CHAPTER 14
Morning slipped into afternoon, which soon faded into night.
We had spent the afternoon wandering the grounds, the Prince taking notes of everything I did, noticed, and said.
Everything was alive here; everything had a purpose.
Exhaustion washed over me, and at the same time, my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten.
“Hungry, Sweetheart?” Obviously, hearing the low grumble, it had made.
And Sweetheart again? He needed to stop.
“I am not your Sweetheart, so you can stop calling me that, and yes, I am hungry. If you haven’t noticed, we’ve had a very busy day that did not involve a lot of eating.” I snapped back at him, not sure if I was hungry or hangry.
My mother used to joke and say I was hangry; hungry and angry, when I got into these moods when I hadn’t eaten, which was often, since we could not afford a lot of food.
“Then let’s go eat, swee...”
The look I shot him stopped him mid-sentence.
“Avyn.”
I followed him back into the manor and went to break off to head towards my room.
“Where are you going?” He asked, stopping in the entryway.
“To my room? Where my dinner is?” The sarcasm escaped from my lips before I could stop it. “Sorry, sir. I shouldn’t be so brash," remembering who I was talking to.
“First, you need to stop calling me sir. My name is Zendryk.”
My jaw dropped in response. Zendryk? It was so informal. I … couldn’t.
“Oh, don’t look like that, we are going to get to know each other a lot more, and I can’t handle hearing you call me sir or Prince every time. Secondly, we are going to eat in the dining hall tonight. My mother and father have already eaten, and there is plenty of food left.”
The dining hall. Oh, fuck, I couldn’t. This was too much.
“But sir… Uh... Pri…. uh Zendryk. I uh… I can’t eat there.” Staggering and stumbling to get the words to leave my mouth, “I’m just a servant, and eating there would be wrong.”
“You are not just a servant, not anymore, you are a guest here, and yes, you can eat there, and you will.” He turned and walked towards the dining room, leaving no room to argue.
We walked into the dining hall, and the table was already filled with all the food you could imagine: beef roasted to perfection, crispy-skinned chicken, seasoned potatoes, fresh green beans, corn, and desserts in every shape and size.
The Prince… Zendryk walked over to his chair and sat down, tossing his leg over the arm in his carefree way.
Looking from chair to chair, I was not sure where to sit, and Zendryk seemed to notice my hesitation.
“You can sit anywhere, except for those two chairs,” he pointed to the two chairs that his parents normally sat in. “It would be nice if you sat close to me so we can chat about our day, and we don’t have to yell across the table at each other.”
My pulse raced faster as I made my way around the table to the chair straight across from him and sat down, placing my hands in my lap, unsure of what to do.
Servants entered the room, and Mrs. Prast must have told them not to remove the food after the King and Queen had finished; she was always one step ahead of everyone else.
I watched every servant's gaze drift over to me, and disbelief flashed in their eyes, but they kept their composure, making their way to their stations.
One by one, they picked up a plate and offered it to the Prince…
Zendryk, and then to me. This felt so wrong, so awkward.
Just a couple of days ago, I was the one serving drinks, and now I was being served.
“I can serve myself,” I said, looking at Zendryk with pleading eyes, hoping he could sense how uncomfortable I was.
He contemplated for a moment and then raised his hand, “You’re all dismissed.”
The servants placed the platters they held down and retreated into the back servants’ hallway towards the kitchen, followed by a string of murmurs.
“Thank you.” Relief washed over me.
He reached across the table and grabbed a small bread roll, then stood to slice a piece of beef off the roast. It was odd to watch him do the tasks the servants normally did.
I was not sure where to start myself; everything looked so enticing.
I reached for the small berry tart closest to me and put it on my plate.
“Dessert first?” Raising an eyebrow at me, he asked while grabbing a scoop of potatoes.
My lips curved in a small smile while thinking of a fond memory, “My mother always said, ‘Life is uncertain, eat dessert first.’ Anytime we were able to afford a small treat, we would eat it first.” I took a bite of the tart, and the crust crumbled down the front of my shirt.
“Oops,” I said through a mouthful of tart and brushed away the crumbs.
“Well then, I like the way your mother thinks,” and he reached for a tiny chocolate tart and popped the whole thing in his mouth. “Mmmmmm, so decadent.” His moan sent a ripple through my body, down to the hidden place between my legs.
I pressed my thighs together, hoping to suppress the feeling from spreading, but it intensified with the pressure.
“So, what will we be doing tomorrow?” I tried to distract myself from the reaction my body had to his low rumbling moan.
“I am hoping the Professor found something today. I plan to meet with him first thing in the morning.”
We enjoyed the small talk during dinner, talking of fond memories from our childhood.
I learned that he had been friends with Ulric since practically birth.
Ulric and his family were among a group of wandering travelers and came across the manor many years ago.
He was a young boy when he met the Prince, and ever since that day, they have been inseparable.
He didn’t talk too much about Ulric’s parents, just that they continued their journey, leaving their son here with the Prince, which was odd, and something I would have to ask about later.
He then went on to tell me about all the trouble the two of them got into, breaking antique vases, putting too much spice in the cook’s food, and teasing the servant girls in their teen years.
I guess some things didn’t change for those two.
After dinner, I made my way back to my room but stopped to view the family portraits that lined the walls.
The guard who was shadowing me stopped several feet away, not hurrying me or telling me what to do.
This was so fucking weird, being able to go about things at my own leisure.
The portraits were all the same: Queen Leyala and King Rozin sitting on their thrones.
As I walked down the line of portraits, I noticed that they hardly aged.
You could tell they were taken at different times because the painted backgrounds and décor around them varied from one to the next, yet they remained the same.
How did they stay so young-looking? Compared to Zendryk, they were still older, but reigning for all these years without aging?
It had to be part of being immortal. I reached the final painting, and examined each of their features, trying to pick out any that resembled the pri…
. Zendryk’s…. This was going to be hard to break; years of lessons on formality would be hard to change.
The king’s hair was as dark as Zendryk's; compared to his present hair, which was starting to lose its color, and he had the same stature, nose, and mouth. But his eyes, those belonged to his mother; King Rozin had dark brown eyes. Zendryk’s eyes, though…
even though similar, they were still different from his mother’s…
. They had life in them; his mother’s eyes were dead.
I recalled when he grabbed my arms the night of his homecoming, and his eyes, those beautiful stormy-ocean eyes, pierced my soul.
They were entrancing, and I bet they could read every thought going through my head at that moment.
Shaking my head, I walked towards my door, and the guard followed not far behind, sticking to me like a shadow.
I closed the door behind me after I entered, and the audible clicking sound of the lock falling back into place filled the space.
I was not a prisoner, yet they locked me in here.
I scoffed at the thought and changed into my nightgown, noticing that my dirty clothes had been taken away and that new clothes had been lined up in the wardrobe and drawers as I did so.
I would have to go through them tomorrow, as I was so exhausted from the busy day.
Crawling into bed and resting my head on a pillow, I pulled up the blankets and replayed everything I saw; the images slowly drifted off into dreams of flying horses and dancing willow trees.
The morning sun sent shadows of leaves and branches gliding across my room. I stayed curled up under the blanket, pulling it up to my chin, reveling in the luxurious comfort, when suddenly my door swung open, and Zendryk walked in with not a care in the world.
“DO YOU MIND?!” I said sternly, yanking the blanket up higher to make sure I was fully covered.
“Again, no, I don’t.” He replied, crossing the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. On my bed. The one I was still in, wearing my nightgown.
“This isn’t appropriate, sir!” I bit back at him.
“Don’t call me that,” he said, leaning back on his two arms, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “The Professor is waiting for us. Time to rise and shine.”
He looked at me, and that devilish grin spread across his face before he yanked the blanket off. “Get to it.”
I scrambled and grabbed a pillow to cover my chest before he could see. The nightgown was satin and didn’t leave anything to the imagination.
“I’ll get to it when you get out!” I pointed at the door!
“So temperamental.” he stood and walked to the door before stopping, looking back at me, “I’ll be waiting outside the door, see you in ten minutes.” He winked and closed the door behind him.