Arun

  Even after a night’s rest, the sight of the healing room makes me stop in the doorway. Everything is in perfect order waiting for me to use it.

  Alexios did this.

  For me.

  I move slowly through the space as my fingertips graze the smooth wood of the central table and the cool glass of the bottles. There’s this quiet in here that feels different from the rest of the manor.

  I’m still taking everything in when footsteps approach from the hall. Alexios appears in the doorway, his long hair hanging loose over his shoulders. His expression is unreadable, but somehow… softer than usual.

  “Settling in?” he asks as his gaze sweeps over the room before landing on me.

  I nod.

  “I still can’t believe you did this for me.”

  “You’d better start believing it,” he says lightly, stepping inside. “This is yours. If you’d like, you can bring some of the books from my study in here too. Might be useful if you need to look something up while you’re working.”

  The offer catches me off guard.

  “You’d… let me take books out of your study?”

  “For you? Yes.”

  I hesitate before tilting my head.

  “Why are you giving me so much freedom?”

  He leans against the table and his eyes meet mine without flinching.

  “Does there need to be a reason?”

  “Yes,” I say quietly.

  He considers me for a moment and the silence stretches until I think he might actually answer.

  Finally, he says, “Because you’re not a servant, Arun. You can have as much freedom as you want and as much as you need.”

  That catches me off guard, but… I’m not sure why.

  He goes on, his tone steady.

  “You’ve shown you can be trusted with it. That’s enough.”

  I look away, letting my fingers drift over the smooth wood again.

  “Then… thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

  His eyes return to me, something unreadable flickering in them.

  “I know you will.”

  Before I can decide what to do next, there’s a soft knock at the open doorway. One of the servants stands there, hands clasped in front of her. She glances between me and Alexios, almost as if she’s not really sure who she should be speaking to right now.

  “Forgive me,” she says. “The man you healed yesterday… he’s awake and asking for you. He wants to know if he can come in.”

  I straighten immediately.

  “Of course. Bring him here.”

  She nods and disappears down the hall. Beside me, Alexios tilts his head, watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.

  “You’re eager.”

  “He nearly died,” I say simply. “If he’s well enough to walk here, I want to see for myself how he’s doing.”

  Alexios nods and moves aside so I can prepare the table.

  It isn’t long before the servant returns with the injured servant from yesterday leaning on her arm. He moves slowly but steadily and when he steps into the room, his eyes dart around like he’s in awe.

  I gesture toward the padded chair beside the table.

  “Sit. Let me see how you’re healing.”

  He obeys and rolls up his trouser leg so I can examine. Thankfully, there’s no scar left. It’s clean and closed, but I can tell the muscle is still tender. I rest my hands just above the ankle, closing my eyes as I call up the magic. Warmth spreads from my fingertips, threading into the tissue to ease the soreness and strengthen what’s still fragile.

  It’s a small thing compared to yesterday, but I can feel Alexios’s eyes on me the entire time. When I finish and step back, he speaks.

  “Your magic is beautiful,” he says quietly. “Mine… mine comes more from rage.”

  I glance up at him, surprised.

  “I’ve never really seen you angry. Rageful.”

  From the corner of my eye, I catch one of the servants glancing sharply at me and her expression shifts to… something before she quickly drops her gaze to the floor.

  Worry?

  Disapproval?

  Alexios notices too, but his expression doesn’t change. His eyes linger for a moment longer before he steps back toward the door.

  “I have work to get back to,” he says. “If you need anything at all, please tell me.”

  I nod and he leaves without another word. I listen as his footsteps fade down the hall. The room feels different without him in it.

  Later on, I’m tidying up the table when the servant who glanced at me earlier speaks under her breath.

  “You’ve never seen him angry?” she says, but she’s not really looking at me. “Then you’ve never really seen him.”

  The other servant shoots her a warning look, but they both just press their lips together and go back to folding linens as if the comment hadn’t been made at all.

  I’m not really sure how to respond to that and the words settle heavy in my chest. I set the folded cloth back on the table.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  The servant glances at me, then quickly away.

  “Nothing, sir. Just… he can be different. When he’s angry.”

  “Different how?” I press.

  She hesitates, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

  “It’s not my place to say.”

  The other servant mutters something about getting back to work, clearly eager to end the conversation. But the first one’s shoulders are tense, like she’s already said more than she meant to.

  I watch them for a moment longer, then return to arranging the supplies, but their words carry.

  The day wears on and by mid afternoon, another servant is brought into the healing room. His skin flushed and damp with sweat, his steps unsteady.

  “Heat stroke,” another servant says, worry in her voice.

  I move quickly as I guide the servant to sit. A cool cloth goes to his forehead while I give him reassurance. The magic comes easily, flowing from my hands into his body as it coaxes the heat down, steadying his breath and pulse. By the time the light fades from my palms, his color is already better.

  He take a long drink of water, sighing in relief.

  “Thank you,” he says earnestly.

  Then, with a faint smile, he adds, “Not many here would do that for us.”

  I pause as I’m wringing out the cloth.

  “What do you mean?”

  He glance toward the door, lowering his voice.

  “The master doesn’t… concern himself much with the servants. Not unless it’s work or discipline.”

  The comment hangs between us and I realized… it’s edged with truth and caution.

  That evening, the servants draw my bath and I watch as the steam curls up into the candlelight. I sink into the warmth, the tension of the day easing from my muscles as they work quietly around me. One rinses my hair and another puts down a robe nearby.

  I let a few moments pass before speaking, doing my best to keep my tone casual.

  “Tell me something about Alexios.”

  The servant pouring warm water over my shoulders hesitates.

  “What would you like to know, sir?”

  “Anything,” I say, tilting my head back. “What he’s like when he’s not… hosting guests or speaking to me.”

  They exchange a quick look. The younger of the two, the one who helped me with the heat-struck servant earlier, finally says, “The master keeps to himself. He can be generous… but only when it suits him.”

  “And when it doesn’t suit him?” I ask.

  There’s another pause and then the older servant sighs before speaking.

  “Then he’s… not someone you want to cross.”

  The words are careful, but the weight behind them is just… unmistakable.

  After the bath, the servants help me into a fresh robe, the fabric soft and warm against my skin. I thank them quietly before stepping out into the hall before making my way toward the study.

  Alexios is seated at his desk when I enter and the moment his eyes lift to me, they linger but not on my face. His eyes sweep over the drape of the robe over my shoulders and the loose tie at my waist. There’s a look in them that almost takes my breath away. He’s looking at me like temptation itself just walked into the room.

  Before he can even speak or act on whatever thought just crossed his mind, I break the silence.

  “Do you treat the servants differently than you treat me?”

  His gaze keeps raking over my body as he answers my question.

  “Obviously,” he says. “They work for me. You are not here to scrub floors or carry trays. You’re here to share my table, my company… and other things if you wish.”

  His voice dips lower at the end in a very seductive manner. Heat rises in my face, but I keep my tone steady.

  “So it’s about… pleasure?”

  “Not just pleasure,” he says as he leans back in his chair, studying me with a slow gaze. “It’s about your presence. It’s about having someone worth looking at when the rest of the day is nothing but business.”

  The way he says it makes me feel like his eyes are tracing every inch of me through the robe. I know he means it as some kind of compliment, but the way it echoes in my head feels… hollow.

  Am I only here because I’m just… pleasant to have a room?

  Do I matter beyond that?

  I glance away and my fingers tighten in the fabric of my robe.

  “I see,” I whisper. My voice comes out much quieter than I even intended.

  When I look back, his gaze is still on me, but it’s just as unreadable as ever. If he notices the shift in my expression, he won’t address it. He sets his quill down and leans back in his chair as he watches me.

  “Is that what you really mean though?” I ask, my voice steadier now. “That I’m just… something nice to look at when you’re bored with business?”

  His eyes sharpen at that, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his face before it softens. He leans forward slightly, forearms resting on the desk. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean?” I press.

  “I meant that you make the rest of the day worth enduring. When the ridiculous negotiations and the boring as fuck meetings are over, you’re the one person in this house that feels alive. I always look forward to being around you, Arun. You are the highlight of my day.”

  The words take the air out of me for a moment and I realize there’s no seductive smirk or lazy charm. It’s real and I have to look away.

  “That still sounds like an excuse,” I say, my voice firmer this time.

  “It’s not an excuse. It’s the truth.”

  He sits forward again, resting his elbows on the desk.

  “I have to be in charge, Arun. If I’m not, things fail and they come apart. Certain things here would not work if the servants were allowed to slack.”

  There’s a conviction in his tone that makes it clear he believes every word, but it also makes me wonder what exactly “things coming apart” looks like in his mind. I fold my arms, meeting his eyes without looking away.

  “You talk like they’re machines. They’re people, Alexios. People don’t just ‘slack’ for no reason. They get tired, sick, overworked. Maybe things wouldn’t come apart if they weren’t pushed to the point of breaking.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  His jaw tightens.

  “And maybe things wouldn’t run at all if I allowed them to work at their own whim. You think kindness keeps a household like this in order? It doesn’t. Authority does, my love.”

  I feel a flare of heat in my chest, frustration pressing through it.

  “Authority isn’t the same thing as cruelty.”

  For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air between us is tense and it feels like that brief little second before a storm breaks.

  But… the edge in his voice fades. His shoulders ease back against the chair and he exhales through his nose.

  “I suppose… you’re right,” he admits, but his words sound a bit… hesitate. “I just… I’ve been in places where letting people slip, even once, meant disaster. It’s a hard habit to unlearn.”

  The tension in my chest eases just a little.

  “Maybe it’s one worth trying to unlearn.”

  He gives me a small but genuine smile. I’m grateful for it.

  “Maybe.”

  --

  As I wake in the morning, I realize I’m up before the sun has risen and more importantly, Alexios is likely still asleep.

  It gives me an idea.

  I slip my plush robe on and make my way downstairs. The manor is still draped in the hush of the early morning and the kitchen feels rather foreign to me. Finding the kettle takes me longer than I care to admit, but eventually I set it over the coals of the hearth and rummage through the cupboards for tea leaves and maybe something sweet to go with them.

  I’m reaching up for a jar of dried fruit when I hear footsteps. I expect to see one of the cooks, but instead it’s two servants coming in from the courtyard. Their arms are full of product baskets and I realize they have no idea I’m here.

  “…don’t know what he’s even doing here,” one says as she sets down a crate of apples with a thump.

  “Mm,” the other hums, pulling off his gloves. “Pretty face. That’s all it is. He’ll tire of him soon enough.”

  “Or ruin him,” the first one adds, voice low but cutting. “He does that.”

  I stand frozen in the shadow of the pantry doorway, the kettle beginning to steam softly behind me.

  They still haven’t noticed me.

  The man pulls a bundle of herbs from one of the baskets as he smirks faintly.

  “Though I suppose that’s the point. Master likes them soft and pretty. Easy to bend over a table.”

  The woman lets out a sharp laugh.

  “Probably already has. That’s why he keeps him. Looks like the type to just lie there and take it.”

  “I’ve seen the way Master looks at him. Bet he’s got him doing all sorts of things upstairs… and he probably says ‘thank you’ for it.”

  “He acts so sweet and proper. Makes you wonder what he sounds like when Master’s got his hands on him.”

  “Loud,” the man says with a grin. “Or maybe he’s the kind that tries to keep quiet. Either way, won’t last long. Master’ll use him up then toss him aside when he’s bored. Maybe send him to the stables. Those boys would make quick work of him.”

  The woman laughs again, low and mean.

  “If he’s lucky.”

  The kettle whistles suddenly, shrill in the quiet kitchen, and both of them whip around. Their eyes go wide when they see me standing in the pantry doorway.

  The kettle’s whistle is a sharp, endless sound in my ears, but it’s nothing compared to the burn rising behind my eyes.

  The ugly amusement drains from their faces and I can’t tell if it’s genuine shame or just fear of being caught. My throat feels so tight and I can’t even speak. I just stand there with my fingers curling against the edge of the doorway as tears threaten to spill from my eyes.

  The kettle hisses on, but neither of them moves to stop it.

  I turn sharply and push past the doorway, barely aware of my own footsteps as I rush down the hall. By the time I reach my room, the tears I’d been fighting are pouring down my face.

  I shut the door harder than I mean to and lean against it for a moment as the heat in my face builds. The words keep replaying in my head and each one sinks deeper.

  I cross the room quickly, pull the curtains closed and sit on the edge of the bed, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hate that they’ve gotten to me. I hate that I even care, but I do.

  I’m still sitting there trying to quiet my sobs when I hear footsteps in the hall. A sharp knock comes.

  “Arun?” Alexios’s voice.

  I swipe at my face, but my hands are trembling.

  “I don’t… I don’t want to talk right now.”

  There’s a pause then the door opens anyway. He steps inside, his expression tightening the instant he sees me.

  “You’re crying.”

  “I’m fine,” I lie, though the words wobble. My tears keep slipping no matter how many times I brush them away.

  Alexios crosses the room, kneeling in front of me so we’re eye level.

  “What happened, my love?”

  His voice is softer now, but there’s concern underneath mixed with restrained anger.

  I shake my head and continue staring at the floor.

  “It’s… nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing if it has you like this,” he says firmly. “Please tell me. I want to fix it.”

  The pressure in my chest builds and my lips part, but the words won’t come just yet. I keep my eyes fixed on the floor. Alexios’s hand rests lightly on my knee to comfort me.

  “Arun,” he says quietly. “I can’t make it better if I don’t know what it is.”

  I shake my head again, swallowing hard. “It’s stupid.”

  His tone softens even more. “If it’s hurting you, it isn’t stupid.”

  I risk a glance up at him and I am captured in the steady look of his eyes. His concern is so… genuine.

  “Was it something I did?” he asks.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “Something someone said?” he tries again, his voice like silk over stone.

  That gets me. I close my eyes and when I nod, he doesn’t push immediately. He just waits as his thumb brushes slowly over the fabric of my robe.

  “Who?”

  I take a shaky breath.

  “Some of the servants. In the kitchen.”

  The moment I say it, I wish I could pull the words back. My throat feels tight again and I can’t meet his eyes.

  Alexios’s hand stills on my knee.

  “What did they say?”

  I shake my head, staring at the rug.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me. So much.”

  I try to swallow, but the lump in my throat won’t go away.

  “It was just… cruel and…” My voice falters and I glance toward the window as if I could look anywhere but at him.

  “And what?” he prompts, leaning in slightly.

  My fingers curl into the fabric of my robe.

  “And filthy,” I whisper.

  His posture changes. It feels almost… dangerous, but his voice stays even.

  “Arun… I need you to tell me what they said.”

  I take a break, but it shakes all the way through.

  “They… they said you only keep me because I’m pretty and that I just lie there and take it.”

  Alexios doesn’t move, but his eyes darken.

  “What else did they say?”

  “They said you’ll use me up and toss me aside when you’re bored. You’ll send me to the stables next so the boys there can use me too.”

  The words are so foul and I wish I’d never had to repeat them. My hands are clenched so tightly in my robe that my knuckles ache.

  For a heartbeat, Alexios is utterly still. His eyes are still locked on mine, but there is no softness in them anymore. There’s something darker burning in there and the air between us shifts.

  When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, almost like it’s a growl.

  “Arun… I’m sorry for what I’m about to do. I know you wanted me to be more gentle, but this… this is not the time.”

  His hand flexes slightly at his side and a sick twist coils in my stomach.

  “Alexios, no…”

  He straightens and every movement looks like a predator already set on its prey.

  “They said that to your face?” he asks.

  “They didn’t know I was there,” I admit quickly, stepping toward him. “But…”

  “That’s enough,” he cuts in. “I’ve heard enough.”

  “Please don’t, Alexios.”

  I reach for him, but he’s already moving, striding to the door with long, purposeful steps. The change in him is frightening and the measured calm he so often wears has fractured, leaving something dangerous in its place.

  He pulls the door open and I dart forward.

  “Alexios, STOP! Please!”

  The door slams with a force that makes the windows rattle and before I can grab the handle, I hear a low hum of magic coil and twist in the air. It’s not just closed now.

  He’s locked me inside.

  “Alexios!” I slam my palms against the wood and rattle the handle, but it isn’t budging one bit. “Don’t do this!”

  From the other side, his voice comes and the quietness of it is far more dangerous than any shout.

  “Stay here.”

  I hit the door again.

  “You don’t have to do this!”

  But the sound of his footsteps is already moving away.

  I lean my forehead against the door and my hands grip the handle until my knuckles ache.

  Silence swallows the hallway beyond until I finally hear the echo of another door opening somewhere in the manor followed by voices. I know with cold certainty that no matter how loudly I shout, I won’t be able to stop him.

  I push away from the door and cross the room in a rush. My fingers fumble at the curtains, yanking them aside until the morning light burst into the room.

  The grounds stretch out below, but from this angle, the courtyard is half-hidden by the slant of the roof and the tall hedge that borders it. I press my hands to the glass and lean forward, scanning for any sign of him.

  Finally, I hear his voice.

  It cuts through like a poisoned blade, but I can’t really make out all the words. The tone itself is enough to make my stomach twist. I hear other voices too. They are higher-pitched and stumbling over what sounds like pleas and excuses.

  Then I hear Alexios again, much louder this time as he snaps orders. The sound echoes up through the walls and it feels almost like the house itself is carrying his anger too.

  A group of servants comes into view at the far edge of the courtyard. He’s driving them forward and pushing them into a tighter space. I recognize two of them instantly. They are the same two from the kitchen and even at this distance, I can see how stiffly they move.

  They are bracing for something.

  They disappear just beyond my sightline again, swallowed by the shadow of a hedge, but I can still hear.

  Crack!

  It’s so loud that I flinch back from the window.

  It’s followed by another.

  Then another.

  The sound is sharp and almost rhythmic, each one landing with a finality that makes me gasp. The murmuring voices turn to full cries of pain.

  I can’t see them, but I know. I know what it sounds like.

  He’s lashing them.

  The cadence of the strikes is steady and measured. Between blows, I hear his voice, words carrying even without being fully clear. I catch fragments before the next crack splits the air.

  “Slander… disrespect… consequences…”

  My hands press harder against the glass and I want to look away, to turn from the window, but I can’t. The crying grows ragged. The hedge shivers as someone shifts against it. Possibly stumbling forward under the force.

  Another blow. Another cry.

  The next crack lands harder than the last and it’s so sharp that it feels like it’s inside my skull.

  My breath catches and then it breaks apart entirely.

  “Stop,” I whisper at first, my palms sliding down the glass. “Please, stop…”

  The next cry from below is louder and strained with panic. Before I know it, my voice is rising, cracking under the weight of it.

  “Alexios!”

  I slam my hand against the windowpane, my reflection blurring with tears.

  “Alexios, stop!”

  The sound bounces back at me, muffled by the glass.

  Another lash. Another sob from one of them.

  “Please!” My voice is hoarse now, the words tumbling out between shuddering breaths. “You don’t have to… Alexios, stop!”

  But the relentless strikes keep coming, each one dragging another cry from the servants. I press my forehead hard against the glass, sobbing so violently my shoulders shake.

  I know he can’t hear me, but I keep screaming his name anyway as if somehow the sound might reach him. As if somehow, it might be enough to make him put down the tool he’s holding.

  My voice gives out before the lashes do.

  Somewhere beyond the hedge, the cries turn into muffled whimpers. Then eventually, those fade too. I’m left with only the quiet echo of movement. I hear the shuffle of feet and the murmur of Alexios’s voice.

  I sink down from the window and my back hits the wall as I pull my knees to my chest. My robe tangles awkwardly around me and the fabric twists in my fists as if I could just wring the sounds out of existence, but I can’t.

  The sounds are still ringing in my ears, replaying over and over until they blur into one thing…

  The certainty that Alexios didn’t stop until he decided to.

  The room is too quiet with only my crying filling it. It feels like the tears may never end. The quiet stretches so long that I almost start to believe he won’t come back at all. My eyes are raw and I’ve lost all sense of how much time has passed when the lock finally clicks.

  I flinch.

  The door opens slowly and Alexios steps inside. His clothes are immaculate again. There’s no trace of what he’s done clinging to them.

  “Arun.”

  His voice is calm, but there’s an undercurrent there. Something caught between satisfaction… and regret.

  I don’t move from where I’m sitting on the floor. My arms are still wrapped around my knees, but my grip has loosened from absolute exhaustion.

  He closes the door behind him and takes a step closer.

  “It’s done.”

  I can’t tell if the words are meant to comfort me or to end the conversation entirely.

  “It’s done,” he says again, softer this time.

  The words don’t make me feel any safer. My nails press into my arms as I shrink back instinctively against the wall. The sounds are still vibrating through my bones.

  Alexios steps slow as his posture shifts. He’s not the looming figure I imagine was in that courtyard, but something smaller now.

  “Arun… I’m not going to hurt you,” he says.

  I don’t believe him. The sounds in my mind won’t let me.

  “You…” I try to speak but my voice cracks and I have to swallow before I can even try speaking again. “You were screaming at them… hitting them. I could hear it all. It sounded like you weren’t going to stop. Ever.”

  His jaw tightens and he crouches down so we’re level.

  “They will never speak about you that way again,” he states firmly.

  I shake my head and fresh tears sting my eyes.

  “I didn’t want you to do that for me.”

  “They crossed a line,” he cuts in. For a moment, I see the same fire in his eyes again, but then it dims. He reaches out slowly and I flinch. “I need you to know… you’re safe here with me.”

  “Am I?”

  My voice is barely a whisper and the question hangs heavy between us. It’s heavier than anything else either of us has ever said.

  His hand stops halfway between us, hovering in the air before it drops back to his side. For a moment, all I can hear is my own uneven breathing and the faint creak of the floor beneath his boots.

  He doesn’t move closer.

  Neither do I.

  “You are,” he says finally. His tone makes it feel more like a verdict than a promise.

  The silence between us stretches. The air is too heavy and I can still feel the tremor in my own fingers where they grip my knees.

  Alexios straightens slowly and the shift makes me want to retreat further into the wall. He watches me for another long moment and I wonder if he can see the fear sitting in my chest.

  When he speaks again, it’s softer, but no less certain.

  “I did what needed to be done. Rest, Arun.”

  His expression goes back to that damn unreadable look again as he turns toward the door. Something in me snaps as he takes a step towards it.

  “Rest?” My voice comes out hoarse and raw from crying, but it’s thankfully sharp enough to stop him. “That’s all you have to say to me after… after that?”

  Alexios turns back and his eyes narrow slightly.

  “I’ve already told you…”

  You hurt them,” I say, cutting in as my chest heaves. “You enjoyed hurting them!”

  “Don’t pretend they didn’t deserve it after what they said about you.”

  “That’s not the point!” I push myself to my feet and my legs tremble, but I force myself to stand. “You think I want to be the reason you do that to people?”

  “They humiliated you, Arun. They made you cry. I am not going to let anyone do that without consequence.”

  He takes a step closer and even though his voice is low, it carries a dangerous edge. My heart is pounding, but I hold my ground.

  “You could have done a thousand other things, but you didn’t. You wanted to see them hurt.”

  For a moment or two, it looks like he wants to argue, but then his expression hardens into something cold.

  “You don’t understand what it means to lead. To be feared.”

  “I don’t want to understand that,” I snap back.

  Alexios’s eyes narrow again and that unflinching mask starts to slip.

  “Fear keeps order. Without it, everything falls apart. They’d walk all over me and you. Is that what you want?”

  I take a step toward him before I realize I’m doing it.

  “I don’t want people to be terrified just to make your life easier!”

  “It’s not about easier. It’s about survival. Mine. Yours. The manor.”

  I shake my head in frustration.

  “That’s not survival. That’s cruelty. You could have…”

  “I could have what? Given them a warning? A slap on the wrist? Do you think that would’ve stopped them from talking about you like that again? Do you think they would’ve respected you?”

  “I don’t care about their respect!” I fire back. “I care that you turned into someone I didn’t even recognize!”

  That makes him pause, but only for a second.

  “That someone is part of me.”

  The words hit me like a cold wave and I can’t help but wonder something.

  “What happens when that part turns on me, Alexios? What then?”

  I see the anger and hurt paint his face before it’s gone in an instant, replaced by absolute stillness.

  “That will never happen, Arun.”

  I take a step toward him, unable to stop myself.

  “You can’t promise that. Not when I just saw what you’re capable of.”

  I see his eyes flash and the tight leash he keeps on himself starts to slip even more.

  “What I’m capable of is the reason you’re safe here! Do you think anyone else would protect you the way I do?”

  “Protect me?” My voice cracks into a bitter laugh. “You’re scaring me more than they ever did!”

  His expression twists into something rather defensive.

  “If fear is what keeps you alive, then so be it.”

  “Then maybe I don’t want to be here.”

  His jaw clenches so tightly that I can practically hear his teeth grind. For a moment, I think he might shout at me again, but instead, all the anger drains from his face. He exhales slowly and it feels like a door has slammed shut between us.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Maybe I do, Alexios.”

  Silence.

  Then he turns with his back to me.

  “Rest now, love. I have work to do.”

  His tone is flat now and completely stripped of any warmth. Without looking at me again, he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. My knees give out before I realize I’m moving and I sink onto the edge of the bed. My hands are shaking so badly that I have to curl them into fists just to make it stop, but it doesn’t help at all.

  I try to take in a breath, but it’s jagged and painful. The next one is even worse and I’m hunched forward with my forehead pressed to my knees. The tears are hot as they slip through the cracks I’d been trying hard to hold together.

  I try to will the sounds from the courtyard to stop replaying in my head, but they don’t . They just keep coming back, sharper and louder until it’s all I can hear.

  Somewhere in between those sounds and the hollow feeling in my heart, I start to wonder if I’ve made a mistake being here at all.

  --

  I can’t bring myself to move. My body feels so unbelievably heavy and my eyes are raw from the hours I spent crying.

  Somewhere below, faint clinks of cutlery and the muffled murmur of voices drift up from the dining room. Breakfast has come and gone without me.

  A soft knock breaks the stillness.

  “Arun?”

  It’s Alexios.

  His voice is steady and controlled again.

  “You didn’t come down to eat.”

  I keep my eyes on the blanket twisted in my fists.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  There’s a pause on the other side of the door.

  “Then I’ll have something sent up.”

  “I don’t want anything,” I answer. My voice is flat and quiet, but there’s no mistaking the edge in it. “Just… leave me alone.”

  The silence that follows is so long that I almost think he’s gone, but then I hear him shift his weight.

  “We should talk.”

  I swallow hard, forcing my voice to hold steady.

  “Not today.”

  This time, his footsteps really do retreat and they fade down the hall until the only sound left is the faint ticking of the clock inside my room. I curl up under the covers and shut my eyes against the light, begging for sleep to take me again and spare me the rest of the day.