter 3:

A warlock. That was what she was. The only one left. Warlocks were dangerous. Almost unbeatable. They had powers beyond imagination. Beyond the average warrior. William had participated in the Great War, of course, on the victorious side. His father had an army worth a million soldiers. An army so strong, civilians feared of even mentioning its name. And yet this girl was a warlock. The one who appeared so weak and fragile. The one who had scars across her back and a seeping wound on her stomach. She did not look like much. He had never met a warlock before. He never saw one nor fought one. In the war, he was placed on the defensive wall. His role was to place a barrier against the coming enemy. It was quite simple. The doubt of his father angered him.

The king had killed warlocks. As he and his knights approached fort after fort, they killed warlocks with the worst of manners. Stories had passed down about them. Warlocks were said to be the key of a battle. The key to success. They were said to be made by the blood of an angel and the blood of a human. William did not think much of it. They were myths for entertainment. He shook his head and trudged into his room, blinking away from his invading thoughts. He found Jem, his servant and best friend, down the hall. His eyebrows rose. "And where are you going my dear James?"

His companion smiled and bowed despite the many times William advised him not to. "I am to visit the warlock. I must give her a meal."

William shrugged his shoulders. "I thought she was given food."

James pursed his lips, his face in hard concentration. "She is a warlock, William. She will not be treated well by the staff. I must be able to help. She remains a human." The prince snorted and waved his fingers in the air before sauntering into his quarters.

Jem watched him with a certain amusement in his yellow-green orbs. He scanned his surroundings and quickly took the stairs underground where he spotted the cell. It was quite horrifying. No human would survive in such a small space. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of dried blood and stepped in, clutching his torch closely.

She was staring at him. Her hair was tousled and her lips were parted. She was a beauty. Even he, a servant, had to admit it. Her body was slender but wounded in several places and he nearly flinched as he heard her move away, a bone cracking. He listened as she whimpered softly and tried to get away from him. He held his arms upwards. "I have a meal. I am not here to hurt you." Her shoulders remained stiff but he noticed her nod.

Smiling gently at her, he grabbed the tray closer to him and sat across from her. She was peering at him in curiosity. He did not want to meet her eyes for he would get lost in them. "Who are you?" Her voice was like velvet. Soft but firm.

"A servant of William's. Have you met him? He is the prince."

She bristled at the name. "He is cruel. Just like Edmund."

Jem laughed. "No he is not. You just do not know him like I do. I believe he puts a mask on to keep emotions from seeping through."

"Why is that?"

"I do not know." He picked up the loaf of bread and ripped it into two. He handed it out to her.

She winced. "I can not. My hands. There are cuffs. I can not move."

The weakness in her tone was so evident. What had she done to suffer this much? "Do you mind if I feed it to you?" His question made his own cheeks color in embarrassment but she took no mind.

"Please." He brought the bread and lifted it to her lips. She took it in her mouth and chewed. She was young. Much like him. Wouldn't a warlock be older?

"May I ask your name?" She asked again.

He smiled. "You ask many questions. Do you know that?"

Her eyes lowered. "I do not see what is wrong with that."

Jem watched her, bewildered by her behavior. "It is James. You can call me Jem. And you are?" He fed her a spoon of the soup, blowing onto the liquid to make sure it was not too hot.

She took a moment to answer. "Theresa Gray. Tessa."

He brought the last of the bread on his finger tips and raised it to her lips. Her lips touched his hand and he apologized, wanting to make sure he did not hurt her. "Do you need anything else?" He asked her. He knew for certain that if the king found out of the action he was performing, a consequence would be expected.

"Clothes please. I-I need a change. I do not believ-"

James cut her off with a cheeky grin. "I shall bring what I can. Do not worry, Theresa." Her name rolled down his tongue like a sugary sweet.

She released a shaking breath and he wanted nothing more but to make her feel better. He did not have the power. He was simply a poor man in a castle. She was a warlock. "Thank you, James."

And that was enough for him to try and come back the next day.

What he did not notice were the sapphire eyes that watched them from behind.

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