Chapter Thirteen – Jessa
Chapter Thirteen
Jessa
The tension is so thick, one could cut it with a knife. Oh God, I’m starting to think in cliches. What is this man doing to me? No, not a man… I need to remind myself. Angel. Seraph. Made of steel. A robot that’s not a robot at all, because he sounds more human than most real men I’ve met.
We’ve been walking through another tunnel for maybe twenty minutes when the passage opens into something that makes me stop dead in my tracks. My jaw drops.
“What the hell?”
I turn to Castien and start jumping up and down like a complete maniac, laughing so hard I can barely breathe. He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“What is this?” His voice carries an edge of confusion. “Is this an illusion? Are we hallucinating? Is there something in the air? Some poisoning gas that’s making me see things that aren’t there?”
I’m still laughing, but I manage to get control of myself enough to speak.
“The room is real, Castien. It’s completely real.”
And it is. We’re standing in the doorway of a medieval bedroom that looks like it was decorated yesterday.
Rich tapestries hang on the walls, and a massive four-poster bed dominates the center of the room, complete with a thick mattress, pillows, and blankets that look perfectly clean.
A wooden table sits against a wall, with two chairs pulled up to it.
Candelabras have lit themselves when we entered, casting yellow light across everything.
There’s also a wooden chest at the foot of the bed.
“I read about this,” I tell him, dropping my backpack. “It means we’re close. The vault is right after this room.”
“How is this possible?”
“The Holloways built it as the final rest before the last challenge. They knew any heir who made it past the Spiral of Echoes would be psychologically destroyed, so they wanted to give them comfort before the final tests. The room is maintained by the same magic that powers the traps. A bit of mercy hidden in the curse.”
I walk over to check the adjoining chamber and scrunch up my nose. It’s got a medieval privy and washbasin. Not ideal, but it’ll do. When I come back out, Castien is still standing where I left him, staring around the room like he expects it to disappear.
“I have no idea what time it is,” I say.
“Ten PM,” he answers.
“I’m exhausted, hungry, and aching all over. We should rest for a couple of hours before we face the vault. That challenge isn’t easy either. I need to gather my thoughts if I’m going to beat it.”
“I understand.”
Castien chooses one of the chairs and sits down. His back is straight and his hands rest on his knees. He looks like a statue.
I frown.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t need to rest. I don’t sleep.”
“What do you do instead?”
“I enter sentry mode for two hours every three days to defragment my systems, but I remain aware of threats.”
“That must be nice. And to think how much time I waste sleeping.”
I head to the adjoining chamber to use the privy and wash up a bit. It’s the first time we’ve had a wall between us in a whole day, and I realize tonight will be weird. We have to share this room, and I’ll have to sleep while he watches over me. But I’m so tired, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.
When I come back out, I open the wooden chest and find exactly what I was hoping for. There’s a medieval nightdress folded on top, and underneath are supplies in a whicker basket – dried food that looks fresh, wine, and a bottle of clean water.
I pull out the nightdress, and Castien turns around. I take that as permission to change.
The nightdress is soft linen, long-sleeved and modest, falling to my ankles.
It’s surprisingly comfortable. I gather up the food and wine, and bring everything to the table, making myself a plate with bread, hard cheese, dried meat, and dried fruit.
Everything tastes perfect, like it was prepared this morning instead of centuries ago.
“The magic preserves everything and makes it safe to eat,” I explain, pouring wine into a goblet. “Not that it’s interesting to you since you don’t eat. Another blessing.”
Castien turns back to face me and places his arms on the table.
“I often forget to eat,” I tell him between bites. “When I did research or studied for an exam, I’d get so focused I’d come close to fainting before I remembered I was hungry.”
“Why would you punish yourself like that?”
I laugh.
“It wasn’t punishment. It’s just the way I function when I’m stressed out. Or don’t function, more like.”
The wine is old and strong, and I can feel it working fast, warming me up and relaxing my muscles. I’m lightweight when it comes to alcohol, and half a bottle is enough to make me bold. It’s also making me hot in other ways, heat pooling low in my stomach every time I catch Castien’s eyes on me.
When I’m finished eating, I lean back in my chair and study his face.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think of me? Really think, not what you’re supposed to say as my bodyguard.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Yes, you are. And you’re not supposed to be able to lie or ignore direct questions, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“So, tell me. What do you think of me?”
He’s silent, but I’m patient. It’s the wine’s fault for how playful I feel, wanting to tease him. But I’m also serious. I want to know.
“I think you’re intelligent,” he says. “Brave to the point of recklessness, and stubborn beyond reason. You argue with everything, including concepts that have existed for centuries.”
“Is that bad?”
“No. It’s fascinating.”
Heat spreads through my chest.
“What else?”
“You’re beautiful. You know this, though. You move like you own every space you enter.”
My breath catches.
“Anything else?”
His voice drops lower.
“You make me want things I shouldn’t want. Feel things I shouldn’t feel.”
“Would it be so bad for us to experiment a little? We like each other. I want you, and you want me.”
I bite my lower lip and bat my eyelashes at him. I’m being obvious, but I don’t care. With him, I think being obvious is key.
“Jessa–”
“I know you didn’t want the anatomy you have now, but maybe it was given to you for a reason. Doesn’t everything happen for a reason?”
His hands clench on the table.
“Is it just curiosity on your part?” he asks.
I give that a serious thought, then shake my head.
“No. I mean, yes, but not only curiosity. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“Sex isn’t sinful if two people like each other and there’s consent, Castien.”
“It is if it’s outside of marriage.”
I laugh. I know it must come out dismissive, even rude, but I can’t help it.
“Marriage is a concept invented by society. It’s not sacred, it’s practical.”
He shakes his head.
This is something I’ve argued before. My friend, Denise, didn’t listen when I tried to explain this to her before she married that controlling asshole she calls a husband.
Now she’s trapped with two young kids and a man who monitors her phone and won’t let her go anywhere alone.
Some people might call me cynical for thinking this way, but I’m just not na?ve.
“Do you think I’m wrong?” I press. “You must’ve read hundreds of books, studied history. Even if you were buried in catacombs and a bunker for most of it, you surely know how it all started.”
Castien bows his head slightly, his eyes falling away from mine. His change in attitude tells me he’s not going to argue with me on this one. On the contrary, he’s about to tell me I’m right.
“The first recorded marriage ceremonies date to about 2350 BC in Mesopotamia,” he says. “Before that, humans lived in loosely organized groups with multiple partners. As hunter-gatherers settled into agricultural societies, they needed more stable arrangements.”
“Exactly. And why did they need those arrangements?”
“To join families and keep wealth within bloodlines. To form alliances for economic and political benefit.”
His voice sounds reluctant, though, like he doesn’t like admitting to the reality of things. Another human trait, in my humble opinion.
“Right. Marriage wasn’t about love, God, or sacred bonds. It was about property and power. For thousands of years, it was a way of getting in-laws and expanding the family labor force. Women were bound to men so men would know which children were theirs. It was a business deal.”
“The Church–”
“Didn’t get involved until much later, and even then, it was about control.
” I’m getting too passionate about it. I must rein it in.
“Love matches only started becoming common about two hundred and fifty years ago. Before that, if you married for love instead of practical reasons, society looked down on you.”
Castien’s eyes find mine again. He nods.
“You’re right.”
“I know I’m right. But, look… It doesn’t mean I don’t believe in marriage and don’t respect people who marry for love.
Or for whatever reason, as long as two consenting adults are involved and are clear about their intentions.
I just think it’s smarter to be aware that marriage is, at its root, a social contract, and two people should know each other very well before they make that step. ”
I get up from my chair and walk around the table to where he’s sitting. He doesn’t move away. My heart pounds, but I reach out and touch his face, running my fingers along his steel cheek, down to his jaw. His eyes brighten, the only sign that my touch affects him.
“Would you like me to show you?” I whisper.
“Show me what?”
“How good it can feel. How good it can be if you just give yourself permission.”
I keep caressing his face as he thinks about my proposal, my thumb tracing the sharp line of his jaw. I’m patient. If he says no, I’ll back off and never mention this again. I won’t push him past what he can handle.
But then his hands come up and grip my waist, pulling me closer, until I’m standing between his knees.
“Show me, Jezebel.”