Chapter 9
Serafina
My eyes flutter open, and I grip the quilt draped over my torso, dragging it up to cover my face before turning on my side. I sink deeper into the supple mattress.
I close my eyes again, even though I’m wide awake.
Sleep had come easy for me last night, and I know I’m well rested. A feeling I haven’t experienced in quite some time. A feeling that typically only comes after extreme exhaustion, and a very full stomach.
I groan because I’m no longer tired.
I groan because I can no longer pass the time by sleeping.
I groan because I don’t even know what time it is.
Is it early morning? Midday?
With no windows, I have no way of knowing.
I groan again, only this time my groan is in time with a knock at the door.
“Come in!” I yell, throwing the quilt to the edge of the bed and sitting up, expecting Ishla has finally come with more food.
The sudden action causes my head to throb, but only a little, the pain much more manageable than before, which comes as a surprise. I assumed the ache would remain for at least another week.
The door swings open, but it’s not Ishla standing just outside the threshold.
“Go. Away,” I say through clenched teeth.
I reach for the quilt I just tossed to the side, desperate to cover myself because even though Ishla had brought me fresh clothes, I’m still wearing Ryjax’s tunic.
It’s soft and cozy, but now I’m embarrassed because he’s looking at me with an amused grin on his face, but it disappears the moment I spot it, making me question whether it was even there to begin with.
“Sleep well?” he asks, but he doesn’t step into the room. Instead, he leans against the doorframe.
I turn away from him. “Don’t worry, your little prisoner slept just fine.”
“Prisoner?” he questions, and the surprised tone in his voice has me whipping back around to face him.
“What else would you call tossing me in here?”
He stares at me with a blank expression, and before he can speak, Ishla flies into the room, carrying nothing but a bath towel. No food.
My stomach grumbles uncomfortably, but not loud enough for them to hear.
“I didn’t toss you in here,” he finally counters.
“But you did lock the door.”
“Because I didn’t have time to explain that you can’t be caught wandering around. For your own safety, you need to stay in this room. I didn’t realize it was only Ishla coming down the hall yesterday. If I had known, I wouldn’t have been in such a rush to hide you.”
“Why do you need to hide me at all?” I fling the quilt once again, this time standing.
My toes curl as they touch the cold cobblestones.
“Because.” He sighs, as if the answer should be obvious. “Technically, you shouldn’t be here. You should be in Village 28.”
His attire is more casual than when I saw him last. He’s wearing a loose black shirt with short sleeves and brass buttons. The top one remains unfastened, giving me a glimpse of his ridiculously toned chest, which is covered in a dark tattoo that I can’t quite make out.
I tilt my head, wanting to know what it is, what it means.
“But it’s okay if Ishla knows I’m here?” I say, finally forcing my eyes up.
My gaze collides with his, and he’s doing that thing again, watching me far too closely, certainly close enough to realize what I’d been looking at, and my face flushes.
He pushes himself off the doorframe, taking a step toward me, and suddenly the room feels much smaller than it is.
“I trust Ishla. I can’t say that about all the servants.”
Interesting. What makes Ishla so trustworthy? Can I trust Ishla, too?
“You told me I could trust you.” I cross my arms.
“And I meant it.” He steps even closer, exhaling a deep breath.
“But all you’ve done is lie.” Visions of his shadows flash through my mind.
He cocks his head. “I haven’t lied. I just haven’t—”
“Told the truth?”
He squints, but then those same eyes fix on my arms, which are fully visible in the sleeveless tunic I’m wearing.
His tunic.
His gaze doesn’t lift, and his stare is making me even more uncomfortable.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re just…so skinny.”
His words bring an immediate scowl to my face.
“Oh? Not up to your standards, am I?” I clench my fists, sick and tired of people always judging because of my size.
“That’s not what I meant.” A muscle ticks in his jaw, working overtime as he flexes it over and over again. “It’s just…you’re an Essentari, and typically Essentari—”
“Don’t look like me?” I take an aggressive step toward him, the distance between us vanishing. But now I don’t know who I’m madder at. Him or me.
Because he’s right.
Essentari don’t look like me. They aren’t weak like me.
“No, you misunderst—”
“Enough, you two,” Ishla interjects, coming out of the bathroom, the towel no longer in her hands. “And you, stop talking.” She points at Ryjax. “You’re only making it worse.”
His jaw falls open, but he closes it just as quickly. “Yes ma’am.” He gives her a quick nod, and I wonder if there’s something going on between them, a thought that has no business passing through my mind because I couldn’t care less if there was.
“Good,” she says with a smile that showcases most of her teeth.
“I’m going to go get you something to eat, Serafina.
You two behave while I’m gone.” She eyes us both pointedly, then disappears from the room, leaving us standing in silence.
But my silence is out of admiration because I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like Ishla before.
Why would she choose to become a servant? Had things really been so bad in her village that working in the palace was a better option?
Sure, things aren’t great in Village 28, but I’d rather be there than here, living amongst insufferable people and waiting on this man.
I place my hands on my hips. “Hear that, Ryjax? Best behave now.”
He bites his lip, and his eyes find the ground before shooting back up to meet mine. “She told you.”
“Don’t be mad at Ishla because she’s not as good at lying as you are. Unlike you, it doesn’t come easy to everyone.” Shadow wielder, I want to add, but there will be time for that conversation later.
“I didn’t want to lie to you about who I was. Who I am.”
“Then why did you?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because when you thought I was an Elite you ran away from me. Excuse me if I thought your reaction would have been worse if you knew who I really was. Am I wrong?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, the action somehow moving his shirt in a way that reveals more of his chest, drawing my eyes back to his tattoo, and to the muscles that look so smooth and defined.
I stare at his exposed skin, and he clears his throat.
Heat floods my cheeks again, and I look back up at him. “No,” I finally say.
“Exactly.” The way he says the word, as if he’s far too pleased with himself, has me grinding my teeth.
Just because he isn’t wrong doesn’t make lying right.
“But you still should have told me the truth.”
“If you knew who I was, then you never would have come to the Imperial City with me.”
He’s right. But now that I know who he is, I’m even more confused as to why he wanted me here in the first place.
“I’m not some charity case, you know.”
“I know.” He angles his head, and the golden flecks in his brown irises swirl.
“I won’t be treating you any differently,” I say, refusing to bow before his royal highness.
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” The corner of his mouth tilts up, but then he schools his features.
“Don’t lock me in here again. Promise me you won’t. I don’t…I don’t want to feel caged in like an animal.” I wrap my arms around myself, already hating how long I’ve gone without seeing the sun. Without feeling the heat on my skin and basking in its radiant glow.
He studies me for a moment, lips forming a straight line and eyes focused.
“I won’t lock the door. But you need to promise me something, too.
” He waits. Waits and waits for me to acknowledge his words, and when I finally nod, he continues.
“Promise not to leave this room. I’m not kidding when I say you’d be in danger if the wrong people saw you.
I may be the prince, and I may be able to keep your village from marking you as an evader, but there are some things I won’t be able to protect you from.
” His brows furrow, and I want to ask what those things are, but I know he won’t tell me.
“I promise,” I say, and I do mean it. I’ll stay in this room. For two months, I’ll stay put. But then I’m out of here. Back to Village 28. Back to my parents. And back to Char.
“Good,” he responds, but before he can say more, Ishla walks in with another platter of food.
I instantly lick my lips.
She removes the lid, and I rush toward it. There are three eggs and a big pile of brown meat.
For a moment, I hesitate. I’ve never seen chicken this color before. Has it spoiled? But then my stomach grumbles again, and I bite into it.
My jaw falls open after I swallow. If it is spoiled, then that’s how all chicken should be because it tastes delicious. I take another bite.
“What part of the bird does this come from?” Even the texture is different from what I’m used to.
“Bird?” Ryjax asks.
“Did I stutter?” Rolling my eyes, I refocus on the meat in front of me.
“It’s beef,” he says. “Like from a cow.”
We don’t have cows in Village 28. Lots of chickens. A few pigs. But no cows. I’m too embarrassed to tell him that I’ve never had cow before, so I don’t say anything.
“I’ll be back tonight to check in on you, Serafina,” Ishla says.
I groan at her statement, realizing she’s about to leave me alone with Ryjax again, and I don’t want to be alone with Ryjax. Especially if he keeps looking at me the way he does. Like I’m some weird experiment. Like I’m something he’s trying to figure out.
“Are you sure you can’t stay? You know…until…” My voice trails off because what am I trying to ask here? Until Ryjax leaves? Gods, I’d sound like a child.
“Until?” Ishla questions with a short laugh, and Ryjax’s eyes narrow.
He knows exactly what I was going to say.