Chapter 61: Chapter 61

Avril's heart literally stopped beating as Dakar kissed her. Her lower abdomen constricted and she almost gasped for air, because her organs stopped working. She didn't know when she closed her eyes, neither did she know how long the kiss lasted. All she knew was that she was being kissed by the man she loved.

Finally, it was over. And Dakar took his head backwards, then stared at her eyes.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” he said.

“There are just normal eyes. Unlike yours that is sparkling green,” she replied and he chuckled.

“Fiorella, listen to me,” he stated and took a breath in.

“I want the best for you. And it seems hard to believe because I shouldn't be in that state. But trust me, I care about you even more than I expected to. And I want to be even something more.” He held her hand with his hand that didn't have green paste on it.

“Fiorella, I...I like you.”

Avril blinked repeatedly and tried hard to clear her blurry vision. Tears were forming and she had nothing to do with it. It was like her body was getting touched by what he just said and was reacting to it on its own accord.

Dakar waited to see her reaction. He saw her complexion slowly turning into a shade of pink. He felt her breathing slowing down and how she tried to take back the tears. He lifted her hand up to his face, rubbed his thumb against the back and kissed it.

“Prince Dakar... I... Why? Why me? I'm just—”

“A lowly human?” he quoted what he once told her. Then he laughed.

“You're different, Fiorella. I haven't come across a woman so feisty, stubborn, strong-willed, fearless, yet tenderhearted like you are. But I guess, it's not really my doing that I find myself falling for you. It's just happening.”

“I love you, Dakar,” Avril heard herself saying as she looked through the green eyes of the present Dakar wearing those expensive clothes, to the ever shirtless one of the island—always going hunting with his bow and quiver of arrows, always making plans to cook something for her, always scolding her for her laziness. She loved that Dakar... deeply. And the eyes of the one she was staring at right now, were his eyes. The body his body, the hair his hair.

Prince Dakar knew she was looking into him as she uttered those words. Somehow, it hurt him that the present personality of him didn't deserve that love. And the old him that owned that love, was lost in a chasm of fear and pain. What could he do to bring him back out? He was as confused as the word confusion itself. Dakar got knocked out of his thoughts when he heard Avril crying. His eyes widened as he saw the tears freely flow.

“Fiorella,” he called and hugged her to himself, not minding all the green paste rubbing on his clothes.

“This is hard. This is so hard,” she cried as she banged on his chest with her hand. He hugged her tighter as if to merge her with him, so he would feel her emotions instead.

“Why? Why can't you just remember me? All that time on the island, did it mean nothing to you? Why would you like Fiorella and not realize you had loved Avril,” she nagged as she hit him and stared him in the eye.

“I... What do you mean?”

Avril stilled and exhaled.

“Look at me, Dakar. Look at me and tell me you don't know me. Tell me you never met me before. Tell me you have no idea who Avril is,” she demanded. Time seemed to stop ticking as the two looked at each other. Avril waited for him to answer her. But, how could Dakar lie to her?

He smiled and held her arm, just over her elbow.

“Sleep, sweetheart,” he whispered and pressed underneath her elbow joint. Her system shut down and her eyes closed as she drifted into unconsciousness. He held her and carried her to the longer couch. After laying her down, and reapplying the healing paste on her, he gently left the cabin. Afar off, he saw Verona and the maidens with his men standing. He beckoned to them with his index finger, and they hurried over. Verona sped there and tried to peep into the cabin.

“Fiorella...” she called in a mumble, as if to ask him about her.

“She's asleep now. When she's up, make sure she eats something. Her bruises are not that bad, so she should heal by then. Also, I'll be back in the evening to take her back to the Palace,” Dakar stated. Verona's eyes peered at him.

“Take her back to the Palace...she said she wanted that?” she asked with her eyes still peering at him, as if she was trying to read him. As a matter of fact, she was. But of course, Dakar was a closed book.

“She didn't have to. I'm not leaving her here so she could die.”

The guards walked past Verona into the cabin to arrange the small boxes. The Prince was still going to make use of them so they just covered them up.

“The rules of this Tournament are clear. Except someone breaks the rules, Fiorella's not dying. You don't know how tough that girl is!” Verona argued and Dakar smiled at her.

“So what you're saying is I should leave her to continue, right?” he asked.

“No, what I'm saying is you should let her do whatever she wants. If she wants to go with you this evening, fine. Though I highly doubt that, knowing the kind of friend I have.”

Dakar looked at Verona with piercing eyes. Then, he nodded and scratched his chin.

“I'll be back in the evening,” he said and turned to the wooden stairs.

“Prince Dakar,” Verona called and he looked back at her.

“Someone was responsible for what happened earlier. Are you going to find that person?” she inquired.

“I already did,” he answered with a smirk, then he walked away with his men. Aida and Gia ran to Verona immediately.

“Verona, how is Fiorella? What happened? Why is the Prince looking like he would open the gates of hell?” Gia question hastily. Verona exhaled.

“It seems her old Prince is resurfacing,” she whispered. Aida gasped.

“He's getting his memory back?” she whispered with bulging eyes.

“No, his memory is the one getting him back,” Verona answered, looked at the back of the receding Prince then entered the cabin. Aida's brows creased in confusion.

“His memory is the one getting him back? What in heaven does that mean?” she asked Gia who shrugged.

“Let's go inside. Mi lady might need our help,” Gia said instead and entered, leaving Aida still standing confused and trying to understand what Verona said.

**

Thirty minutes later, Prince Dakar had changed into a leather jacket, tied his hair in a loose bun and was heading towards the medieval dungeon of the palace. He hadn't gone there in forever, and didn't know he would be going to pay a visit to people who hurt Avril. He sat in his car and took a deep breath in. He opened the glove box and picked a cigar from rolls of about five of them. He stared at it and rubbed his hand against his face.

“What a life,” he muttered. He lit it up and was going to start smoking when he saw Camper standing right in front of the car. His friend looked at him through the windshield and ruffled his hair. Dakar stared back, then opened the door to the passenger seat. Camper hurriedly sat in.

“Where did you disappear to immediately we arrived?” he asked after settling down. Dakar took a drag and closed his eyes, as he felt his spirit energize and break free from the darkness brooding inside of him. His friend stared at him worriedly before he opened his eyes.

“Fiorella. I learnt she joined the Tournament,” Dakar answered.

“Oh wow, that's great. I hope she makes it to the finals,” Camper replied and Dakar gave a snort to that.

“Make it to the finals? They'll just kill her. She was looking awful as I reached. Thank God I came on time, she would have been a victim of s£xual assault too,” he ranted and took another drag. Camper looked at his friend and smiled.

“Fiorella always has a way of riling up your deepest emotions,” he said and chuckled.

“I'm going to pay those guys a visit. They're at the dungeon.” Dakar started the car and used one arm to drive it out of his castle premises.

“I keep thinking about a lot of things,” Camper muttered.

“Which is not good for you because you're an idiot.”

“Haha, I wish I was, Dakar. Anyway, I wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I found a lead on what's going on with you,” Camper revealed and Dakar took a quick glance at his friend.

“What?”

“You are hiding something from us all. And it's funny I quickly found out what it was.”

Dakar smiled and stuck the cigar between his teeth so he could use both hands to turn the wheel.

“Wow, I'm listening,” he replied his friend with amusement in his voice.

“Fiorella, or should I say Avril...was with you on that island. And now you're pretending to not remember her because you fear that she is in danger and the best way you can protect her is if you make the enemies think she had nothing to do with you while you were away,” Camper exposed and Dakar froze. He stopped the car and looked at him with surprise and shock.

“You can't prove what you just said,” Dakar stated, and Camper laughed.

“That handwritten letter in your room, it was her way of wishing you your fifty fourth anniversary. To be honest, it was very meaningful. No wonder you brought it all the way back to Remus,” Camper emphasized and relaxed on the car seat. He looked sideways and met the look of anger and amusement in Dakar's eyes.

“What? Did you think I wouldn't think things through and find my proof?” questioned Camper, totally ignoring the look in his friend's eyes.