Chapter 8 #2
But why would he have me stay in his room? Does he have another?
That wouldn’t make sense.
Does he plan to share this one? Because that is certainly not happening.
I rinse the soap off and step out of the shower. There isn’t a towel, so I use the beige tunic to dry off.
The tunic that probably belongs to Jax.
I roll my eyes.
Leaving the bathroom, I head straight for the dresser to grab a different clean item of clothing. I pull on a dark blue garment, similar to the beige one, only this one doesn’t have sleeves.
A knock sounds at the door.
My eyes fly to the knob. It doesn’t turn.
Another knock.
“Serafina?” the same female voice from earlier calls out. “Serafina, can I come in? I will not harm you.”
I hesitate, unsure what to make of this.
Clearly, Jax ended up telling her about me, otherwise, how would she know my name? But he also forced me into this room to hide me from her.
Didn’t he?
“Serafina, I have food. And water.”
And with that, my mouth is opening before I can think it through, saying the words, “Come in!”
The door swings toward me, revealing a girl only a few years older than I am. Her auburn hair falls to her waist, tucked behind a rounded ear that sticks out just a little. Her light green eyes scan me up and down.
She smirks. “Of course, you’d be pretty.”
Pretty? I’m not sure anyone has ever out right called me pretty before. There’s usually an if followed by the word.
You’d be pretty if…you thickened up a bit.
You’d be pretty if…your nose was smaller.
You’d be pretty if…you didn’t have dark circles under your eyes all the time.
But never simply…pretty. I smile at her.
“Hello…” My voice trails off because I don’t know her name.
“Ishla.” She dips her head. “It’s nice to meet you, Serafina. Hungry?” She raises a brow right as my stomach growls, and she laughs. It’s a nice sound.
“Extremely,” I tell her, eyeing the platter in her hands. It’s covered by something shiny so I can’t see what it is, but it smells delicious.
She takes a few steps into the room and sets the platter on the desk.
“Then, dig in.” She grins, lifting the lid. I don’t hesitate to rush to the table, picking up a chicken wing and biting into it.
“This is so good,” I groan, unable to stop myself.
She laughs again before heading back into the hall. She reenters with a large bag in her hands.
“I also brought some clothes.” Her gaze falls to the blue tunic I’m wearing. “These might fit you a bit better.” She puts the bag on the floor.
“Thank you,” I tell her between bites. “Thank you so much.”
She places her hand on her hip. “Don’t thank me, thank—”
“I will not be thanking him,” I say aggressively. “He locked me in here! With no explanation, basically shoved me in and turned the key.” Okay, so he didn’t exactly shove me, but he might as well have.
She chuckles. “Give him a chance. Ryjax means well, but his people skills need some work.”
I freeze at her words, and the bone I’m holding falls from my hand. “What did you just say?”
“I said, his people skills need some work. Believe it or not, he doesn’t get out much.” She grabs the quilt from the bed, replacing it with a different one that I didn’t even realize she was holding.
“No, the name,” I say. “What did you call him?”
Now it’s her turn to freeze. She closes her eyes and mouths a curse. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” She breathes out slowly. “You know what? I’m glad I told you. He can be so secretive sometimes. It isn’t healthy for him. So what if you know who he is? It’s better this way.”
I shake my head.
How could I be so stupid?
I knew the prince of Velegoria’s name was Ryjax. Ryjax Bray. And Jax is just a shortened version of that. But I had no idea the prince was an Essentari, a shadow wielder no less.
Is that common knowledge?
If so, how did I miss it?
The history books make it no secret that Ryjax’s great-, great-, great-, great-grandfather had been an Essentari. One of the most revered of all time. He could wield fire, same as me, and he was beloved by his people.
At least, that’s how the stories are written. I, for one, can’t stomach the idea of celebrating the man responsible for the creation of the trials. They began with him—the Pyro King—and now, over one hundred years later, they continue.
As far as I know, the royal family hasn’t had an Essentari since, but I suppose that’s not true anymore.
“Why didn’t he tell me he was the prince?” I ask, and she makes a clicking noise with her mouth.
“Don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”
I pull at my hair. I may despise the Elites. But I’ve always, always hated the royal family.
The royal family who approves of cruel games to manage the population. The royal family who requires their people to prove their worth, but by their rules, their values, and their desires. The royal family who favors one small group—the Elites—over the majority.
It isn’t right. It isn’t fair.
And Jax is one of them? No, not Jax, Ryjax. And not just one of them. He’s the crown prince, only child of the king, and next in line to rule.
“You don’t look very pleased,” Ishla says, studying my face.
“Because I’m not.” I glower, and she sighs.
“Like I said, he’s not as bad as he seems. Just give him a chance.”
“Is this his room?” I ask, remembering the soap and how it smells like him, but I feel silly for asking. Why would the prince have a room in the servants’ quarters?
“It is,” she says. “Well, sort of. He likes to come down here to escape.”
“Escape?”
“The pressures of the palace, I suppose. Again, you’d have to ask him.”
The pressures of the palace. I nearly scoff. Oh yes, life must be so hard for his royal highness who has everything he could ever want. Food. Water. Shelter. Hot showers.
He has no idea how difficult life can be.
I cross my arms and bite my tongue.
“He said you’re from Village 28,” she says, and I nod. “I’m from 26.”
Her admission startles me. Those from the villages aren’t allowed to step foot inside the Imperial City. But maybe an exception is made if you’re willing to work as a servant. I suppose it might be hard to find an Elite who wants to fill that particular position.
“Still hot as ever in the middle districts?” she asks, her question pulling me from my thoughts.
“Gets hotter by the day,” I tell her, and a ghost of a smile crosses her lips. “Do you miss it? Your village?”
I’m sure she’s allowed to return when she’s given time off, but Village 26 is far from the palace, meaning the journey there and back would take weeks. I wonder how often she’s allowed to visit.
“Every day.” She clears her throat. “Get some rest. I’ll be back in the morning with some breakfast.”
She gives me a soft smile before exiting the room and closing the door behind her. I hear the faint sound of a key turning.
And I’m alone once more.