Chapter 13
Serafina
I’ve been at the palace for two weeks now. Two weeks of hot showers, clean clothes, and a warm bed. Only two weeks, and I already don’t know how I’ll ever go back to the way things used to be.
Since my birthday, every day has been more or less the same.
Ishla wakes me each morning with a hot dish in hand.
A dish I always question. A dish that doesn’t make sense because how do they have so much food when the earth is dying and the fields are nearly bare?
But they do, and it makes me mad. So mad and so hateful of those who live within these city walls.
Not only do residents of the Imperial City not have to compete in the trials, but apparently, they don’t have a need to ration their resources.
I can’t help but wonder how much of the crops from Village 28 make their way here. How much of the food grown in my village, by my father, is sent away from the hungry mouths that need it so badly?
Then, after my mental war is over, and I get over the fact that Ishla has brought me far more food than one person should ever possibly consume in a single sitting, I eat while I beg her to put off her duties to chat with me for longer than she says she should.
And when she does decide to leave me, I read.
I read for hours, learning all I can and then actually trying to implement it.
A week ago, I started reading about meditation, how it’s supposed to strengthen the bond between the Essentari and the element they wield.
It’s something I’ve been prioritizing, even though I nearly die of boredom every time. But meditation is supposed to calm one’s temper, sharpen your focus, two things that are absolutely necessary in order to have control over my abilities.
So I’ve been meditating for an hour each day, right up until Ishla arrives with my dinner.
Sometimes Ryjax joins me then and we eat together, but more often than not, he arrives at my room long after the sun has set.
I’m not sure what he does during the day, I don’t ask, and he doesn’t offer up much information.
But I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that he’s the prince of a dying kingdom.
“Serafina.”
The sound of Ishla’s voice on the other side of the door makes me immediately leap from my bed. I place the book I’d been reading about the Hydrokin on the desk.
“Come in!” I call to her, smiling as she opens the door and moves at her usual frantic pace into the room.
“I brought you a treat this morning.”
“Cake?” I ask with a little too much enthusiasm, my mouth already salivating just thinking about the gooey goodness.
“No.” She giggles. “Cake is not for breakfast, Serafina. I brought fresh berries. Picked from the gardens this morning.” She beams, and my shoulders slump at her words.
Not because berries don’t sound absolutely delicious, but because she mentioned the gardens, and I so desperately want to see them.
I miss my plants even more than I miss the sun, and I just want to be outside. The mere mention of the outdoors instantly puts me in a sour mood.
“What’s wrong?” Ishla asks, concern etched in her pretty features.
Collapsing on the bed, I stretch my arms above my head and release a dramatic sigh.
Ishla giggles again.
“It’s just hard being trapped in this room every day. I would do anything for just a minute of seeing the sky,” I tell her, and she throws me a sympathetic look.
“Well, maybe this will put you in a better mood.” She pulls a piece of paper from the pocket of her frilly blue apron and tosses it on the bed beside me.
“What is it?” I ask, immediately reaching for it.
“A letter. I passed by the prince earlier this morning. He asked me to get it to you.”
My poor mood instantly vanishes.
This letter is from Char.
“Thank you, Ishla,” I tell her, and she smiles.
“I’ll give you some privacy, but I’ll be back later with something sweet.” And then, she’s gone.
I open the letter, desperate to read the words scribbled on the parchment.
I hold in a chuckle. You’d think after all the lessons his father made him endure, Char would have better penmanship. But I can still read it, and that’s all that matters.
Fi,
Thank the gods you’re all right.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night. I’ve been so worried about you I can barely eat or sleep.
To read your words and know you mean them finally puts me at ease.
I’m so sorry for what happened. I’m so sorry for everything. If I could go back and change things…please know that I would.
Your forgiveness means everything, is everything, and I can’t wait until we’re together again, until I can kiss you again.
I will protect you. I will keep you safe. I will never again not be there when you need me.
I put the letter down, sucking in a sharp breath. Those words should make my insides flip and my thoughts wander only to him.
But they don’t.
Because I still haven’t allowed myself to fully analyze my feelings about that kiss. To really think about what it might mean and how it might change things.
Are we meant to be together?
Do I want to be with Char in that way?
Why wouldn’t I?
Char will always protect me. He will always keep me safe. I know that, deep in my soul, I do, and that has to mean something.
I force myself to keep reading.
My father received a letter written by the prince, clearing your name and stating that you will remain at the palace until trial day.
Is that where you are? At the palace with the prince? I can’t imagine what that must be like or what you’re going through.
Is he as awful as we believed him to be? Or worse?
Please continue to write.
Char
Folding his letter, I give myself time to ponder his words. Is he as awful as we believed him to be? I want to say yes, but then I’d be lying because Ryjax is nothing like we believed him to be.
Is he infuriating? Absolutely.
Does he seem to lack human emotion? Yes, again.
But then, he looks at me like he believes in me, in what he thinks I can do, and suddenly, I don’t find him as infuriating anymore.
But he’s still a royal.
Still the prince.
And everything about this world we live in isn’t right, isn’t fair.
But even so, I don’t find him horrible.
I craft a quick letter back, telling Char there’s no need for him to grovel and restating that I am in fact safe and well cared for within the palace walls.
I tell him about the hot showers, the comfy bed, and the sweet berries from the garden that I’ll never get to see. I tell him that I’m learning to wield the flames, that I’m determined to grow stronger, to become someone worthy of the power I’ve been gifted.
But I don’t mention anything about the kiss, and I don’t tell him anything about the prince. He wouldn’t like the truth.
He wouldn’t like to hear that Prince Ryjax is not exactly heartless. That even though Prince Ryjax seems devoid of feelings, he’s been the one helping me learn how to strengthen my bond with the flames.
I fold the paper in half and tuck it in one of the drawers of the desk. I’ll give it to Jax tonight when I see him.
“Serafina.”
It’s as if I summoned him, and for some reason, I find myself smiling at his sudden presence.
Because you’re lonely, Serafina. I tell myself because it’s true. I am lonely.
I open the door.
“The sun is still out,” I tell him with a slight smirk.
Ryjax leans against the frame, his head hitting the wood. His eyes scan my face, and he looks distraught, displeased, like something happened, but then a smile twitches his lips. But as usual, it doesn’t fully form.
“Is that so?”
“I suppose it’s a guess, considering I can’t exactly see the sun from in here, but yes, I believe it is so. Which means I wasn’t expecting you for another few hours.” I raise a brow, and his face completely changes, all signs of whatever had him looking so troubled gone.
“I can go?” He raises his hand, thumb motioning toward the empty corridor behind him, and my eyes widen.
“No!” I say a bit too fast, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
He flashes that devastating smile of his, the one that only makes an appearance on the rarest of occasions, and my cheeks heat even more.
“I mean, your company is better than no company at all. Don’t let it go to your head.
” I move from the door, allowing him a path to enter.
His eyes find the desk and the book I had just set down.
“Any progress with forming a connection with water?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“I don’t think I’m a hybrid,” I say with a wave of my hand. “I mean, my birthday has passed. Wouldn’t I have needed to connect with the element prior to that?”
“I didn’t.” He shrugs, sitting down on the bed, positioning himself so his back hits the wall. He raises his knees, resting his elbows on top of them.
“If you’re going to sit on my bed,” I emphasize the word, rolling my eyes as I do. “Then, you could at least take your shoes off.”
He stares at me with an unamused expression but does as I say, flinging them to the floor.
“Happy?”
“As I can be in a room with no windows.”
“You won’t have to be down here for much longer,” he tells me, and I groan. He arches both brows. “A bit restless today, are we? I would think after your progress yesterday, you’d be in a better mood.”
I smile at that. Because last night did feel like I made some real progress.
Finally.
Looking down at my hands, my smile only widens when the flames take over, from my fingers to my wrist. Both hands are on fire.
I’m not sure exactly what changed. It could be any number of things, really. The meditation, the fresh meals, maybe simply getting a good night’s rest.
Whatever the case, my anger has started to dissipate, and focusing has become easier. But I’m still not able to hold it for long.
I can already feel the ache, every muscle in my arm and fingers beginning to tremor.
Ryjax shakes his head. “Show off,” he murmurs.
I urge the fire in my left palm to form a ball. Hovering it just above my skin, I toss it into the air before catching it.