Chapter 11 #2
“It’s no bother at all, really. I hope these two have looked after you?
” Her question makes me stop briefly. Is she aware that I’m a prisoner?
That I’m here not by choice but by the decisions made by men around me?
Before I can answer her, we’re being called into the kitchen by Mara.
We gather around the table, and I look around at this family, feeling a sense of both longing and loneliness.
I never had big family dinners, maybe before I lost my parents, but I can’t remember them.
My grandmother and I would try to sit at the table for food, but with just the two of us, it always felt like someone was missing, so we mostly ate in front of the TV, watching her favourite shows.
I never sat there wishing for noise or extra chairs, didn’t ache for laughter bouncing off the walls.
We were fine, the two of us, content. But sitting here now, listening to the siblings argue with Mara reaching across the table to fix Rowan’s cloak, I realise there's a difference between being content and being full.
Back then, I never noticed the empty spaces, but now I do.
Now I can see them everywhere. They pass the bowls between each other, tearing into the bread and murmuring about their weeks.
“Hold up,” Kael’s voice booms. “You’re eating carrots?” he says to Rowan, feigning shock. Rowan pauses.
“What is it with you and commenting on the vegetables I eat, seriously?” he says. It earns a laugh from Mara and Bryn.
Kael turns to his sister, “Bryn, why are you not as surprised as me? You were there. He swore he’d never eat them again.”
“I was twelve,” Rowan cuts in.
“You may have been twelve, but you were deadly serious," Bryn chuckles.
“You were pretty dramatic about it, Ro,” they continue their bickering, and I watch in awe at the sight of Rowan, unguarded. Finally, at ease and smiling. A real and genuine smile.
“They are quite the pair, aren’t they?” Mara whispers to me, shaking her head.
“Are they always like this?” I chuckle.
“Hell, I hope not. That’s your two highest-ranking knights right there."
“Have you known Rowan for a long time?”
“Since he first learnt to walk. His mother died during childbirth, his father left him before he could even form his first word,” she whispers. I’m lost for words, it’s achingly familiar.
“That’s… awful. It’s nice that you were there for him.”
“I was best friends with his mother. We grew up together. We were so excited when we got pregnant so close together, always hoped our babies would be close. It was awful when we lost her, never forgave his dad for leaving. I hope he rots in hell.” She gives Rowan an endearing look.
I suppose she is as much his mother as Kael’s.
“I’m just glad to see him smiling again.
He’s been in such a dark place,” she says, and my ears prick up.
“When we lost Masen, it devastated us all. But Rowan took it harder than the rest. Blamed himself, still does, I think,” she gives an endearing look at Rowan, who is now looking between me and Mara.
I’m about to ask who this Masen is when the front door blows open with a slam.
I jump at the sudden noise, the boys immediately standing to attention, hands on the hilts of their swords.
They both walk towards the door carefully as we all wait in anticipation. I half think it’s one of the castle knights demanding I’m back in the glasshouse this instant. But they both return, relaxed and at ease.
“Just the wind,” Kael says. “It’s bad out there,” Kael says, turning to Rowan, who fixes his gaze on the ground. “No way we can travel back in that."
“You’ll stay,” Mara says.
Rowan opens his mouth to speak. I assume he’s about to turn down the offer, but Mara repeats herself firmly.
“You will stay.” And Rowan’s jaw snaps shut. Kael smirks playfully, giving me a wink before slapping a hand on Rowan’s back.
“I’ll need to contact the castle, let Aldric know,” Rowan states. Mara tuts in the background, clipping Rowan gently across his head.
“It’s King Aldric, Rowan. He is not your friend,” Mara says in warning. “You can use our hearthstone. "
I turn to Kael now, “What’s a hearthstone?”
“Right, I forget you’re from another realm sometimes,” he laughs. “A way of communicating. It uses old magic. You can transmit brief messages, but nothing long. It only works for about thirty seconds at a time.”
“So it’s like a phone?” I say.
“A what?”
“Never mind,” I shake my head, deciding it’s not worth the explanation.
He doesn’t question it any further. They have magic to transmit messages, but they have no telephones.
It takes a moment to admit it, but they’re better off without them.
We built these little glass worlds to hold in our palms, and somewhere along the way, we forgot how to live in the real one.
Trailing behind Kael into another room. It looks like a sitting area.
Two blue couches sit on either side, with a wooden beam running through the centre of the room.
A small wooden table sits off to the side with a chessboard.
There are some things I can be glad they have here at least. Kael grins.
“How would you feel about another game of chess? I won’t let you win this time.”
“Sure, why not.”
“Who the hell taught you to play like this? I mean, seriously. There is only one person I know who could play like this.” He protests after I call checkmate once again. He’s been watching my moves so carefully this time, his face concentrating harder than before.
“If you’re about to say Rowan, I’d think again because I beat him too,” I say with a grin.
“Well, I’ll be saving that information for later,” he winks. “No, he, um…he’s actually not with us anymore.” Kael’s face drops, and it brings a wave of sadness to see his normally permanent smile disappear.
“Masen?” I throw the name out there. His head turns instantly at the sound of his name.
“My mum mentioned him, didn’t she?” I nod in response, letting him continue.
“Well, he was the best player I knew. He taught me and Rowan. He used the same starting move as you, did Rowan mention that?” he asks me, and I shake my head. But there’s something there in his face I can’t quite make out.
“Can you tell me about him?” I ask, but he looks to Rowan, who is now sitting at the other end of the room chatting away to Mara.
“I think it’s best that he tells you.” That’s all he gives me before standing and offering me his hand. “I think it’s probably time to call it a night.”
“Right,” I smile. We make our way over to Mara and Rowan, who go still once we approach. Mara gives me a soft smile as Rowan looks everywhere except at me.
“I hear you are a skilful chess player, dear,”
“I don’t know about that, but I’m certainly better than these two.” She laughs in response, which causes a small bickering session between Rowan and Kael.
“I think we should probably get some sleep. Rowan, you can take the spare room with Elodie,” she says.
“What?” we both say in unison. Kael tries to bury his laugh behind his arm whilst Mara shakes her head.
“I can take the sofa. It’s okay,” I say.
“Nonsense, I won’t have a guest sleeping on my sofa when there is a perfectly big enough bed,” she says, “It’s one night.
I’m sure you will both survive.” Rowan looks at Kael with a death stare.
I follow Rowan down the narrow corridor in silence, the sound of rain pressing harder against the walls the further we go.
The room is small, clean and cosy. There is a bed pushed against the far wall, a nightstand and some wardrobes.
No sofa.
No chair.
No second option.
“I’ll take the floor,” Rowan says.
“Don’t,” I say. “It’s fine, really.” He pauses slightly before nodding, setting his boots neatly beside the bed and loosening his trousers.
The surrounding air prickles every inch of my skin.
I follow his lead, removing my own shoes and fumbling with the clasps at the back of my bodice. My fingers don’t cooperate. Slipping once before I try again.
Heat climbs up my neck.
“I can’t, um…” the words tangle in my throat.
Rowan doesn’t look at me. Instead, he reaches for his cloak, the dark fabric heavy in his hands.
“You can sleep in it,” he says quietly before glancing at my hands slipping on the bodice.
“Here,” he says before standing and moving behind me, his fingers graze over my back as he finds the fastening, working them loose with quiet efficiency. His fingers brush my back, steady and precise. My breath catches before I can stop it.
“There,” he murmurs, his voice raw.
“That can’t be your first time undoing a woman’s dress. That was far too efficient,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. Embarrassment blooms hot and immediate as I stare at the wall, cursing myself internally. Pivoting to face him, his eyes drop once. Slowly. Then return to mine.
“No, Elodie.” He smirks. “It is not.” My breath catches at his response, his voice lower and dripping with something I haven’t seen from him before. I lose my grip on my dress as it falls briefly before I catch it.
“I’m just going to—” I raise his cloak in the air and nod to the side.
He observes me as I slip the cloak over myself, making sure it’s fully covering before slipping out of the dress.
It swamps me, hanging below my knees and smelling of him.
Of pine and leather. Giving him an awkward smile before stepping into the bed and pulling the covers over myself.
He removes his shirt slowly, not in any attempt to impress, just the absent movement of a man used to shedding his armour.
The low light of the room gathers along the lines of his body, shadows carving definition where muscle meets bone.
He has the type of body shaped by years of discipline and bruises, pale lines of scars cutting across his ribs.
I’m shamelessly staring at him before I look up to his face.
Our eyes meet briefly before I snap my gaze away.
Trying to focus on anything but him, the wall, the floor.
I don’t think I have ever found a floor this interesting before.
Drawing a quiet breath and hiding my hands under the blanket, I look back at him.
He’s still watching me, not smirking or amused, just watching.
His eyes are darker now, unreadable, and for a second I’m frozen in place as he stands there, silence stretching between us.
His jaw tightens before he moves closer, stepping into the bed beside me.
We both lie there in silence, and I know if I stretched my hand a little further, it would brush against his.
“Rowan,” I break the tension.
“Elodie,”
“Why did you get me those overalls?”
“You needed some more.”
“Why did you get my name embroidered?”
“So you have something that is all yours,” he says simply.
My pulse stutters.
The gesture is not something I would have expected from him. It’s something he clearly thought about and chose for me.
“Even though I am trying desperately to return home?” I whisper.
“Wanting to leave doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to belong. You can belong somewhere, even if it’s only for a short while.” My throat tightens at his words, my thoughts returning to the dinner earlier this evening. I don’t belong, of course.
It’s not my family.
How would it feel to belong?
To have someone waiting for you at home?
Then my thoughts return to my conversation with Mara and Kael.
My curiosity getting the better of me, I ask, “Who is Masen?”
The question hangs between us.
I don’t dare move my head to look at him so I remain with my gaze firmly planted on the wooden beam that runs along the ceiling.
“He was one of us. Me, Masen and Kael. We were brothers,” he says, his voice tight.
“What happened to him?”
There’s a pause, long enough for me to think I’ve asked too much of him. The rain patters softly against the roof as his breathing shifts. But then his cold voice slices through the air.
“I killed him.”