Chapter 13
Sebastian
Isla’s breathing changes, becoming deeper, slower, and more rhythmic as she drifts off to sleep.
I remain sitting on the edge of the mattress, my back against the rough earthen wall, listening to the guards above.
“How’s about another bottle!” one of the guards calls out. It’s the same one who spoke of Tryfon. All I can think is that he is alive. He wasn’t found out, and for that I am truly grateful. I feel bad that he had to stab himself to make my escape believable.
There’s the sound of a cork being pulled, followed by the glug of liquid being poured. Dishes clang as one of them serves up more stew. The guards have made themselves right at home in Julienne’s cabin.
“We should get back out there,” another one of them says. It’s the authoritative one from earlier. “If we’re caught resting and drinking, there will be consequences.”
“Who’s going to tell?” another guard responds. “As long as none of us talks about it, we’re fine. One more bottle and then we’ll continue our search. I don’t particularly relish the idea of running into him.”
“Me neither.”
“You’re right.” The first guard sighs. “One more drink, then we need to get going.”
“Did you see what he did to those guards on the road?” another says. “There were shadows everywhere. The men were thrown down like bags of straw. The males closest to him died instantly.”
“Thirteen died,” another adds quietly.
“Another ten are in the infirmary. Several are in bad shape and might not make it. Poor Toby has at least nine broken bones.”
I feel guilty, hearing them talk. I hadn’t meant to kill anyone. Just rough them up enough to get away. I thought I could control my power like before. Turns out that I was wrong.
There’s a long pause. Then someone clears their throat. “He’s powerful. More powerful than we expected.”
“He’s the king; of course he’s powerful.”
“He was the king. Don’t let the queen hear you talking like that or she might smite you down.”
“King or no, I wouldn’t want to face him,” a male with a deep voice mutters.
“Neither would I,” another agrees.
There is silence for a while. It feels heavy.
“I’m stuffed.” Someone belches.
The others laugh.
“Pour me some more wine,” another says.
“You’ve had plenty.”
“It’s excellent, but you’re right, I’ll regret it once I’m back out there.”
“Perhaps some water instead?” Julienne asks.
“Yes, why not?” The guard sounds bored at the thought of water instead of wine.
“Are you still marrying that fine young female from the northern swine farm?”
“Yes…next week. I am looking forward to it.” He sounds wistful. “Sara is more than I could have hoped for.”
“I’d hate to be tied down like that,” another says.
“No worries there, since no one will have you.”
They all laugh again.
I listen for a while longer, but exhaustion is pulling at me. The mattress isn’t large, but it’s better than the floor. I carefully lie down, keeping as much space between Isla and me as possible. My right shoulder presses against the wall.
It shouldn’t be long now before the guards move on. I’ll rest for just a short while. Just until they leave.
My eyes drift closed, and when I wake, it is to the sensation of warmth against my side.
For a moment, I’m disoriented. Then I remember where I am and look down. I’m flat on my back on the mattress.
Isla is resting on my shoulder, her head tucked against my neck. Her blond hair spills across my chest in soft waves. In sleep, her face is peaceful. The worry lines that creased her forehead earlier have smoothed away. The tension in her jaw has eased. For a few moments, I just look at her.
She’s quite beautiful.
The thought comes unbidden, but I can’t deny it. Even dirty and exhausted, she’s something to look at.
Not my normal type. Isla has flared hips and rounded, plump breasts. Her freckles are very evident across her nose and cheeks. Her ears are completely rounded.
I find myself wanting to trace my fingers along the curve of them. Wanting to take a handful of her hip. I glance at her chest, quickly looking away.
No, not my type and yet…I can’t stop looking at her, even though I should.
I pull in another breath. Her scent is of wildflowers and rain. A combination I didn’t know could smell so good.
I lie there, uncertain of what to do.
I look up when there are soft footsteps above us. Just one set. They move across the floor slowly, methodically. It’s Julienne, I’m certain of it.
I wait, tracking her movement. There’s the soft chink of dishes. The scrape of a chair being pushed back into place.
After a while, I notice something else. The rug has been removed from above the trapdoor.
I wait just a little longer to be certain, but I think it’s safe to go up. Holding my breath, I shift Isla from my shoulder onto the mattress. She stirs, her brow furrowing. A small sound escapes her lips. Then she moans softly and turns over.
I freeze.
But she doesn’t wake. After a few seconds, her breathing evens out again. She settles into the thin mattress, curling onto her side.
I wait a moment longer to be certain, then I rise and move to the ladder. The rungs are rough beneath my hands as I climb. At the top, I pause, listening one more time.
Then I carefully push open the trapdoor.
Julienne looks over at me and smiles. She’s standing near the hearth, a cleaning rag in her hands.
I pull myself up through the opening and gently close the trapdoor behind me.
“I thought I would leave you both to sleep,” Julienne says quietly. “You’re exhausted. I would suggest that you sleep here tonight. You’re quite safe down there.” She gestures to the floor. “You can leave as soon as you’ve both had sufficient rest.”
I have a plan. One that’s been forming in my mind since we arrived. And resting for a while does lend itself to it. It will give Isla time to sleep before I send her on her way.
“As long as you’re happy to accommodate us,” I tell her, moving to help with the tidying. I pick up a bowl from the table and carry it to the basin near the hearth. “Doing so comes with great risk.”
She waves a hand. “I’m quite happy to help.
In fact, I insist on it.” She takes the bowl from me and begins washing it.
“I never married. Never had children. There was someone once, but…” Her voice trails off.
“He died in the great plague. For the longest time, I never trusted myself to love again in case I lost them. It was a terrible time.” She’s quiet for a moment, her hands moving mechanically through the washing.
“But things have changed. I’ve changed. As I’m growing older, I feel there has never been any real purpose to my life. Now, finally, I have one.”
“I am grateful.”
I dry the dishes as she hands them to me, stacking them carefully on a shelf. We work in companionable silence for a few moments.
“I’m sorry you had a hard life,” I tell her.
She glances at me, a small smile playing at her lips.
“You know a thing or two about a hard life as well.” Then her eyes widen slightly.
She sets down the bowl she’s washing and gives a small bow.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I didn’t mean to be overly familiar.
It’s easy to forget that you are the king. ”
“I was once a king,” I correct her. “That’s no longer true. Hopefully, that will change in the future. You have welcomed me into your home, and I consider you a friend. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“In my eyes, you are still the king. I know that there are many others who feel the same,” she says, lifting her brows. “It may not seem like it at times. The fae are bitter and defeated. It wouldn’t take much to awaken their fire…their strength. They will serve you again. Of that, I am sure.”
I nod once, accepting her words. “Thank you. I will do everything in my power to make it happen. To restore order to the kingdom.”
“I know.”
We continue tidying in silence. I go over to stoke the fire, which is low.
“Can I be frank with you?” she asks.
I pause, a log in my hands. “Of course. I’m standing under your roof, expecting you to risk life and limb for me. Speak freely.” I toss the log in.
“Are you sure you have to send Isla away?” She looks at me directly now.
“She seems like a trustworthy young lady. You could work together. It might make it easier for both of you. You could leave this court together. She could aid you in your quest. In turn, you would be helping her too. I think she could use a friend. I think you both could.”
I pick up another log. “I don’t know her. She came out of nowhere, broke my curse, helped me escape, and I don’t know why.” I shrug.
“Maybe she just did the right thing.”
I shake my head. “It’s all too convenient. Too perfectly timed. I can’t take that risk, Julienne. If it were just me, I would take the chance, but it isn’t.”
“I understand why you feel you can’t trust her,” she says. “I understand your reasons. It’s also justifiable, given your past.”
I feel a pang.
“I have a plan,” I tell her. “It does not include Isla. And I’m sticking to it.”
“I understand.”
Is what happened when I was just a boy clouding my judgment now? I don’t think it has anything to do with it. I’m basing my decisions on simple facts.
Isla has a better chance of surviving if she isn’t with me.
We finish up in silence. Julienne folds the cleaning rag and hangs it by the bucket.
“I think it would be best if you slept down under the floor tonight,” she says. “Just in case. Otherwise, we’ll have to take turns staying up to keep watch.”
I think of Isla sleeping below. Of the small space. Of us sleeping together on the same mattress. It isn’t proper, but staying up here would inconvenience Julienne. It would put us all at risk.
I nod. “You’re right. That would be for the best.”
“Would you like to wash up first?” she asks.
“That would be great.”
Julienne shows me to a basin of water near the back of the cabin. I splash my face, scrubbing away the dirt and sweat of the day. The water is refreshing. I dry myself with a rough towel she provides.
When I return to the trapdoor, she’s already lifted it for me.
“Goodnight, Your Majesty,” she whispers.
“Just Sebastian,” I remind her.
She smiles. “Goodnight, Sebastian.”
I descend the ladder. Above me, Julienne replaces the trapdoor and covers it with the animal skin. I hear her moving about for a few minutes more. Then all is silent.
Isla is still asleep, curled on her side. Her hair has fallen across her face.
I pull off the tattered tunic, tossing it to the side. Then I move to the far edge of the mattress and lie on my back, staring up at the dark underside of the floorboards.
Sleep doesn’t come easily. My mind races with plans and contingencies. With doubts and second-guesses.
After a time, I force my thoughts to still. To focus on my breathing. On the darkness around me.
Eventually, exhaustion wins, my eyes drift closed, and I sleep.