Chapter 17
Serafina
Another three days have passed. Three long, excruciatingly uneventful days. And still, I have not seen the prince.
If not for Ishla, I surely would have gone mad by now. Okay, maybe I still might be going a tad mad because where is he?
He promised to train me. To help me grow stronger. To help me survive. And he’s just…disappeared? Like I don’t even matter?
Which I suppose to him…I don’t.
I pull at my hair, the truth washing over me, and I hate that it hurts. I hate that when I saw him last, I had let my guard down. I had opened up to him. I shared things about my life, my sister, and my parents.
Moving to the door, feeling far more defiant than I should, I itch to open it. I itch to do what I promised him I would never do.
Leave this room.
If he can’t be bothered to visit, the man who literally moves at the speed of light, then maybe I can’t be bothered to keep my promise.
I groan, the sound loud and sharp in the empty room. I force myself to step away from the door, pacing back and forth.
I’m going crazy. I’m losing my mind.
Being cooped up like this, day after day, with no one to talk to aside from Ishla, who never seems to have much time to spare, it’s unbearable.
My eyes scan the room I’ve been forced to call home for the past few weeks, and to say it’s gotten a bit…messy, would be an understatement. Scattered pieces of paper litter the floor, with my notes about the Essentari scribbled across them.
I need to get out of here.
What’s the worst that could happen?
I worry he might try to kill you. Jax’s warning from the garden seeps into my mind.
His father.
The king.
Might try to kill me.
I suppose that’s as dire as it gets.
But only if I’m caught…and Jax made the mistake of showing me that secret passageway, the one that got us to the gardens without crossing a single soul, the one that had additional halls to explore, to venture down.
He’ll never know. No one will ever know.
I open the door, take a deep breath, and I break my promise.
Moving quickly and silently, I make my way to the wall with the uneven stone. Pressing my weight fully into it, the hidden door shifts, revealing the secret hallway. I slip inside, the grin on my face damn near uncontrollable.
No one saw me.
And now, no one will.
I begin to explore. The air feels damp and cold, and it’s dark, so dark. But a spark from my fingertips creates a small flame, providing just enough light to allow me to see.
Eventually, I come across a narrow hall with slits in the walls that allow slivers of light to slip through. My flame disappears, and I squint through one of the cracks, desperate to see what lies on the other side.
It’s a banquet hall. Enormous and extravagant. The ceilings are vaulted, adorned with intricate gold carvings, and chandeliers hang like frozen waterfalls, each crystal catching the light.
Tables stretch across the room, covered with fine linens, and servants bustle about, arranging towering floral displays.
It’s like they’re preparing for a grand feast, a thought that immediately raises the bile in my stomach, but I swallow it down.
The fucking Elite. Never failing to make me feel sick with the way they’re allowed to live.
I force myself to look away, slipping through more hidden hallways, pausing occasionally to peer through other vents and cracks. Each offering a glimpse into another world.
Jax’s world.
An elaborate library with bookshelves that reach the tall ceiling. Row after endless row with a glorious fireplace off to the side. I can’t help but wonder what stories each book holds. Bound in leather, some looking more aged than others.
A room made almost entirely of glass comes next. The sun filters through, reaching the countless plants I would kill to touch.
I stumble upon what looks to be a training room next. Weapons line the walls. Swords, shields, maces, and bows, each polished to perfection. The space smells of sweat and steel, and the faint sound of metal striking metal echoes through the air.
And then, through the small metal vent in the wall, I spot him, and my heart leaps straight into my throat.
Jax.
The flickering torches cast shadows along the stone floor, but he stands out like a flame in the darkness.
His shirt hangs open, revealing his impossibly toned chest with peaks of hard muscle covered by the dark, delicate lines of his tattoo.
Each line moves as if it’s alive, writhing with every calculated move he makes.
His sword slices through the air like an extension of his body. Each strike against his opponent lands with a force that makes my blood run hot.
The man facing him is covered in mesh armor that shimmers in the faint light. But even with the added protection—one that Jax doesn’t wear—he’s barely holding his ground.
It’s almost like watching an intricate dance. Every step coordinated, every motion deliberate. And yet, there’s an edge to it, as if Jax isn’t just battling against this other man, but also whatever lives just beneath the surface of that mask he loves to wear.
I press my forehead against the cool stone, my ribs tightening as I continue to watch him. The way his muscles flex and ripple beneath his skin…it’s mesmerizing. His dark hair clings to his damp forehead, and beads of sweat trail down his temples, his neck, his heaving chest.
He’s beautiful.
Fierce and untouchable, a force of nature hiding within the body of a man.
I bite my lip. I shouldn’t be watching him like this, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away.
But then he stops moving, his gaze traveling to the far corner of the room, finding the two beautiful women who I hadn’t even noticed, but clearly, they’ve been there this whole time, watching him, just as I’ve been.
They stroll over to him, their laughter soft and irritating.
They stand beside him, leaning in close, but they don’t touch him.
Something flares in my chest, feeling sharp and unwelcome, and fucking painful.
Anger. That’s what I’m feeling. Undeniable rage because is this where he’s been all this time? Laughing with them? Training while they watch? While I sit locked away and isolated?
My hands curl into fists, my vision turning red.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to spy?”
I whirl around to face the owner of that smooth, mocking voice, my heart hammering even harder than it was before.
Theo.
His smirk is dangerous, his eyes glimmering with something that sends a wave of panic through me.
“And what exactly are you looking at that has you so angry, Little Flame?” He steps beside me, having to bend over to peer through the vent, and when he chuckles lightly, I know he’s spotted them. “How interesting.”
“You really seem to like that word, don’t you?” I seethe, hating that I’ve been caught—but hating even more how this must look. Like I’m jealous, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
“What can I say?” His eyes fix on me. “I find a lot of things interesting.”
“Well, consider me one less thing to add to your list,” I snap, grinding my teeth.
He chuckles again, low and infuriating. “Don’t fret, Little Flame. I’m a taken man. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to me, at least not in that regard.”
Theo Bray? A taken man? Loyal to only one?
I want to laugh, but the sound dies in my throat when I hear a louder laugh.
My attention turns back to the vent.
The woman with wavy blond hair throws her head back as if Ryjax has said the funniest thing in the world. Which I know can’t be true because that man couldn’t crack a joke if his gods-damned life depended on it.
She reaches for him, dragging her manicured fingernail along his naked chest, and he grabs her wrist.
Red-hot fury blurs my vision, and my hands burn with a fire I can’t suppress.
But then I do.
Fuck.
I stare down at my fingers, horrified for so many reasons. My lack of control, and delusional brain, but mainly at how I just lit this vent up like the freaking sun.
“Did he see?” I whisper to Theo, unable to bring myself to look, but I can feel it—feel him—and I already know the answer.
“Oh, most definitely.” Theo’s chuckle deepens, and I swear to the gods if he laughs one more time, I will end him.
My breath hitches, and slowly, I lift my gaze, and my whole body trembles.
He can’t see me.
He can’t.
Not through this vent.
But he’s staring right at me, and I know he knows.
He knows I’m here.
He knows I broke my promise.
Ryjax is no longer holding the woman’s wrist, and it’s clear that he was the only one who saw the flames. The women surrounding him are still laughing, lost in their own conversation.
But his eyes…golden and deadly, are pinned on where I stand.
His entire body quakes with what I can only assume is rage, and I am completely and totally fucked.