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I avert my gaze and tuck my hair behind my ear. “We should probably clean up these wounds.”
Rock gets to his feet and offers a hand to help me up. I take it and stand, looking around. The foyer is exactly as I remember it. A magnificent chandelier, although now raining dust-covered crystals, hangs like a forgotten treasure from above. Directly beneath the chandelier, lays a large star, made with inlaid tiles. It was shipped from far-off lands, and I remember how beautifully it reflected the light when the candles were lit.
We make our way to the main hall, the ball of light moving with us as if bound to an invisible tether. The main hall stretches across the width of the river, which rushes underneath. The stone is so thick, I can just barely make out the water’s soothing rhythm. Stained glass windows and mirrors adorn the walls, more chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and the floor is a checkerboard of black and white marble. Grand balls were held here. Now it’s empty—lost to time.
I was ten the last time I attended a ball here. The night of Summer Solstice. Thousands of flowers covered every surface and hung in spheres from the ceiling. Their rich, sweet scent drowned out everything, including the smell of the great feast. The classical sounds of the band soared through the air in soft melodies.
I’d worn a dress of blue gossamer. Father doted over how it matched my eyes. I was so excited to show off my dress. Back then, stupid things like pretty dresses mattered to me. But mostly, I wanted Prince Daimis to notice me that night. I don’t know why that was so important to me, but it was. Daimis was my best friend. The absence of him in my life is an open wound to this day. I haven’t seen him in twelve years and not a day has passed that I haven’t missed him. I left a piece of myself the day I fled the castle, and I doubt I’ll ever feel whole again.
We were inseparable until that summer when things started to change between us. He had suddenly stopped having time to go tadpole hunting with me, exploring through the nearby forest, or finding ways to drive the adults crazy—fun stuff. He instead started spending his time with basically anyone else besides me––even Kellan, the castle jerk, who was always pulling mean pranks, and saying awful things.
I could still see Daimis’s moss-green eyes looking at me from across the hall that night. They grew wide and I got the feeling that he was pleased to see me, making me think that everything would be okay between us until his eyes narrowed in anger and he turned away. I still don’t know why he was so mad at me. But I was determined to beat it out of him if I had to. I stormed over to him, only Kellan cut me off. He’d said Daimis didn’t have time for annoying little girls anymore, that I should play with kids my own age, and to leave him alone for good.
“What are you thinking about?” Rock asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing, this place is just haunting, I guess.”
“It didn’t use to be.” Rock seems to be in his own thoughts as he looks around.
“Have you been here before?”
He nods. “A long time ago. When I was a different person.”
“We were all different before the night of the Blood Moon.” Did I know him? There is a real possibility I could have. “What’s your real name?” I ask.
He looks at me and the corners of his mouth quirk. “What’s yours?”
I give him a smile and turn away. “You’re entitled to your secrets,” I say over my shoulder. “Come, this way.”
Feeling slowly returns to my arm, along with a stinging bite. As the toxin wears off, the pain only intensifies. I ignore it and walk down a set of stone stairs that were smoothed over by the kitchen staff years ago. Without a word, Rock follows me down. The kitchen has dust-covered copper pots and pans which hang on the walls and over the unused black stove. Cobwebs are everywhere and a large rat scurries to a dark corner at our approach, its scratching nails echoing eerily. While some women might be creeped out by the rodent, I just thinkdinner. But first, we need to clean our wounds.
I try not to imagine the last time I was here, face drenched in tears, heartbroken by rejection,weak. Emotions keep wiggling their way in, so I set to action, it’s an effective way to distract myself. I walk into the adjoining room where there’s a pump that leads to the river water. I grab a bucket from a shelf, pump water into it to rinse it out, and then fill the bucket again with clean water. I then open the drawer with the kitchen rags and pull a few out. They’re not as dusty thanks to being in the drawer, but I still shake them out before placing the extras on the counter. I dunk one of them in the water.
“Sit,” I order, motioning to a chair.
When I look at Rock, I know I’ve made a mistake. He narrows his eyes. “You just happen to know exactly where the kitchen is, the water pump, the rags?”
I glance down at the cloth in my hand, water dripping, and internally curse myself.Smooth, Sahra, real smooth.I shrug. “So?”
What does it matter if he knows I was here before? Hundreds of people were here just that one night alone. That doesn’t mean he’ll figure out who I am. When he doesn’t push further, I relax a little.
He shrugs and sits. I slide a chair over and take a seat in front of him. Once again, I pull the fabric of his tunic back. Gently as I can, I dab at the wounds, just as long ago the head cook had dabbed at my tears.
“Bad memories?” Rock asks. I feel his gaze on me but keep focused on cleaning his wounds. Am I really that easy to read?
“Some,” I admit.
He places a hand over mine, stopping my progress. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
His expression is so sincere that I allow myself a moment to drink it in before I return to my task. “Thank you. It was a long time ago.” I pull my hand away and rip a strip from one of the other cloths. I wrap it under Rock’s armpit and over his shoulder to cover the wound, tying off the ends. “Besides, I learned something valuable that day that has served me well.”
Rock picks up one of the clean cloths and dips it into the water before gently taking my arm and wiping at the scratches there. I clench my teeth against the pain but don’t utter a sound.
As he continues to clean the scratch, the burning fades.
“What was it you learned?” he asks.
I look him in the eye, and he pauses. “That I can trust no one but myself.”
