by A C Wilds
“Me too Azra. Until next time.”
Making the first left leads me right into Daniel. I slam into him and almost tumble to the ground, but he grabs my arms to steady me. “Whoa, you alright?” he asks me in light hearted voice. He is definitely the carefree one.
“Yes, I am fine. Just didn’t see you there is all,” I say, looking up into his face. I pull away and straighten my top. You can see the resemblance between him and Cass. They both have blond hair and gray eyes, but Daniel’s eyes, well they are a bit colder. His gray reminds me of cold steel, the kind they make knives out of.
“Why are you coming this way? I thought you were in the stables with my brother?” he questions me. His gaze is penetrating. He is looking for something to hang over me; I can feel his intent swinging through the air.
“I, um, yes, that is where I was coming from. Why are you asking?” I stammer back. I don’t want him to know about my meeting with Nora.
“You are coming from the wrong direction, if you were at the stables. Did you take a side tour? Maybe to see someone else?” he asks me, while picking up a lock of my hair off my shoulder. We are standing incredibly close. I can smell spring mist and waterfalls coming off of him. His eyes have a hooded glare, and I know the more I stay here, the more chance I have of being in trouble.
“I saw no one,” I say, while squaring my shoulders and taking a step back.
“Azra, you just gave yourself away. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you how to bluff?”
“What do you want from me, Danny?”
“Danny?” he asks with a laugh. “We have nicknames for one another now?”
“I don’t use real names, it’s too uptight and personal.”
“Oh, I like your style,” he says in a seductive tone, while moving back into my space.
“I don’t have a style, but I do want to go to my room. Can you please point me in the right direction?”
“Avoidance, it’s a very acceptable tactic. I have mastered the art of avoidance for centuries. I will let this slip this time, Azra, but understand that I have a tendency to get bored pretty quickly. You may want to keep entertaining me in order to stay on my good side,” he says the last with so much heat, that my eyebrows almost melt off.
I swallow down my initial retort and reply, “I’ll keep that in mind,” as I blast past him and practically run the rest of the way to my room. Fuck that was close!
Chapter 8
Meeting Logan
Azra
I open the door to my room and standing in the middle of the room are both maids. They look annoyed. One, more so than the other. The maid who came to bring my clothes stands to the left. She is a pretty blond with curls framing her face. She has pale blue eyes, and she reminds me of Charlotte La Bouff from Disney’s The Princess and the Frog. Those baby blues are just a tad too big for her round head. She is petite but stocky. She looks like she could lift a car with ease. The other maid is tall and lanky. She has mousy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. Her expression is kinder and holds more compassion than her companion. It seems like she knows what I am going through. She speaks first.
“We would like to introduce ourselves formally. I am Dorothy, and this is Megan,” she says, while pointing to the shorter of the two. “We will be your ladies for the duration of your stay. If you need anything, please feel free to ask, and we will try to accommodate you. Also, know that we are bound by duty to serve the King. We will not betray him in any way, so please don’t ask. Now, is there anything else you need? Something that would make you feel more at home? A dressmaker will be here tomorrow to measure you for some clothes, and a courier will be by sometime to give you a schedule and go over your days here at the palace.”
“This has got to be a nightmare,” I mumble to myself, as I go and sit down at the edge of the bed. I take in the two women standing in front of me and wonder if they are slaves or free. Were they subjected to this King by choice? For some reason, I don’t think Megan was. I believe there is a whole lot of hate bubbling up inside that little body of hers. It might be something I could use to my advantage.
“I would like some lunch if that’s possible. I didn’t have such a great breakfast. Also, is there a library here? I noticed there is no TV, so I figured books would be the next best thing to entertain myself with while I am here,” I say to Dorothy because clearly, she is in charge.
“We can accommodate those requests for you,” says Megan. She has so much venom in her voice. She hates me already, but why?
“Thanks,” I say.
With that, both women turn on their heels and leave the room. I am finally alone. I have no friends or allies here, and I can’t leave. Walking the grounds today was an eye-opener. There are people everywhere, including other guards. The severity of it all hits me. I have no more family, friends, Manny’s, or my cozy little shack. Everything was ripped from me all because for the first time in two years, I went out to a bar with my friend. I flop on the bed and stare at the ceiling. My mind can’t help but wander back to the nightmare that has been my existence for the past couple of years.
Two years ago, I was blissfully happy in life and in love. I could envision my future with Sean. Then he burned it all to the ground and made me run. All this anguish I have been carrying around is finally crashing down on me, and I know I need to come to terms with everything I’ve locked inside. My life in Virginia was just an echo of those happier New York days. I have been so isolated and closed off that I haven’t truly lived. I haven’t even attempted to do the one thing that I am good at — show jumping. I was starting to become a recognized name before I left. Sponsors were noticing me, and I had an excellent job. Florida’s competition was a mess, but I could have come back the next year and compete again. Who knows, maybe one day I could have made it to the Olympics, but instead I gave up. I let his betrayal strip me bare until all that remained was loneliness and mistrust. Because of that, I am here being held against my will — a prisoner of my own making because I didn’t want to deal with any of the tough emotions. I resolve myself right this instant to never let anyone dictate my life, and I won’t ever let fear rule me again. Like a gaping hole in a dam, I’m able to let it out and cry for a good hour. It’s therapeutic in a way, to finally get all this out. Before I can think on it too long, a knock sounds on the door. That must be my lunch.
“Come in!” I yell to the person outside. The door creaks open, and a boy no older than twelve walks in carrying a tray full of food. He is the same boy who was in the entrance hall yesterday. “Hello,” I say, as I try to cover the shakiness in my voice and the tears still hot on my cheeks.
“Hi. Where would you like me to put this?” he asks, all formal like he is accustomed to speaking to people of higher stature. I wonder if he is also a slave.
“You can put it on the table by the window,” I suggest, as he moves over to place it down. It smells wonderful. I can see a sandwich of some kind and a soup. There is a glass of water next to it and what looks like a piece of chocolate cake. “Thanks, this looks good.”
“You’re welcome. My name is Logan. I am your page,” states the boy.
“What is a page?” I ask. If it is anything like a plebeian, I am sending this kid back to where he came from. There is no way that I will have someone serve me. It’s bad enough that the maids won’t leave me alone.
He thinks about his answer for a minute. He has this cute look on his face with his eyebrows furrowed and his nose crinkled. He has eyes the color of the sea and black hair all messed up in the front. You can tell that he could care less about brushing it. He is a bit short and looks a lot like a certain kidnapper I know.
“A page is like an assistant, just younger. I do what you want, get your stuff, show you where to go so you don’t get lost, and even keep you company when you are lonely. But the last part I made up, so don’t tell anyone. I don’t have friends here, so I thought since you don’t either, we could help each other out.”
I instantly like th
is kid. He’s got a great personality, and he is right. I do need a friend. I’m curious to know if he is related to Greyson. It would make sense. Maybe this is the reason why he couldn’t just disappear. It makes me rethink whether he is the bad guy in all of this.
“Are you related to Greyson?” I ask.
“Yes!” Logan says, with so much reverence. “He is my big brother. He’s great. He takes care of me and is the best at playing games. He’s all I got, but I don’t mind ‘cause he’s enough.”
This makes me a little sad, but I know the feeling of having only one person to count on. I wonder how Noli is doing and if she is looking frantically for me. I miss her snark and sassy mouth. I miss our weekly movie binges and Taco Tuesdays. I miss our simple life together.
“That’s awesome. Okay, I’ve decided we can be friends, but under one condition,” I say, with a very stern look in my eyes but a smirk on my lips.
“Alright, what is it?” he says back, with the same mischievous grin.
“You have to call me either Az or RaRa, and I get to call you a nickname too. I don’t do full names, and you need a good one if you want us to be friends.”
“Well, Greyson calls me Squirt, but I don’t like that one.”
“Hmm… how about Wolvie for Wolverine. You know, since your name is Logan and all.”
“That’s so cool! You can call me Wolvie! I could be like a real-life X-Men. I miss my comics. When I was in the real world, I had so many. They don’t let us buy anything here, and the library doesn’t have any. It stinks.”
“That does stink. So, you’re from the outside world then?”
“Yup, we moved here like five years ago, but I don’t remember the reason. I was a lot younger then.”
I don’t want to make the kid feel bad, so I change the subject. He must miss all the things about being outside this palace, and me reminding him of them won’t help. I wonder where his parents are. It is odd that anyone would choose to be here, but remembering what Greyson said, maybe they didn’t have a choice.
He leaves with a smile on his face and an erratic hand wave. I can tell this kid and I are going to be fast friends. Maybe, if he trusts me enough, we could find a way out. I wouldn’t be opposed to enlisting Greyson for help. He looked desperate enough to want to leave. There are slaves here. People who have no choice or free will. People who are looked upon as animals and treated close to it. This isn’t right. How can I be a part of a world that is used to treating other beings like pieces of property? There has to be a way to get this to stop, and maybe I am in a position to find it. This is quickly becoming my problem, and I’m getting attached.
I decide that I’ve processed enough emotions for the day and longingly stare at the comfortable bed across the room. I walk over to it and jump into it, just because I feel that the King would frown upon that, and it’s a small way to give him the middle finger. It doesn’t take long before sleep overtakes me. I have a vivid dream of a better life — one where I am once again happy and free. I am fierce and fearless in the dream and seem as if I can take on anything that comes my way. Four handsome men are surrounding me. I can’t make out the exact details of their faces, but I can feel their loyalty and devotion to me. They are the soldiers in Nora’s Death Card. There is so much love and happiness. Also, my belly is swollen with new life, and for once I know true peace.
Chapter 9
A Tried Friendship
Azra
Once again, I rouse to a blinding light hitting my face. I can feel the heat on my skin and the brightness through my eyelids. I’m not a morning person. I like to rise after the world has already started. The last few days of waking up this early this is starting to take its toll. I hate everything about getting up, especially if I was comfortable in bed, and this bed is so comfortable. I can feel a difference in the air, and my senses alert me to something different in my room. Opening my eyes, I realize I am not alone.
“Good morning,” drawls Cassiel, like he is bored with me already. His eyes are a bit dreamy as if he is deep in thought about something. He is dressed in riding gear; a white polo shirt, grey breeches, and tall riding boots. His riding boots are made to fit him and look like they are made from the softest leather. Does anyone here wear any colors besides white and grey? He is holding a crop and lightly tapping it against his thigh. My cheeks flush, and an odd sensation creeps up my body. I wonder, just for a second, what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that crop. Ugh, this is not how I wanted to start my morning.
“Um, Good Morning. What are you doing in my room?” I question. I can’t help to stare at how good he looks in his outfit. His polo is just tight enough to see the definition in his chest and arms. The breeches are a smidge too tight, and from this angle I can see quite an impressive bulge. I have to stop this train of thought. He is a monster who holds people against their will and has forced others into slavery. There is no way I would break my no-relationship rule for a douchebag like him.
“I’m the prince, the heir to the Seelie throne. I don’t knock.”
“Nope,” I say, as I get out of bed. Realizing that I went to bed in a tank top and shorts, I am showing off more skin than I would have liked.
“What do you mean, nope?”
“I mean get the fuck out of my room with your pompous attitude. I am not one of your servants or slaves.” I say the last word with as much sneer as someone can muster this early in the morning. “And furthermore, you're a dick, and not even the good kind.”
An audible sigh loudly escapes his mouth, like I am the most exhausting person he has ever had the displeasure of meeting. “I can’t leave. Unlike you, who thinks she has no responsibilities, I do. I have a kingdom to protect. I was ordered to watch over you, and that’s what I am going to do. It’s up to you whether we spend the day in bed.”
I’m pretty sure my eyes look in danger of popping out of their sockets. I am slack-jawed again for the second time with this infuriating man. I need to get away from him before I throat punch this asshole.
“We are not staying in my bed. Not now — not ever!” I yell, and rush straight into the bathroom. I know I’m lying a bit to myself, because he is obviously hot and my primal urge gets excited at the mere thought, but my practical side knows I could never have sex with someone who cared so little for human life.
Trying to catch my breath, I wash up and step into my walk-in closet through the bathroom entrance. It is filled with fluffy dresses and expensive suits. I guess the tailor will be coming later to make alterations. None of it is anything I would usually wear or could afford. Scrounging through the drawers, I manage to find riding breeches and a polo, very much like the one that Cass is wearing. I see no t-shirts anywhere. There are riding boots on the shoe rack, but no paddock boots. How am I supposed to muck stalls in expensive leather? They will get destroyed. They must think I am one of those riders who doesn’t take care of the horses I ride. Of course, these high and mighty pricks have their slaves to do all of the dirty work around here.
I grew up mucking stalls and grooming horses as trade for lessons. We were too poor to purchase my own horse, so I rode the practice horses and took care of rich people’s mounts. Then, when I was old enough to get a job, I became an exercise rider for them. They were too busy to make it to the stables to work the horses, so it was up to me to fill in. The money I made went to jumping lessons and gear. For the first time since I was ten, I was able to afford my own stuff. Mother never cared what I did, so I was there almost seven days a week. It was my escape from the shitty home life I had with a mother devoid of love. It was my therapy. The only way I could process all the shit that happened to me.
I’m looking forward to going to the stables, even if I do have to go with this asshole. I miss riding, and it seems like anything I could ever want would be there. I hope I don’t run into Barty Crotch. I can’t promise I’d be civilized around that man.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I see Cass is still sitting in the chair next
to the bed. His eyes heat as they see me in my tight breeches. He follows my curvy body up and down inspecting as he goes.
“That outfit is making me want to change my mind and stay in bed,” he says with a smirk. He looks flustered, like he can’t control himself.
“You must not see a lot of girls in riding gear then because this is just a practice outfit. A bit formal, as I tend to ride in t-shirt and tights, but this is all I could find. And these boots are a bit much. Where can I get paddock boots and half chaps? I can’t muck stalls and groom horses in thousand-dollar competition boots,” I say.
“Why would you be mucking stalls or grooming horses? We have humans for that.” His voice sounds snobbish, but I have a feeling this is all he knows. He thinks this is normal. I don’t know whether to be infuriated about it or to feel sorry for him.
“If I am to ride here, I will take care of the horses as well. I don’t do handouts. I am no better than the humans who live here. I certainly won’t have someone cleaning up after me. It’s bad enough I have maids who clean in here and bring me clothes to wear. I am perfectly capable of grooming and mucking stalls.”
“I can see if the stable hands would be open to letting you help out. I don’t know how much Bartholomew is going to like it, but if that is your wish, I will see it done,” he says, like I am genuinely trying his patience.
“Great, now that it’s settled, lead the way to this very impressive barn I didn’t get to see yesterday.”
We walk out of the room, but before I get to the threshold, I turn around to look in the room and notice that the crop he had in his hand is now resting on the side table by the bed. My cheeks get red thinking about what that could mean.
We walk together down the long corridor and take a right at the big entrance way. This leads to what looks like the back of the mansion toward the kitchens. He takes me thru the massive cooking area and grabs a basket filled with food on the way out. I glance at him from the side quizzically. This seems out of character for the arrogant royal.
