“No, not really,” I reply with a shrug, and groan at the ache between my shoulders. Dropping my brush with a sigh, I roll my neck, trying to work out the tight muscles. “You’re right, I am tired. I’ve been having nightmares.”
Since I’m still looking up, I catch the pained expression that crosses his face, but it’s gone in a minute and his usual blank mask is in place once again. For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to say anything, and instead shut down like he usually does when we have a conversation about anything even vaguely personal.
“I understand the horror of nightmares.”
I pause in my stretching and look over at him in surprise. “You get them?”
“Every night,” he replies with a slight nod, his face grave now. I feel bad for bringing it up, I hate seeing his face like that.
Wait, when did I start having feelings like that for an elf? I question, realising I would be upset if anything happened to him. Are we friends? That is a startling revelation. Sitting back on the hard floor, I frown as I try to work through my thoughts. Why is the prospect of being friends with the elf bad? Because he is supposed to be my enemy? Down here, when I am as much of a prisoner as he is, things like race don’t seem to be important anymore. I’m very aware he is dangerous, but I’m not afraid of him anymore. Not to mention he could have left without you as soon as you broke the spell on those cuffs, but he didn’t. He’s waiting for you. I reach up and rub at the ache in my chest, blowing out a pent-up breath and wishing my life hadn’t become so complicated.
“When are we leaving?” he queries, as if he can sense my thoughts. “It’s getting harder for me to pretend that I don’t have magic, it gets stronger every day.”
Guilt rolls through me again. I know I can’t keep making him wait, it’s not fair, but something is holding me back, I just wish I knew what it was.
“Soon. Something big is coming, I can feel it.” That is the only way I can think to explain it, and I don’t expect him to understand—barely do. “I promise.”
The heavy pause between us is thick with tension, and I expect him to put up a fight, but he just nods and goes back to his work. Letting out a deep breath, I return to cleaning the floors, looking up and watching him occasionally. I enjoy seeing him work, the way the light from the fire glistens off his muscled back. He’s scarred in places, and his tattoos cover large swathes of skin.
I want to trace those tattoos with my tongue. I startle myself with that thought and drop my brush in surprise. I’ve never had thoughts like that before, especially not about Vaeril. Is that such a bad thing? A hot blush covers my cheeks and I duck my head, focusing on the spot of dirt I’m struggling to remove.
The next couple of hours pass in silence, and as the guards mete out my daily beating, our eyes meet and I see the heavy, knowing look Vaeril gives me.
Soon. We will escape soon.
“I don’t know how much longer we can keep it up,” Jayne tells me, as she helps me into my evening gown. I know what she’s saying, that we won’t be able to aid many more servants and their children.
“I know,” is all I say in reply, feeling sick to my stomach that I can’t do more.
The guards have already rounded up a few children to be slaves, and I’ve overheard ladies talking about some of their older friends who have the awful decision to make regarding which child will to go to the kingdom. I wish I could help them all, both the children of the servants and the nobility, but I just don’t trust that the nobility wouldn’t turn me in out of loyalty.
“I heard a rumour in the kitchens that several servants and their families have disappeared,” Jayne says quietly. We are being more careful with our words, even in my own rooms, as there are ears everywhere. “They say they are just disappearing in the night, and that the guards are patrolling the hallways and security has been upped. For our own protection of course,” she continues, brushing my magicked golden locks and pulling them back with