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“I…” he tries to interject, but I’m not finished. “Or maybe you think I can turn myself into thin air and slip through the window? Oh, wait. You’ve sealed it shut, and now I can’t even breathe in here.”
Valdus takes a step toward me, and I stumble back. I know I’m more than a senseless princess. I’m a binder of life energy. If only I knew how to drain the last of the ethera out of him, I might not be afraid of what he might do if I anger him. But I don’t. I know very little of the curse bestowed on me by Evanae. I don’t even have my swords at my disposal or any blade sharp enough to cause harm.
I roll my hands into fists, fury roiling through me. I’m in a house of people who fight the emperor, a captive in a situation I have no possibility to control, a puppet of the will of others.
My gesture doesn’t escape Valdus’s attention. A frown creases his brow as he catches my gaze. “Why do you always think I’m out to do something evil to you?”
“We are on opposing sides. Sworn enemies even. I’m a princess, a devious daughter of the despicable emperor. And you’re a righteous rebel, a fighter for the next dawn.”
“Here I thought we’ve left that behind. I thought we were just Valdus and Neylan here.”
I swallow hard, anger draining from my features. My own words have come back to bite me. How fitting.
Valdus sighs. Before I can say a thing, he walks across the room. The metal window squeaks and groans, but finally slides open on the jammed rails just as it was when I awoke in this room for the first time.
“Do you know…” he starts, his hands still on the sill, his head falling down, as if the weight of the world lay upon his shoulders. “Can you even imagine how lucky you were it was Lara who stumbled upon you and not some drunken man with too much filth on his mind?”
“You mean like Numair?”
“He’s not the villain of this story.” Valdus sighs again and turns to me with a defeated look in his eyes. “Just promise me you won’t do something as foolish as trying to wander under the guards’ noses alone again?”
“Next time, I’ll explore the town with company.”
Valdus closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I’ve set myself up for that one.”
The unguarded way in which the always-serious rebel has said that makes a chuckle escape my lips, and I cover my mouth with my hands.
“Fine,” he says and slumps down in the armchair. “I’ll take you on a tour of the splendid town of The Broken Sands and all of its sublime attractions.”
Valdus picks up a glass of tea, and it’s only now that I notice that there are two sets of dishes on the tray. One for each of us.
I don’t dare to say a word, lest he’ll change his mind and only sit on the bed and pick my own scalding glass.
We nibble on our food in silence, each lost in our own thoughts, and neither of us is eager to resume our battle of words. I realize with a startle that I’m content with just sitting here. Feeling the evening breeze brush my face and taking the heat with it. If only this could last. If only I could stay away from the palace forever.
“I’ve brought you something.”
As Valdus rubs his hands together and clears his throat, I stuff my dreams and desires deep inside my mind. I’m a princess of Usmad. I wasn’t born to get what I want, but to serve my father’s will. So, I put down my bowl of soup and straighten my back, observing Valdus as he bends down to pick up the canvas bag from where he left it on the floor and passes it to me. A stack of papers peeks out from the cloth bag, and I jump up from the bed.
“Careful— “ Valdus starts.
“You’ve brought me a sketchbook?” I ask, tugging it out of the bag and revealing a simple metal cover.
Valdus has jumped to his feet too, reaching for me as if I might fall. He looks down at my ankle, a frown crinkling his brow.
“It’s just a dull ache now,” I say before he can ask about it.
“Are you just saying that to get out there as soon as you can?” he asks, motioning in the vague direction of the city.
“Who do you think I am?” I ask, trying to look much more offended than I actually am.
“What did you call yourself? A devious princess?”
An unbidden smile blossoms on my lips. “Thank you,” I say, clutching the sketchbook close to my chest. “Thank you for doing this for me.”
Valdus offers me a curt nod and drops back into the armchair, picking up his own bowl as if accepting my gratitude is too exhausting. “We won’t be visiting The Broken Sands until the end of the week,” he says, pointing with the spoon at my ankle. “I’m not one to believe in recoveries overnight.”
“Why agree to it at all?” I dare to ask, even if it means he might cancel the whole thing altogether.
