Chapter 19
Come morning, Aegir asked me to have breakfast with him. I politely refused, but he kept persisting, up to the point where he started threatening me.
“If I don’t see you eat at least two items from the tray, I am not going to let you leave.”
“So much for a bargain,” I replied complacently.
“Really, Cordelia? A bargain for sharing my food with you, in exchange for what?”
He was right, I shouldn’t have suggested a bargain, that was selfish of me. But instead I told him, “Well, it comes with risks, you know?”
“Clever.” Then he narrowed his eyes at me, his expression quickly changing, and with an assertive tone, added, “But no.” Then he threw an apple at me and ordered me to eat it.
“Thank you, Aegir,” I said, looking at him from beneath my lashes before taking my first bite.
For the next few days, he threw fruit at me. For a few more, I stood next to his tray and took two pieces of whatever there was. But I never risked sitting down—not even for the brief time Aegir spent at the table, before being summoned away by King Belzari.
On the rare days he wasn’t swept away, Aegir would often sit at the work desk, sorting through papers, scrolls, and maps.
He often caught me off guard, asking me some random question.
Sometimes he asked me about things that I had no idea even existed, like he thought I was smart and had all the answers in the world.
Sometimes I did have answers, though.
I never thought I would be using any of my knowledge from the history and geography teachings, yet here I was, discussing the waterways with the Lord of the Vanguard of Ice.
The complex transportation system that was destroyed more than a decade ago.
The underground waterways were used to transport filtered water from Ilma to the Earthen Lands, whereas the overground waterways were used for the transportation of goods across the Elemental Lands.
Well, except for Rih and Naar. Those were always independent.
The Rihans—the Air Wielders—vanished into the heights of the tallest mountains, immune to the thinning air they commanded. Whereas the Naaris—the Fire Wielders—set out to bring chaos and destruction. One people, and a destructive ripple that carried across its neighbouring Lands.
It felt strange, discussing the ration laws that King Belzari had implemented on the people of Ramel.
The mere mention of them reminded me of the “peace treaty” that every Land in Lyrantheia conceded to and conveniently signed, even Silch.
No one fought for Ilma. The thought saddened my heart, and I may have spotted a mirror of my sombre expression on Aegir’s face.
His, however, seemed tainted with a little freckle of guilt.
Because the Hydrans were once one people, until one abandoned the other.
I wished to ask. I didn’t.
One morning, I found him leaning over his desk, inspecting some document. I noticed that he was wearing the same clothes from the day before. My gaze shifted towards the bed. It was still made.
“Cordelia,” he murmured, flipping over the parchment. He turned to the window as if to make himself aware that the night had passed and that the sun was already blazing down on whoever dared its rays. “I—I lost track of time.”
“I think lost track of time is an understatement,” I commented, resting the tray on the dining table. Aegir scoffed in agreement and moved closer. He reached for a piece of fruit. A peach. He took one big, juicy bite out of it, then set it on a side plate.
“Wait for me. I’ll take a quick bath, then join you for breakfast.”
Out of habit, I was about to go make his bed, but remembered that he did not sleep in it last night. He did not sleep at all. What had him up and running all night, I wonder.
My silent steps approached his desk, and I casually peered over the papers that were sprawled haphazardly on the worktable.
I couldn’t understand much of what was written, some numbers—the number eighty thousand underlined—and words that didn’t quite make sense to me.
I lifted the edge of the parchment he’d flipped, just enough to peek.
The hairs on my neck bristled. I let it fall back into place, my hand quickly at my side. I swallowed.
What I saw was a map. A map of Naar.
What are you up to, Lord Hailin?
I absentmindedly paced around, my brain fogged with spiralling thoughts that clouded my head. The many whats and whys that sprouted. And before I knew what I was doing, I found my mouth bursting with the sweetness of ripe peaches. My heavy-lidded eyes snapped open.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I replaced the peach on the puddled plate.
I did regret what I’d unknowingly done, though I would be lying if I said I didn’t savour the flavour that came out of that bite. My eyes closed once more, and I let out a soft exhale at the thought of my lips touching that same place where his had been.
Someone knocked on the door, jolting me out of my sweet trance.
I jerked, quickly wiping my lips with the back of my arm.
The door opened. Turning myself around didn’t keep me from knowing who the unexpected visitor was—the sound of clinking keys gave it away.
I swallowed, bits and all, in one go, while passing my sticky fingers through the fabric of my dress.
“What are you doing?” Mounir mumbled from behind me.
I turned around. “Nothing. I just brought Lord Hailin his breakfast. I was just leaving.”
I made to walk away but he grabbed me by my arm and pulled me so close, his nose almost hit mine. He took a deep inhale; I pulled back a moment too late. I knew I was totally fucked the second I watched him glance at the plate.
Mounir stepped back.
His head turned towards Aegir’s approach. “Ah, Lord Hailin. I’m here on behalf of His Majesty. The king has requested your presence for the day. He also wishes you to dine with him tonight. I’ll be back in an hour to escort you.”
“All right,” Aegir replied, nodding. I could tell that he was tired, and not because his bed was made but because his voice carried a slight rasp. The rest of him, though, appeared sharp and focused.
I subtly raised my palm towards Aegir. He raised his own as he watched me close the door behind us.
Mounir’s silence only fuelled my anticipation. The stairs never seemed so endless. Yet the ground floor arrived too soon—because the moment I hit it, he barked, “My office, now.”
I had barely made it into his office when Mounir yanked me by my arm and shoved me into the closest wall.
“Who the fuck do you think you are!? Eating from a prince’s plate! Is it because you feel entitled, or is it common practice for you to act like a street dog?”
I made to slip away from his grip, but he dug his fingers into my arms, clipping me in place.
Before I could even blink, he slapped me across the face, hitting my left cheek with his palm, then slapped my right one with the back of his ringed hand.
My skin prickled and heated at the crack.
I tried to push him away, but he slammed my back against the wall and held me there, pinned.
I had never felt so powerless. I could do nothing.
It was that—what made me boil with frustration.
Frustration at myself for being so reckless, and even more frustration at my powerlessness.
I didn’t bother with excuses; I didn’t even try to deny it.
But I did not apologise for what I did either.
Mounir’s voice turned vicious. “If I ever catch you eating from your master’s tray, I will stuff my hand so far down your throat, I won’t stop until I reach your stomach.
What you did today, your disobedience, it will not go unpunished.
” As if what he was doing to me wasn’t punishment enough.
“Now that you’ve sated yourself as you pleased, do not eat anything for the rest of today and tomorrow.
It’s a consequence of your gluttony, Delia.
It will serve you as a reminder for self-control.
If I catch someone else feeding you, they will suffer the same consequences.
” He barked his threat so close to my face that his warm breath made its way into my lungs.
And the irony of this bullshit story was that his breath smelled like fresh oranges.
Fucking hypocrite. “Do you understand!?” His hands dug deeper—I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep myself from roaring in pain and anger.
I bet that would have pleased him. I only nodded.
“Go to the laundry room. Do not come out until past sunset.”
By sundown, hunger had long been replaced by nausea and exhaustion.
Nadya’s gasp told me that I looked wonderful. “What happened to your face?”
“You mean, who happened to my face?” I replied flatly.
“Son of a bitch,” she hissed. She handed me a small hand mirror and I met it with a frown. “I’ve just filled the half bucket, the water is clean. Let me.”
She gently dabbed my right cheek using a clean, damp cloth. Faint red now stained the white fabric.
“I can’t decide if being Semuel’s servant for three years was a blessing or a curse. I experienced freedom from him, yet knowing the feeling of being treated like a human, knowing what I’ve lost, aches my heart.”
“I would take it as a blessing, Delia.”
You’re right, I wanted to tell her.
It had been a while since Nadya and I lay on the same bed, talking, and whispering things to each other. It reminded me of that night when Nadya had giggled at my gasps.
“Nadya?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Have you ever kissed someone?” She screeched and leapt onto my bed. We lay facing each other, Nadya grinning from ear to ear.
“Who is he? Tell me!” she demanded.
“No one. It’s just…I saw two people kissing the other day and I wondered.”
“Who did you see?”
“I don’t know who they were.” Lie.
“Well, yes, I have kissed someone before. You have never?”
“Never. Who did you kiss?” I asked curiously.
“I kissed Deric once, the servant from the west wing. And last year, I spent some time with Eman, also from the west wing.”
“And you kissed him as well?”
“Oh, I kissed him all right, and not just on the mouth.”
“Then kissed him…where?”
“Well, down there.”
“What do you mean down there?” I asked, my brow furrowed.
“You know…his man part.” My eyes went wide. Nadya let out a chuckle, then asked, “You do know that a man can kiss and lick you down there as well, right?”
I gasped. She giggled. “Does everyone know about this?” I whispered.
Her hands clamped over her mouth, but they weren’t enough to stifle her laughter. “I wish you could see your face right now.”
“I didn’t know that people could do that.”
“Well, now I wonder what your face is going to look like when I tell you what else is done in bed.”
“There’s more?”
“Mmhmm, much more.”
“Tell me everything,” I breathed.