"So… is it safe?"

"I dunno!"

"I think it's dead, you two."

The voices broke through to me at a lagged rate, their words and voices having no meaning at first, until my brain processed enough to realize that people were talking. Likewise, it took a minute to notice they were poking me in the face and ribs with some sort of inanimate object, which gave off the impression of children around a shred of roadkill. Why were they poking me? Who knows? Was I roadkill? Perhaps. I certainly wasn't awake enough to dismiss the possibility. Not that I cared; I wanted to sleep more. For that, I grumbled at the continuing poking and swatted the people away before rolling over to get comfortable again.

A little girl's gasp was heard, "It moved!"

"Maybe it's spasmin'," another child suggested.

Someone laughed in response, their voice louder with a deeper timbre to suggest it belonged to a boy in his later teens. Older than me maybe?

"I doubt that, kid," he continued. "Dead things don't spasm."

"Yeah they do!" the littler boy argued, irked that his idea was dismissed. "This dead bird kept havin' spasms after it died!"

"Are you sure it was dead?" the teenager asked with uncertainty.

"Yeah-huh!"

"Guys, whadda 'bout this thingie right here?" the girl questioned.

Another poke followed the statement, so now my slumber had been disturbed enough for me to start getting suspicious of their activities.

A thoughtful hum came from the eldest, and at last he answered, "Make sure it's dead."

"And how do we do that, Your Highness?" the little boy grumbled, clearly holding a grudge over his discarded spasm idea.

"Hey!" the elder snapped. Something in his tone changed, perhaps haughtiness leaking in. All I knew was it snapped me out of my half-sleep with how it grated against my nerves. "Don't get an attitude with me, boy. Be glad I don't mind having commoners for friends!"

"Oh stop it, you two," the little girl interrupted. "We can jus' poke it sum'more."

And that's exactly what they did. My guess was the older one had stepped back to watch while the kids prodded at me to ensure my death, but my patience wore out quick, especially since this was my precious sleep-time being interrupted. My hand flew up to grab the stick that had landed one final time against my ribs.

My head whipped around to glare over my shoulder, eyebrow twitching, "Got a problem with me sleeping, bratlings?"

The girl squeaked, cute blond curls bouncing up in the air as she scurried into the cover of the trees with the other two. I blinked at how fast the three had run off. Aside from the general babyish appearance of the girl, I hadn't caught much of a glimpse of the other two; the little boy had vanished quicker than the girl, but the older one had hesitated before dashing. Dark clothes, a lean build, and red earrings were the only specifics I got on him. Red earrings though? Somehow that detail stuck out in memory, light glinting off the crystalline jewels as he turned to flee.

I sat up with a groan now, rubbing at my eyes and feeling as if I'd recovered from a bad migraine. Resting my back against a tree trunk, I allowed my eyelids to reopen to take in the surroundings and remember where I was… but no memories of this place returned. At first I blamed it on my semi-loopy train of thought, giving myself a long while to figure things out and retrace my steps, but after the memories of the graveyard, nothing came. A bright light maybe?

Brows furrowing, I examined the tiny patch of empty space within the thick forestry. Then, and only then, it sunk it.

"Where the hell am I?" I almost squeaked.

A look this way and that way confirmed I'd gotten horribly lost somehow. This was not familiar at all, and I hadn't the faintest idea how I'd gotten there. Sleepwalking ended up the most likely candidate, but it still left the question of when I'd fallen asleep. All of this triggered another big question.

"Wait a minute…" My eyes combed the grassy grounds. "Where's my stuff?"

I crawled around in desperation, hoping that by ripping at the grass and feeling over the dirt that my backpack would reappear, and I kept at it for a good ten minutes, too attached and overprotective of my things to let this matter go quietly. Actually, I'm pretty sure I was screaming out "No! No! Come back! For fuck's sake, please!" a good portion of the search.

However, it took me by surprise when a couple pairs of feet stopped by the edge of this miniature clearing, the clinks of armor and quiet gasps alerting me to their presence.

In an instant, I whipped my head around, "Get on your knees and help me! All my things are missing!"

Panicked as I looked and fierce as my tone was, my expression froze and my search paused, seeing two baffled strangers wearing foreign armor. They appeared normal, one past his mid-life and the other about to reach it, save for the odd orangey hue to their brown eyes.

"Do…" the younger one started, hesitating. It seemed that they'd been holding their spears in defensive position up until my random command. "… you understand us?"

"What kind of stupid question is that? And what's with the get-up?" I asked back.

They behaved as if I were a wild animal about to devour their innards or something, so I returned the odd behavior by scanning them head to toe. The armor consisted of plated boots, chest armor, and gauntlets, with leather and chainmail covering the rest of their torsos and legs, save for the upper arms, which were left bare. More noticeable were the designs carved into the metal, indescribable in similes, but as a metaphor the lines stretched and curved in vines of fire.

They never answered my questions, but they did feel brave enough to lower their weapons and quicken their approach. In fact, they felt so brave as to grab my arms and force me to my feet without so much as a word of warning.

"Hey, watch it! What, am I under arrest or something?"

The two paused to stare awkwardly before they wrestled my arms behind my back and held it there. I would have struggled more had I felt much threat from them, but at that moment they were exchanging words with one another, apparently puzzled that I spoke fluent English and wondering if it'd be wise to take me back for the "king" to see. I wanted to ask what they were going on about, to be honest, though I recognized that the answer would probably make less sense.

"He'd be amazed to see it," the younger one commented.

The older "guard" grunted, "He would be, but he might also be angry that we allowed one within the city borders."

I sighed. "He would," "He wouldn't," "He probably," was the majority of the conversation. I had tuned it out a couple minutes in to let my mind wander onto a more interesting topic and only tuned back in when the younger guard waved a hand in front of my face. He wore a puzzled expression, so I quirked a brow. He returned the look.

Finally they were moving, though regrettably that also involved dragging me along with them. I didn't know where they were taking me, yet now that mental shock had settled in, my confusion had settled down. For now I would accept this situation without explanation, but that "for now" meant I'd better get a damn good explanation soon or I'd go apeshit.

The forest continued on for some minutes, allowing a chance to gaze at the scenery and admire the majesty of nature. I hadn't seen a healthier forest. The thick leaves let flecks of sunlight spot the ground and would cause those speckles to dance when the wind picked up. However, I had seen a gate similar to the one that soon revealed itself through the trees. Goosebumps rose as I laid eyes on it, walking closer and closer to the point I was just outside the gate and waiting for it to open. The arch of the doorway and the stone of the walls remained as towering and eerie as before, minus the weathered appearance and plus engravings of twisting vines of fire. The ones on the gates were more intricate and complicated than on the armor.

It broke my focus on the intricacies of the design when the gates opened, stone grinding stone but not a word being said towards the various guards I could see situated at the top of this wall. We proceeded inside, but I soon knew that this gate only matched the last one in appearance. Last time I entered the gate, it'd been spacious, yes, but not this big. A whole town fit inside this one, not including what looked like a forest off in the distance and a palace of sorts sitting at the end of the long road I walked on.

The village teemed with life, women and men alike doing their daily chores of shopping or working while the children were left to play, chasing one another in various games or huddled together to decide on one. Shopkeepers haggled with possible customers, and the young adults took their turns lounging around and helping their family.

I hadn't noticed how my mood had drifted from its previous impatience to mellowness and nostalgia. This place had a homey atmosphere, and though they called it a city, I couldn't call it more than a large town.

I would have indulged in scrutinizing the place more, but it seemed being manhandled by their local police caught their attention easily. Having said that, many pairs of odd-colored eyes were turning to me in a mix of alarm and curiosity, so I pried my own pair away from the slowing crowds to examine this path up to the… castle? Palace? What would you call a giant yet majestic mass of reddish stone shaped into living quarters? It lacked the true features of the classic castle but it held the same air of elegance and wealth in the curves and design.

A tower was most prominent; a rounded tower with a pointed steeple roof, then a winding stone structure wrapping around to connect to a lower tower not half the height of the other. Below the first tower was an arch to signal a doorway, and behind that all rested a larger cylinder shape that encompassed most of the mass. Various sized rectangular growths came from the main structure, some going outward while most went up to increase its height until the overall building was twice as tall as that first tower.

I couldn't help but gape, mesmerized by this strange building. Even when up close, my head just followed the pointed roof of the first tower, and at the end of the walk, I had to crane my neck to keep it in view. Despite the men gripping my wrists tight enough to limit the circulation to my fingers, I hardly noticed when seeing the door—similar to the gates—open without a word to allow entrance into a long, and very red, hallway.

As we passed through, I took my time in examining this place. The walls themselves were not vibrant red or even a simple dark red. Instead, it looked of polished wood, the material itself appearing chocolaty-maroon in color. It was a rich mix of brown and red, not overpowering, and helped emphasize both the various paintings on the walls and the long rouge rug signaling where guests were supposed to walk. Since the tiling beneath the rug held a similar hue to the walls, it made everything off the given path feel off-limits.

We reached another pair of double doors, though this opened before we had a chance to stop, yet that missing pause made the revealed scene all the more stunning. Before my eyes was a fiery throne room. Flecks of true red were placed in all the right places to give off a feel of flames yet subtle as it did so. The throne chair did not have a wild shape or vibrant color other than its cushioning, and if stripped of all its decorations and color, the room did not twist and wind like fire. The carpet led up to a series of low steps, then fanned out to encircle the throne chair where a man sat in the midst of various shades of red, maroon, and woody brown. The only true difference in color scheme was the bands of white tile following the edges of the carpet up until its stopping point.

In my breathless attempt to absorb the environment into my memory, I hadn't noticed immediately that the guards had led me to the bottom of the steps, stopped me there, then knelt down to show respect. It wasn't until I stopped looking around in various directions and paid attention that the man in the chair stood.

Holding an air of power, his gaze bore into mine with strange force, rosy irises resonating his strong will within the handsome but aged face. Other than the trimmed brown hair and odd color of his eyes—I sensed a reoccurring theme—the only thing worthy of notice was his attire, appearing as majestic as his throne. No cape was donned, but a decorative silver armor laid over his chest and shoulders, as well as his hips and shins. Red markings embellished it further, as well as the fine materials that the armbands, boots, and clothes were made from. At this point I was growing sick of the color red despite my own attire donned the same color.

"You are dismissed," the man stated, bold but calm.

I peeked back when the guards stood in silence and headed back the way they came, but once my eyes returned to the man—who I suspected was this "king" they'd been referring to—I found an intense glare aimed at me. By now, I had lost patience in waiting for an answer and found myself swimming in my own cluelessness. I just couldn't comprehend the circumstances.

"Where do you come from?" he asked, breaking the silence with his cold words.

"Uh…" I thought on the question. "New York?"

He stalled on the response, his cold mask falling away for a brief moment to reveal a kinder man than first implied.

"New… York?" he repeated.

I nodded, eager to get an in-depth reaction in order to assuage my suspicions that he had absolutely no clue where that was; "Yeah. We're in New York, right?" Seeing his blank stare, I felt my hopes deflate further. "… Right?"

The man shook his head, more to get back on subject than to answer my question, but with it all, his glare reformed, "What is your purpose in these lands, human? You trespass onto Hellican territory."

"Purpose?" I repeated. I flung my arms up in the air, already exasperated with the situation. "I don't even know how I got here! And what's with the little 'human' bit tagged on the end? You make it seem like I'm the only—"

"There are more around here?" he interrupted, expression going near horrified. At this point I lost the willpower to finish my sentence, too baffled by his reaction to remember what I was saying. He put a hand over his lips as he thought, worry tracing his features. "This is not a good time. Increasing patrols seems the only option."

"Uh… s'cuse me," I began, raising my hand as if in class. Getting his attention, less stern and more confused, I let my own confusion show. "You're talkin' like we're some sort of dangerous animal."

"In basic essence, yes, you are, though fortunately or unfortunately, you are more intelligent than normal beasts."

The quick response didn't throw me off so much as one little detail within his answer. He must've read on my face the way my mind struggled to decipher the meaning since he spoke up again.

"You seem confused. Was my answer too complicated?"

My eyebrow twitched at the unintended jab at my intelligence, but I refrained from getting snippy to avoid going off topic and instead scratched at my head.

"I just got thrown off on the 'you are' bits," I pointed out. He showed no reaction to this, so I motioned between us. "You imply that we aren't the same species."

He blinked, "That is because we are not the same species."

My stupefied look deepened as I slowly lost hope in making sense of this place, "But… you… I…. what?"

I ran both hands through my hair, eyebrows knitted together, scraping at my scalp in frustration. No matter how I looked him over, I saw a human there: four limbs, human anatomy, hair on his head, two eyes, one nose, one mouth, feet, hands and opposable thumbs. The only oddity I spotted at the time was his eye color, and that wasn't anything to disprove his humanity.

He had long let the serious mask drop, almost looking as if my own confusion was contagious and twisted his face around to stare as puzzled as me.

There was only one solution to this question; my eyes narrowed in suspicion, "If ya aren't human… then… what are you?"

"A demon," he replied, regaining his noble visage and fixing his posture. "Just like everyone else in this city."

I could only stare at the moment, digesting the words slowly in a subconscious attempt to delay the instant where the meaning behind it would register. In the minutes it took to finalize in my brain, the king had once more lost the noble look to watch in a mix of curiosity and puzzlement.

It finally sunk in.

Turning my back to him, I rubbed my temples hard and closed my eyes, "I get it now. This is one of my more bizarre dreams, I must admit. Must be because of the amount of exercise before I fell asleep." I paused the thought to look over my shoulder at the man. "How did I create that guy? Those guards… Fuck, what the hell made me think up a red palace-castle thing?"

Listening to my mutterings, he cocked an eyebrow and almost tilted his head, "What are you muttering about? I am not some figment of your imagination."

"Shut up, figment! I'm trying to wake up!"

The king lifted both brows, looking unimpressed, but a shorter and older man popped up from the side of the throne chair, his gait brisk as he strode to be beside his king.

"Show respect when you speak to the king!" he scolded, piping up rather late into the conversation. "Such impudence is punishable by law!"

My head swerved around to display my forming scowl, balling a fist, "I know why you're in my head. You're the male version of Mrs. I've-gotta-spit-all-over-Emma! Goddamn it! I can't escape you, can I?" I paused, stared, then turned around fully to point at the new face. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

"I've been here the whole time, you twit! And watch your mouth!"

At this point the king was drowning in his confusion, left to watch the squabble between his personal assistant and me, but when the arguing lingered over my comment about the assistant camouflaging into the background like a chameleon, the man lifted his hand in front of his assistant with a brisk movement. Just as soon the yapping man silenced and bowed his head. With no more ammo to fuel the fight, my own comments stopped, and I was left to meet the now stern gaze of the king.

"I do not have time to waste on meaningless spats. Tell us what your purpose is on Hellican land and I may release you. If you refuse to tell or your answer is… unbefitting…" His expression fell dark. "Have no doubt in your mind that I will execute you on the spot."

It was just a dream, but the force of his words was as potent as the strength of his gaze. I ended up unable to do more than stare at the man, not sure how to react.

"Hey, dad!" a familiar voice came. "The guards said somethin' about leaving you alone but I wanted to—" They stopped midsentence as if belatedly noticing my presence. "Oh."

I turned my head at the same time the king turned his, a teenaged boy standing in front of a hallway to my right. The way he was frozen halfway through a step while examining me from top to bottom, I knew he had paused once spotting me. I would have gotten annoyed at his scrutinizing gaze, but the more I stared back, the more I recognized him from somewhere, which at this point, should've been impossible.

Loose-fitting black leggings covered his legs, and his shirt had muddy-red tribal marks embroidered into the gray fabric. Meanwhile a redder headband wrapped around his forehead and tied off in a knot above his ear. Even with his dark brown hair hanging in his eyes, I could tell two things: he looked like a younger version of the king, and his irises were ruby red. The color caught my attention the most, especially how it seemed to catch the light when he blinked.

His displayed mood matched the stern one of his apparent father, the king, then switched to puzzled when noticing my long stare. His head tilted in response, a puppy-like confusion, but the movement caused his earrings to bounce, light glinting off the red crystals.

My shoulders lifted upon recognizing him. I could recall those earrings clear as day from back in the woods when they caught the sunlight in his hasty retreat. That specific moment seemed slowed in time within my memory.

I opened my mouth to ask him why he ran, but the king spoke faster; "Go back to your room, Reiden. You know the risks of being near a human, and I cannot put you in unnecessary danger."

"And honestly, go put on some decent clothes," the assistant chipped in.

Ignoring the command, even when his father repeated it, he strolled straight up to me, his gait calm and hands in his pockets to showcase his casual nature. Having been so acute on his earrings before, I noticed the way they swayed in time with his pace, then swung in small circles when he came to a stop beside me. I halfway expected words to come out of his lips, but instead, he leaned forward and started sniffing my shoulder. I jerked away out of reflex, brows furrowed once more as I tried to comprehend what he was trying to do.

His head tilted at my reaction, earrings bouncing again, but he went back to examining my appearance.

"Reiden, listen to me for once, will you? Please leave," the king ordered again, exasperated with the disobedience.

Once more, Reiden brushed the command off without so much as acknowledging his father had said anything, "Hey, dad. What's with her scent?"

"Her scent?"

He turned his ruby eyes to his father, "Yeah. She's got the human scent and all, but she kinda smells like a Hellican flower too."

"A what now?" I half-asked.

Surprise lit both the king's and assistant's face at the boy's statement, but when no one seemed to notice my deepening befuddlement, I dropped the topic since I knew this wasn't going to go anywhere at this point. However, other questions arose, so I flicked Reiden's forehead, getting a short yip and a pouty "Hey!" from him.

He rubbed the spot where I flicked him, irked, "What do ya want?"

"You were poking me with a stick earlier and ran away. What for?"

Reiden's eyes flashed with alarm, but just as quick his father interrupted, the boy going stiff and grinning sheepishly as the king spoke; "What in god's name were you doing outside the city walls?"

"Outside the walls? Why would I ever be out there? She must be mistaken," he lied, grinning wide, but then he smacked me hard in the back. "Right?"

I did not comply. In fact, I got pissed off at the painful smack to my spine and avenged myself by punching the back of his head. One loud "OW!" later, a familiar camouflaged assistant popped back into view, this time pointing in anger.

"Watch yourself, human! If demon commoners cannot strike royalty, then you certainly cannot either!"

"Oh, stuff it, ya bald-headed virgin! He hit me first!"

Reiden stood to the side rubbing where he still felt my fist, eyes watering from the pain as he listened to the oddly entertaining argument between the assistant and me, but much like the last time, the king silenced his aide and in turn silenced me. This time around his subordinate did not refrain from commenting and turned his remarks towards his ruler, near demanding that he take some action against me for my behavior. The king dismissed most of the demands but did tell me to watch my language. The aide was not satisfied and continued his quest, so I gave up. Folding my arms and waiting with narrowed eyes, my foot tapped to vent out some of my frustration. This whole experience had become a mess, and the only logical explanation I'd found was I was trapped inside some bizarre dream.

My attention turned to Reiden when I spotted him sniffing me again, this time a smile curling his lip. He paused when he noticed my weird look, ruby eyes flitting up to meet mine. Something clicked in place; I couldn't tell what, but in the brief moment we exchanged stares, something within me shifted.

And then he abruptly stood upright and turned to his father with a light-hearted grin, "Can I have her, pops?"

"Pops?" the king repeated, frowning at his son. He had motioned his aide to be silent to talk to him. "If you refuse to address me as 'your majesty' until you inherit my throne, at least call me father. You shouldn't let yourself fall into informal habits… Speaking of, go to your room and change your attire."

"Whatever."

I blinked, but seeing that the king hadn't pointed out the obvious flaw in his statement, I spoke up, "Hey! I ain't a dog! You can't just have me!"

Reiden waved me off, "Sure I can. As long as I have pop's permission."

"'Your Majesty'!" the king corrected.

"Whatever!"

I almost was too stunned to think of a proper sentence, and it wouldn't have been a stretch to say that being dismissed so lightly insulted my integrity.

"Sorry, boy, you don't just claim someone as your possession!" I argued, all the more enraged when seeing my statement surprised him. How spoiled was he? "You want me to hang around and play puppy? Pay me!"

"You've got a serious attitude problem, don't you?" he retorted, his good humor gone from view.

I sneered, "I've got an attitude, but I'm not the one with a problem. Who's the one treating people like property again?"

He set his jaw stubbornly, finally insulted, "You've got some nerve talking to me like that!"

My finger twitched, the haughty tone grating against my nerves enough that I had to physically resist the desire to break his nose.

As if sensing this, a dried voice cackled, and though I paid it little attention, both Reiden and the King turned their heads, the boy forgetting the argument for a moment. Curious about their reactions, I followed their gazes, which led my eyes to a wrinkled old woman in odd gold robes that draped over her head and limbs like curtains.

"Be at ease," she spoke, her voice soothing for its old age. "She behaves with no ill will. It is her upbringing and is of her own world."

"Her own world? She isn't from the human clans around here?" Reiden asked back, head tilting.

"That is correct, young prince."

The word "prince" stuck out in mind. My attention turned to the boy for a second, feeling silly for just realizing that he was the prince; as royal as the king. Reiden turned his eyes to me, once again locking gazes for what felt like a long time. The shift didn't occur again, but now it felt easier to simply stare back with no desire to speak. He broke eye contact first this time, blinking as if to clear his vision. I suspected he had noticed the sensation too.

The king sighed, rubbing his head as he sat back down in his chair, "I'm afraid you must explain this further, but first things first: you say that she is harmless?"

"Correct, Your Majesty."

Reiden smiled brightly at the news, "So can I have her, pops?"

The king slammed fist against the armrest, "It's 'Your Majesty'!"

"Whatever!"

"You can have her on one condition then," he claimed. Arms folding, he showed no will to budge in this condition of his. "Address me properly. It will put you in good habit."

Reiden rolled his eyes, but getting a sharp look, he bowed with a hand over his chest, but the motion seemed satirical considering the way he held out his other hand.

"Your Majesty," he said, tone dripping with sarcasm to match his cheeky grin.

"Such sass, boy," the king commented, sighing in exasperation and shaking his head. Still, he shooed him away. "Good enough. Go and change your clothes."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I hollered, infuriated that he had just passed me onto this… snob! "Don't I have any say in this?"

"Actually," Reiden gladly answered. "No, you don't."

Unfortunately, before I had a chance to slam a fist through his chest cavity, he had my arm in an iron-like grasp and pulled me out of the room in a rush. There was no time to examine my surroundings like earlier, leaving blurred memories of hallways that mirrored the entrance in scheme and outlay, but after being dragged down a ten-mile hall in too short an amount of time, he jerked me to the side out of the blue and practically threw me inside a room. Though I'd barely avoided falling on my ass, he ignored his rough handling, shut the door behind him, and hopped up onto a bed.

Excitement glittered in his eyes, patting the area next to him, "Sit! Sit!"

My attention was to the room though, examining every detail and not missing the fact that his bedroom was six times the size of any normal one. The chamber followed the same color scheme as the rest of the building, chocolate maroon wood for walls and rosy red carpet soft beneath our feet.

Aside from the giant window across the room, there were several smaller windows that lined up high on the wall to distribute the sunlight evenly. For furnishing, all it consisted of was his overly fanciful bed, a vanity, and beside that, a carefully carved dresser that dwarfed anything I had ever owned. In place of chairs, giant pillows laid scattered on the floor for people to sit, though from their unused state, I figured Reiden was the only one to even see them. To my disdain towards his spoiled rotten living quarters, I even spotted a door that I doubted led to anything but a massive walk-in closet.

"Hey, girl!" Reiden hollered. I spotted an annoyed pout on his face now, and his hand gave a few hard pats to the bed again. "Sit down!"

My eyes narrowed in warning towards his attitude, but seeing his resolve didn't so much as budge and instead engaged me in a stare-down, I took a deep breath and let it go. I walked up to his bed to sit, but before I did, I stalled right beside it, scanning over the layers of silk drapes, tied only loosely to the four bedposts supporting the canopy. I felt the urge to finger the material… just to confirm it was as soft as it seemed.

"You're a commoner, aren't you?"

The matter-of-fact tone soured my mood in an instant, and I tossed him another scowl, but he surprised me by having a clear face. He wasn't being snobby or disdainful of the fact I didn't have status. He merely took the hint when watching me stare at the materials of his bed. I put my attitude in check and sat at last, deciding to brush the matter off. Somehow I knew it'd turn ugly if it continued any further.

When he only stared at me, I sighed, "So what did you want?"

He perked up as if he'd forgotten his original goal, then popped up onto his knees in excitement, leaning closer, but aside from the sudden invaded space, the big kid-like grin threw me off. Leaning away was the most I could do, too puzzled to think up a proper reaction.

"Hm… This is the first time I've been this close to a human. Not counting earlier this morning, of course!" he began. Everything about him hinted at his contained enthusiasm, like his lifted shoulders and light expression. He offered a hand, leaning away as if to straighten his posture. The kiddy smile still lit his face. "My name is Reiden Herroyne of Hellico, son of Kinnder Herroyne, the king of Hellico."

I quirked a brow. Despite the animation to the words, everything about the formal statement seemed preprogrammed, "Hey."

His smile fell from view, now expectant and waiting impatiently for something, but before I could ask what, I realized his hand was still extended since I had ignored it in my half-hearted response. Embarrassed, I took his hand finally, getting an approving smile and a nod as we shook hands. I had to push back the irritation that arose, wondering why it felt like he was treating me like a dog learning to shake paws.

However, even when the shake stopped, he kept his grip around my hand, once more losing the smile and allowing another silence to fall over us before hinting he was waiting again, this time lifting both brows and clearing his throat in impatience.

When I made no reaction other than to attempt pulling my hand free, he huffed, "Your name, girl?"

This time I couldn't resist clenching my jaw at the condescending tone, "Emma."

The bright smile shot right back up and he released my hand, "Weird name! But it's decent for a commoner's." My finger twitched in another desire to punch a hole in his chest. I guess that was his version of a compliment. Still, he tapped his lip as he thought, staring straight in my eyes. "Hm. Ah, I remember now. Tell me! What are the hum—ahem, people like where you come from?"

Weirdo. Out of all the things I could have gotten—and did get—offended about, he thought addressing my "people" by species would be a bad idea. Did he simply not realize it half the time when he said something rude? I rolled my eyes, though I gave him some credit now. He tried to be considerate, even if he failed to notice the times he did mess up.

"They're… like people?" I tried to answer. Getting a weird look from him, I shrugged and rolled my eyes again. "I'm a particularly bitter individual, so what I think of everyone is not the spokesman's opinion. Having said that, I think the women are mostly fair-weather friends or bitches, and the men are… well, assholes." I huffed at the memory of the last guy I'd run into before falling into this dream world. "To me, anyway. Probably my own damn fault though."

Initially he'd worn a face of surprise at the description, perhaps expecting something more positive and uplifting, but by the end of my final statement, his head had tilted, "What do you mean by that?" Before giving a chance to respond, he perked up, eyes lighting with realization. "Oh. You're a lesbian."

I drew back a fist and nailed him in the gut, so once he doubled over on his bed groaning and holding his stomach, I turned my head away and folded my arms; "Your never-ending assumptions piss me off."

"You can't just hit me when you're mad!" he barked, managing to prop himself up. When I looked, pain still traced his expression but he had formed a glare. "Don't you have any respect for royalty?"

"I don't give a crap if you're royalty. You keep jumping to dumbass conclusions."

He coughed as he finished sitting up, ruby eyes filled with stubbornness, "I'll be the mature one and drop this subject peaceably, but can I at least ask you about your family without getting punched?"

All at once my growing aggravation fizzled down, expression dropping to thoughtful. The topic itself caused my mind to drift off to pleasant memories, so my gaze strayed towards the large window. I could see the bustling town far below. Had he brought me up stairs?

He noticed the change in my mood but only tilted his head, waiting in patience for an answer until it became apparent that I had lost focus on reality.

"Emma?" he asked. When I only blinked, he placed a hand on my shoulder to shake me a bit. "Something the matter?"

I let out a calm sigh, eyes closing as I brushed his hand away; the motion took him off guard, causing a frown. I only glimpsed his face from the corner of my eye, but I still saw his brows knit together, almost looking hurt by the action.

Even with that pang of guilt, I moved on, "Next question."

He watched my unmoving gaze, seeming taken in by this curiously secretive subject but understanding fully well that attempts to pry would result in me clamming up further. For that, he did me the favor of moving on without asking, though I noticed a glint of intrigue had formed in his stare.

In spite of knowing I had no problem upper-cutting him, he kept a brave front and asked questions to his heart's content. After a half-hour of this I came to the conclusion that he was a chatterbox and had a childish mannerism, which came off as strange for someone his age. I had watched him the whole time, usually giving short and unhelpful answers to his long interrogations, but he had no trouble thinking up a new topic to ask about should his previous wonderings come to a dead end.

It was always a tedious thing too: hobbies people had, the jobs people worked, or the type of homes they owned. Pets especially interested him since the "demons" here only kept livestock and left the other animals to their own devices. The topic on pets brought a flurry of "Why" questions, like why would someone housebreak a wild animal or why didn't the animal try to escape or why it didn't attack the ones housebreaking them.

All the while he lounged about the room, restless as he spoke, and at several parts he got up to walk around or find a new place to sit down and lay. First he had laid back on his bed with his arms sprawled, then curled up on his side hugging a pillow, then went around to different parts of his room to sit or lay on the giant pillows. My guess was the pillows usually were organized and collected together, but him using them caused them to scatter. He'd kick pillows that he felt were too close or use his hands or feet to drag them closer to use as a head or footrest. More than that, he'd roll around and shift position, one time positioning himself to incline himself backwards, so his shirt started to slip up to reveal his stomach and his hair hung out of his face for once.

With all that he did, I might have thought he found the conversation boring, save for the fact he did all the talking. Some hours passed, and at long last a pause presented itself. He had buried himself under a mountain of the pillows so just his legs were sticking out from beneath, so while I waited for the next question, I stared at his bare feet, having laid on my stomach and rested my cheek in a palm.

After a minute of this my face was frozen in place with a quirked brow and overall weird look. Did he fall asleep?

When nothing happened, I pushed myself onto my hands and knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to stand. My shoes were off now so I felt the unfair softness to the carpet as I tip toed up to the pile of pillows. I'm not sure why I felt the need to sneak regardless of whether he was asleep or not, but even so, I crouched down by his legs and raised a hand to poke one of the pillows. After a quick bout of hesitation, I instead reached out to move it.

A knock at the door interrupted, which normally wouldn't have perturbed me, except the suddenness had almost startled a yip from me.

"Come in," Reiden answered, loud but lazy.

The door opened enough for a servant to poke her head in, strawberry blonde hair curling beautifully around her heart-shaped face, "Dinner is almost ready, prince."

Reiden shot upright, tossing all the pillows off, "Perfect! I was out of questions! And hungry."

I drew a blank. He seemed energetic enough, and in fact had a large grin on his face as he thought about the food. At least the sudden silence had an explanation to it.

He went to stand, but the servant bowed low in apology, grabbing his attention, "Your father ordered me to bring you your food, so you needn't get up."

He was that spoiled? Really? He didn't even have to leave his room to eat? It took all in my power not to gape, wondering if he'd even be hand-fed by the blonde. Surprisingly, Reiden's cheery face dropped to suspicious, visibly displeased with the turn of events.

"Why?" he demanded. "I don't like eating in my room. He knows that."

The girl averted her gaze, which caught my eye, especially when her voice trembled, "I'm s-sorry, my prince. He didn't tell me why."

Reiden's lip jutted out, and he rolled his eyes only seconds before shooing her off, "Whatever. Go away."

I shot a dark look at him, but when he received it, he blinked and tilted his head in bewilderment. At this rate I expected to assault him in a blind fury within a few days. However when the woman left, he popped to his feet anyway and strolled over to the door to leave, whistling to himself.

"Hey, don't you want your food? If it gets here when you're gone, I'm eating it all, and I won't feel bad about it," I threatened.

He stopped halfway out the door, earrings bouncing at the sudden halt, "I don't know about you, but I'm not waiting for a clumsy maid to come back with half destroyed food." Seeing my blank face, he wagged a finger. "As much as I like be waited on by pretty girls, the quality of the food is more important." My stare sharpened, but something about his mood shifted, and he tossed a shy glance to the side. "Besides, I like eating with my dad."

Dad, huh? I recalled the several times that the king had ordered him not to address him so casually, so I couldn't grasp the attraction of being near that type of uptight parent during a meal. It might've been a complex, yearning for his father's attention due to many years of inattention.

The idea floated off once Reiden restarted his whistle and stepped outside his room, only to poke his head back in.

"Gunna come?" he asked, but a smile sprung to life as he let out a light laugh. "And don't try threatening to eat all my food. You would throw up before finishing your own portion, let alone mine!"

I blinked, attempting to imagine how much food I'd have to eat to get sick to my stomach, but seeing him pouting at my stalling, I huffed and got up to follow.

"Fine!" I swiftly strode out the room after him, he half hopping and skipping along. "Where are we going though?"

"To the kitchen!" he declared.

I shook my head, getting an odd feeling about this, but as if thinking I doubted his abilities, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders to pull me up close, head ducking down low as if in secrecy. A mischievous grin lit his face, gone from kiddy and light-hearted to cunning and… dangerous almost.

"The raid will commence once we reach a pair of white-lined doors," he began, voice deeper than usual. One hand pointed up ahead and the other shifted to hook around my neck, his grin widening to show his teeth, of which, the canines appeared sharper like fangs. "It's just around the corner, but do not be deceived! This will not be easy, and we're likely to get caught."

"Then why—?"

"Silence!" he ordered, breaking out of the huddle to hold a hand in my face. I resisted another urge to smack him. He cackled, letting the arm fall to his side and meeting my gaze, ruby irises glistening with adventure. "But if you must know, the higher the risk, the bigger the thrill. Especially if we actually get away with it!"

I shook my head, stunned, "Wait, what?"

"No time!" he claimed, and he grabbed my arm before I could escape, dragging me down the hall towards the destination and a fist in the air, not caring that I stumbled at the rough jerk forward and bumped into him. "For food!"

"N-No! What was the part about getting away with it?"

"Oh, it's nothing serious; just that I've never made a clean escape. Not even once. These chefs are curiously violentfor folks in a relaxing profession."

Goosebumps rose at the images of angry cooks chasing us with large carving knives. It didn't help when Reiden's grasp tightened around my arm and suddenly jerked me down into a kneeling position with him. I went to ask, but his other hand pressed over my lips, ruby eyes flitting over for a brief second. We were at a door with white strips outlining the doorless frame.

While his grip limited the circulation in my arm and fingers ensured I stayed silent, we listened to the quietude of the halls, any noise emphasized to our acute ears. Voices came from inside, the chefs discussing the recipes while chops and scrapes hinted others were working on the meal already. The casual and idle noise from unsuspecting workers warped the atmosphere to feel all the more sneaky and devious. At that point, I noticed the two of us had synchronized our breathing in the tension.

Odd. I blinked and held my breath to break the synchronization, then returned my attention to Reiden who had replaced the sly look with concentration. His eyes stared into space so I knew it was the noises he had his focus on, yet it still surprised me when he abruptly dragged me forward with him and dashed into the room, staying low. I almost tripped, but managed to get under the preparation table safely. Nothing seemed amiss.

His concentration didn't break though, listening to the movements and watching the feet that walked by and lingered around the table that hid us. My own observation proved that there were at least a dozen people in this room, and while spacious, it wasn't incredibly so, which made it unlikely that Reiden had chosen that perfect moment to dash by dumb luck. Had he memorized their foot patterns?

He moved again, cautious and hesitant, towards the edge of our cover where one of the cooks had paused in chopping to chat with a coworker, but when he dared to peek up, he just as soon jerked away and froze—my body went rigid in response. After a second, the cook walked away from the spot without so much as a peek under the table, so the prince loosened and breathed. The next time he peeked out, he waved me to follow and dashed, so I stayed hot on his tail. Now our cover consisted of us pressing our backs to a stone island counter to wait for our next chance.

I found that Reiden's impish smile had returned, eyes glistening at the thrill of the mission, lame as the prize was. Still, I managed a smile of my own. Funny guy.