My heart beats — too strong, too fast. My legs ache, and every step feels like torture. From one of my eyes… I can’t see. The red — my blood — blurs my vision, and I stumble… damn it. That snow, once so white and soft, is now stained with a scarlet red, and I shiver on the cold ground.

My gaze lingers on the floor; my mind spins too much for my reasoning to return quickly. When I hear a sound — a branch snapping — my heart skips for a moment, and I turn just in time to see him. I stare at him as he approaches me: calm, cold. He kneels, and his eyes meet mine. His hand reaches for the blood staining my cheek.

He remains silent, watching me as if he could see all my secrets through my eyes. And, God… how I love. Even though the arrow in my abdomen was fired by his own hands. It wasn’t his fault. No. His father — that tyrant — ordered them to kill me, to hunt me down.

Why? Because I am the heir of a kingdom that was taken from my family by force. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be alive. But I am… and I love the one I should hate the most.

He raises his hand, observing the blood upon it. His lips curve into a faint, melancholic smile. His fingers move, spreading that blood — my own blood — across my lower lip. Our mouths, too close.

“The red means I love you.”