35. Chapter Thirty-Five Siyala
Chapter Thirty-Five: Siyala
“Shouldn’t you return me to my cell?” I question after the food is finished.
I had swayed on the crate as I ate, so Xander suggested we move to the ground, dragging over what looked like a thickly woven tapestry aged by time and setting it down so that it butted up against the wall.
Frayed and thinned in places as it was, it was still softer than anything I had laid on in recent weeks, and I didn’t have it in me to feel embarrassed about the sigh I released as we sank down onto it.
“Eager to get back?” he asks from where he sits next to me, one long leg extended while the other is bent, his arm resting over it.
I am not, not in the slightest, but I know the danger of us lingering here.
While guards who aren’t Xander only ever come down to deliver food or pick up other prisoners, it doesn’t mean the risk isn’t there that we might be discovered.
Would the king kill him if he knew what Xander was doing?
Or would he make him watch as he hurt me?
Force Xander to hurt me? The thoughts all make my hands clammy and my stomach churn, and combined with the information about Rhea and the memory of Immie’s death still at the forefront of my mind, I need a distraction.
“Tell me something good, guardsman,” I blurt.
Xander tilts his head back so that it rests against the wall, a surprised chuckle punctuating the space between us. “I’m afraid good things are in short supply at the moment.”
“Then tell me the last good thing you remember.” At his silence, I look over at him, waiting until he meets my gaze. “Please.” I listen to the rhythm of his heart, its beat melodic in my ears as he looks my way. I think he might not do it, but then he closes his eyes and smiles.
“As a boy, I could be found with my nose in a book more often than not. My mother worked long days and nights, so to keep myself out of her way, I would devour books at what was probably a worrisome pace. My favorite stories were ones where the hero was unexpected. Not the brawny knight or confident prince but the quiet scholar. The man who chose to solve problems with his brain versus his fists or his status.”
“What was it about those stories that you liked?”
“I saw myself in those characters,” he says softly, a faint blush flushing his cheeks. I find it endearing that he blushes so easily. “My father wasn’t around, and with my mother working so much, I rarely partook in the activities that were common for boys my age.”
“Tell me about her.” At that, his eyes open and he turns to look at me. Thick lashes frame those dark eyes, his face gilded in the amber light of the flame gems.
“She was kind. Perhaps the kindest person I have ever known. There was a warmth about her that drew you in like a moth to a flame. We moved a lot throughout my childhood, unable to stay somewhere for more than a year, but in that time, she managed to make friends no matter where we went. People respected her and her talent as a seamstress.”
“She was a seamstress?”
He nods at my question, eyes taking on a faraway look. “It was how the king noticed her. She was the best at her job, able to do the most unique stitching.”
I look down at the hem of my tunic, running a solitary finger over the intricate pattern there.
The shirt fits loosely on me, like it belongs to someone much larger.
Someone more like Xander’s size. Sucking in a breath, I return my gaze to his, warmth layering over the sadness and worry present in my chest.
“Your turn,” he says, halting my next question before I have time to ask it. “Tell me something good that you remember.”
Temple resting against the stone, I stare at him, searching my memories for something worth sharing.
The one that comes to me prompts a grin, drawing Xander’s eyes down to my mouth.
“There was a night that Flynn, or I suppose the prince now, came to see Rhea. I could tell that she cared about him by that point, that it was crossing into something more. It made me nervous because, though he had only ever treated her kindly, I was scared of her getting hurt. She was so sad for so long after Alexi’s death, and Flynn—Prince Nox—gave her something to look forward to.
Something to get her out of bed each day, and that night, both of them looked like they wanted to finally cross that line.
” Xander’s face sours, and I clarify with a quick laugh.
“Not that line, but like they were going to kiss for the first time. Of course, in my fox form, I could not veto the idea in any rational way. He had asked her to dance, and I knew the moment was coming when their steps slowed and their eyes locked. It was so strange, being part of something so intimate but also being treated like I wasn’t there.
” A curious tightness balls in my throat, prompting me to clear it.
“They leaned in close, and right before their lips met, I interrupted them with a noise.”
“A noise?” Xander asks, part amused and part confused.
“Like a whine,” I say around my smile. “Anyway, it startled them apart, the moment thoroughly ruined, and though Rhea would never say it out loud, I know she was upset I had done it.”
“I don’t understand. Your happy memory is ruining a romantic moment for the princess?”
I roll my eyes, and Xander’s lips quirk.
“I realized that—had my life gone differently—I could have been sharing a similar moment with my older sister, Tiare, back home.” I run my finger along the hem of my tunic again, an embarrassed laugh tumbling out.
“Admittedly, I was also the slightest bit jealous at the prospect of her kissing him.” It’s in Xander’s immediate silence that I replay what I’ve said, my eyes growing wide at the admission.
“You wanted to kiss Flynn?”
“What? No. No, that isn’t what I meant.” Unconvinced, Xander stretches his bent leg out, eyes focused on the tops of his boots as a strange look tugs on his features.
“I meant, I was jealous at the idea of kissing someone for the first time out of attraction. Love. Whatever you want to call it.” I wince.
Gods, that somehow sounds even worse. “Never mind,” I rush out, turning my head forward and squeezing my eyes shut.
“It’s stupid.” If there are any gods listening, now would be the right time to strike me down.
“It isn’t stupid,” he finally says, and my eyes open again. “I can relate to the feeling.”
“You can?” The thought seems preposterous until I remember his rules, the last one specifically.
Never let anyone get close. I glance at him from the corner of my eye.
Did he create that rule to keep himself from falling for someone?
Or in response to someone hurting him? Why did either thought make me feel as if I had been punched in the gut?
Sensing my attention on him, Xander clears his throat and then stands, clearly avoiding that topic of conversation.
Extending his hand out to me, he helps me up, his fingers holding mine for a breath longer than necessary before releasing them.
But his eyes roam my face, assessing in a way that makes me want to ask what he sees when he looks at me. “I’m sorry I have to take you back.”
It’s the snap back to reality that we both need, even as I pretend not to notice on our walk back that Xander is shortening his strides or that he’s taking extra long to confirm that we are alone when we re-enter the room connected to the dungeon.
Melancholy hangs over me as I step back into my cell, and I’m grateful for the deep yawn that I release when I turn around to face Xander again.
Perhaps sleep will actually come to me now.
“I don’t know what the king is planning now that he knows exactly where the princess is and who she is with,” he says solemnly, hands resting at his hips.
“So if I can’t make it back within a day’s time, trust that there was no way to visit you safely.
” I nod, even if the thought is more than disappointing.
Even if that thought terrifies me. “But I have another gift to help pass the time.” Tugging the satchel he wears around to his front, he rummages through it before taking out a small book that he then holds out to me.
“Another book?” Taking it from him, I turn it over and read the title, a small gasp parting my lips. “Where did you get this?”
“The king took it from the tower on the night that you guys ran,” he answers, watching as I hug the book to my chest. “I thought it might be better served in your hands rather than his.”
Pressure builds annoyingly behind my eyes, but I manage to stave off the tears as he shuts and locks the cell door. “Thank you.”
He dips his head, and though his answering smile is small, it causes a fluttering in my stomach all the same. “I will see you soon, Siyala,” he says before retreating, off to return to the castle through the tunnels.
I crawl onto my cot and pull the thin blanket over my lap, setting the book on top of it as I trace the worn golden embossed title on the front. The Little Sun I read in my head, smiling before I turn to the first page.