Chapter Text
Dorian Havilliard, Crown Prince of Adarlan, walked in silence through the glass castle's halls after the council meeting, that stretched for hours, had finally ended.
The sun had just risen when he arrived into the council room and now most of his morning had been wasted in discussing frivolous topics till they got back to their favorite dreadful one, slavery.
It was a miracle Dorian hadn’t snapped.
Nehemia hadn't been invited again and some part of him was glad, if only to avoid the possibility of her noticing his current- condition.
His palms began sweating at the thought of being found out.
If his father hadn't stood up to dismiss them so suddenly, then he wasn't sure what would have happened. Dorian felt on edge and tired from it all and he couldn't talk about it with no one. Though there was a time when he might have trusted Chaol to keep his secret safe. But now it meant no good to think about it.
He was on his way to hide in his room when he saw the most stunning woman walking in the hallways.
He stopped stone cold, restraining himself from gawking.
She didn't belong to his mother’s court.
None of those ladies would get close to pants and tunics, less wear them in public with their hair unbound, nor with the same confidence she did.
Perhaps she was a foreign representative or new service? Her clothes didn't give away any inkling, except that his father’s office was by the end of the hall from where she came from.
Her white hair shined as snow in moonlight as she moved, her alabaster skin looked the softest, her delicate features were just too lovely to belong to this world and her body ... but something was off about her. Every piece of her screamed danger but he couldn't find the strength to stay away.
Dorian had barely been able to follow after her through some corridors when a hand crushed him against the wall.
“Why are you following me?” she asked, her voice bedroom-soft and full of threatening promises if he answered wrong. Up this close, he had a perfect view to take her in. And he came to the conclusion he’d never seen anyone so beautiful.
He dragged his hands up to show her he meant no harm. “You misunderstood me mylady. I mean no ill intention but to stare at you for a little longer." a bold thing to say that didn't make it less true.
Silence fell, and Dorian tried not to fidget under her scrutinizing stare. She narrowed her eyes, easing her grip on him a little. Dorian almost sagged with relief when her hand left him completely.
“Dorian Havilliard, Crown Prince of Adarlan, at your service” he bowed and tried with a shameless smile because he had the feeling a kiss on the hand, or any other gesture, wouldn't be appreciated.
“The prince,” she said unimpressed. She didn't bow back. In fact she looked bothered by his presence. No lady had shown dislike for him so outrightly before but that wouldn't stop him from trying.
“I don’t believe that we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, after all I wouldn't forget meeting such a beautiful woman.”
“I guess not.” she replied back, her tone already dismissive.
“If it's fine, would you allow me to walk with you for a while?” Dorian said, taking two long strides to match his pace with hers just as she paused to consider his request. After a pair of seconds, she gave him the barest of nods, walking forward gracefully.
Dorian took a moment to admire her, before hurrying back to her side. “Where are you heading to?”
“The main gate,” she answered unhurriedly, “To leave.”
So soon, he thought.
She kept walking, he cleared his throat “So what brought you here lady …” he realized she hadn't introduced herself. “I’m sorry, I didn't catch your name,”
Her full attention returned to Dorian. He waited for a while and when he was sure she wouldn't answer, she said “You can call me Manon. And the rest is none of your business.”
He smiled, memorizing deep in his mind her name. “So Manon, are you, by chance, working for my father?”
“Again,” she said, “It's none of your business.”
He laughed. “That means you are working for my father.”
Manon chuckled. “You’re too curious for your own good,”
“Don’t doubt it for a second,” he said, winking at her.
Despite herself she smiled and laughed! He made her laugh and it sounded like a midnight song to him.
With a cocky grin, he asked “Come on. Tell me more.”
If she indeed was a representative or a foreign lady who would visit or stay in Rifthold, then courting her wasn't out of reach.
He'd let go of Celaena and his feelings. No lady had caught his eye ever since.
Till today.
And maybe this was the final step to finally move on.
“If you really want to know, then ask the king … or the duke.”
Dorian leashed his temper back in place, before replying “Duke Perrington?”
Manon nodded, “As far as I understand, he knows what this … deal is about.”
He already found a dead end there.
He couldn't ask his father what it was about, or inquire more about it. Not when he would ask Dorian how in the wyrd he knew about something he apparently was so secretive about it and connect it back to this beautiful woman.
And then he’ll be assuming Dorian did more than talking with her. And though he wanted to do more than talking... it would take them nowhere and he’d get her in trouble.
Maybe Dorian was the only one in his father's council who didn't know what this was about again.
Decision after decision, the men in the council room hadn't looked surprised, upset or prone to disagree. Roland’s support was welcomed but not enough if Dorian decided to try to make a meaningful change in their kingdom.
Dorian’s temper flared so fast that he found himself struggling to calm down. His icy rage, growing and growing each day.
The temperature started dropping and he felt sick.
Not again , he thought.
What happened in the library and the stone hallways had no witnesses. This time, he was accompanied by a mysterious stranger in a public place where anyone could see.
“As the crown prince, I’m sure you know more than I do, though.”
They were down in the stone castle, which meant that nothing but a few hallways were on his way to say goodbye to Manon and then go back to safe solitude. Maybe he was still on time, he thought when she asked, “Assuming you are right about why I am here, do you have any specific advice for me?”
The question drew Dorian’s attention back to the present. She was looking at him curiously, when they heard a strong explosion. Both crouched down fast, covering their heads. Dorian looked around searching for the source.
The base by the window behind her had exploded.
No.
It had frozen and then exploded because of it.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, truly worried.
She checked her hands, arms and legs while her pretty hair moved with her.
“No.” She replied, shaking off her clothes and hair, looking a lot calmer than he felt. They stayed silent for a while, neither getting up from the floor “What was that?”
Dorian gained control back, he supposed, because nothing else happened after.
Manon didn't gasp or show any reaction that should alert him she'd noticed the ice around before it disappeared. She had no reason to believe he was the cause either.
“This weather,” he started “Feels like winter hasn't left us sometimes. And the castle is so old the cold gets to leek in but it's not as it is haunted or anything-”
He was about to help her stand when he noticed an envelope and a letter on the floor.
Dorian recognised the loyal seal open so he grabbed the letter first. It was addressed to a witch matron.
He let the letter fall back to the floor.
With trembling hands, he turned to watch Manon.
She was already on her feet, lifting the envelope and getting the letter inside.
If she was the messenger, the odds were she could be a witch.
Dorian stood, clearing his throat and adding more space between them.
A slow, wicked smile spread across her lips.
“I told you, didn't I princeling?”
Her teeth had changed, they shined as if made of metal. Of iron. Definitely a witch. What the hell was his father thinking?
“You’re too curious for your own good.”