“When I was sixteen and still not adopted, they put me out. Nobody wants powerless teenagers. I lived on the street for ayear. Then I heard somebody talking about working as a servant. I knew this was my chance of making something out of life, so I solicited and got hired,” she continues, not looking me into my eyes. I take her shoulders in my hands and force her into a hug.
“You are perfect just the way you are, your sweetness is your power, Annie. Where do you stay?” I question her.
“My name is Anasté, actually,” she answers, giving me a petty smile. “I usually stay at the side building. Normally, your room is my room, but now I am sharing a room with another servant.”
Oh. That sucks. How could I be so selfish to only think about my own problems in here? Guilt trembles over me and I want to give her, her room back, but she starts talking before I can offer.
“It is fine.”
“I am sorry for stealing your room, Anasté,” I tease her, bumping my shoulder softly into hers as we continue to walk. “And the others can’t know about this because you haven’t manifested a signet?” I look at her. I can’t help the bubbling anger inside of me. What can she do about the thing you are born with or without. I hate people.
“Yep, they will see me as weak. The king thinks I am a fortune teller. Also, not the most impressive signet, I know, but it is something. I know there is no punishment or difference for someone powerless, but people do have their judgement ready for you if you tell them.” She nods her head slightly, staring up in the sky. “I didn’t want to make this about me, sorry,” she whispers. She does not have to feel guilty. We are walking in this beautiful garden and everywhere I look is beauty. The sun is lowering and the sunset is starting.
“Annie, you’re my best friend,” I tell her. She looks at me in confusion. “Well, actually you’re my first friend and friends hear each other out, at least that’s what they seem to do in the books I read.” I put my finger on my chin in confusion. “Anyway.” I shrug.
Annie bursts out in laughter.
“Wait, why are you laughing?” I continue. I stare at her in confusion, waiting for an answer. She lowers herself and turns around, embracing everything that surrounds us at this moment
“You’re just so you and I love it,” she establishes. She wraps one of her arms around my shoulders and a smile covers my face. “Now tell me about that boy of yours!” She giggles out. I feel the blush rise and the tops of my ears turn red.
“He is no boy of mine.” I shrug.
“So you do know who I am talking about, don’t you? Your face seems to remember. Now sit down, watch the sunset with me and tell me why your face is red as a tomato,” she commands me, still laughing. So that’s what I do. I sit down with her while watching the sky turn into all these beautiful colors of purple and pink and I tell her everything. Well, almost everything, because I keep the surprise of achievement to myself as soon as I noticed that I made the sunset prettier and last longer than usual.
It is already past 1 a.m. as I turn around in bed and look at the clock, Braxton still being nowhere to be found. I close my eyes and think about the memories Da and I have, them being the only thing helping me calm down. One time, he taught me to ride a horse. He jumped on a big brown horse, and he had a palomino smaller horse on his side. Light and sweet like me, he described her. He helped me up and even though I couldn’t really ride we bumped around the forest for hours. After I fell asleep on the horse, Da carefully helped me off and tucked me in bed. It was the first time I called him Da and told him I loved him. The name Da stuck. Calling him dad feels strange, because I feel like his daughter, Mirae, should have called him that. And I am not her. He feels like a real father to me, though. I was eight years old atthe time and my feelings for Da never changed. I press out an exaggerated yawn and sleep drags me away.
The change of light and squeaking of hinges, make me sit straight up. My eyes change direction towards the clock.
1:30 a.m.
Strange.
I was sure I had slept for over an hour or two. My head turns to the shadow standing in the doorway.
“Could you not have been a bit more quiet when walking in? I was sleeping,”I huff out. The shadow walks closer and as I already guessed, Braxton steps out of the shadow.
“Practicing with your mind talking, huh?” he teases. I react in a groan and close my eyes as he switches the light on. I let the tingle rush through my body and change the big light into a little light flying through the air.
“Thanks,”he murmurs quietly, but loud enough for me to hear.“I like the quiet. What were you doing so late out anyway?”I shrug, looking through my squinted eyes. I follow him with my gaze as he takes off his shirt.“Didn’t know I had to explain myself where I was going? Jealous I am with someone else?”He smirks at me. I put the pillow on my head and let out a loud groan, but because of the pillow it sounds more like a moan. I take the pillow of my head and feel my heart thunder in my ears.
Oops.
“I didn’t know taking my shirt off and scolding could make someone moan that loudly. That is a first. Now be quiet or I will make you,”he teases me, throwing his shirt in my direction, but I duck on time. I know he is joking but his eyes darken as I stare at him. I wouldn’t hate it if he did. I blush but I know he can’t see. Or maybe he is reading my thoughts and knows but I speak the words to make sure he does.
“Try me,”I purr, feeling completely out of breath.
“I will, but not tonight. You need to get some sleep.”
He annoys the fuck out of me right now. He lies down next to me, and I stare at him. He breaks our eye contact and turns around. Instead of slapping a pillow on his head, I decide to stay calm and collected.
“Goodnight, Brax. Hope you have some fluffy dreams about unicorns and rainbows.”I can’t help myself and smile. He lets out a heavy sigh.
“Goodnight, Eliane.”
Wait what? I sit up straight in the bed.
“How do you mean Eliane? You never call me that. No calling me Honey anymore, huh?”
