I want peace.
For no one to stare at me.
A safe, enclosed space.
And to wash blood off my body.
“Of course.”
I think he kissed the side of my head through the thick fabric of the hood, and I don’t know how to feel about that. I’m soexhausted thinking about any kind of affection is far off my radar. The weeks of terror are crashing into my body. Once I’m in a warm bed, I will probably sleep for days. Hopefully back in the human realm, far away from this nightmare.
Tristan carries most of my weight with one arm, yet he’s so solid I don’t worry about him dropping me. The light inside seeps in through the slit at the front of my hood, and even that’s too much after the weeks in darkness. I want to hide away and for no one to see me. Even my reflection.
“Prince Tristan! Welcome again,” a cheerful female voice says as pleasant scents of food reach me. Am I really hungry?. Maybe after the strange fish gut slop I’ve been fed, my body is desperate for something tasty and nourishing?
Tristan doesn’t wait for her to continue. “I need your best room, one with a bath tub, and warm, gentle soup. No meat in it, please.”
I shouldn’t care that he remembered my preference, but it still warms me a little to be seen as a person who is allowed to want things.
“Um, yes, of course, but we are pretty booked up—”
“I don’t care,” Tristan says impatiently. “It’s an emergency. Pay them off, and I’ll handle it.”
“We can’t just—”
“Look at my arm, Lutie.” There’s some movement and I’m guessing he’s showing her his injury. “Fetch the medic as well.”
She gasps. “Oh, Tristan… Yes, apologies, come upstairs please.”
Tristan? How well does she know him exactly?
Jealousy sears through the haze of fatigue, because for as long as I’m here, he should be giving me all his attention. After all, he promised to protect me. But I don’t get to dwell on it, because he’s carrying me up the same stairs I remember. The steps have such a pretty pattern created out of wood in different shades.And then, Tristan’s footsteps are muted by a carpet, and I groan when he sets me down onto a mattress covered with a woolen blanket.
Soft.
It’s so soft I barely remember anything feeling this luxurious.
I have to fight tears again when I remember Gloombane telling me that my shadow isn’t even worth the filthy rags he made me sleep on.
Tristan speaks to the woman in a hushed voice, but then the door shuts behind her.
He kneels by the bed and pushes back the hood a little so I can see him. The light here is a muted green that doesn’t soothe my senses, because it reminds me of the dungeon and the room adjacent to it. But at least it doesn’t assault my eyes with brightness.
“She will be discreet,” he assures me, staring into my eyes as if he’s trying to read the depths of my mind. “A medic will come and assess you very soon.”
Tristan did bandage my arm and gave me some soothing potion when we first got to his kelpie, but there’s so much wrong with me, I don’t know where to start.
My body feels so broken even simple movement is draining and seems beyond my reach.
I’m so cold.
Tristan blinks, clearly noticing the tremors shaking my body and hurriedly fetches another blanket, which he drapes on top of me.
He’s so handsome. So strong. I might hate him for everything he’s done to put me in this exact position, but I still struggle thinking that he’s seen the way I look now.
I’m so ashamed.
I don’t want to latch onto him though. Hope and the belief that true love exists is what got me here. For all I know, he used theopportunity of Gloombane’s death to further whatever his real agenda is. I’ll never be stupid enough to trust again.
