“No, you need rest before the trip to Faris. The sun is going down in a couple of hours.” Gabriel shook his head. “I can do it myself.” His hand was still in the air, waiting for the flint.
Roxanne bit her lower lip as her eyes filled with concern when they lingered to me. If only I knew what to do... With Barren gone, I worried not for our safety in this castle, though the risk was still there: despite Tamira’s and Arthur’s reasonable minds.
“We can assign a few warriors to your aid. How many do you need?” Tamira turned to Gabriel.
Gabriel looked at me before replying. “The forge of Royal steel is highly secretive. I can do it myself.”
“It’s fine, Gabriel,” I protested. “Take as much help as you need, there is no reason to keep this a secret. Humans are privy to this information, especially in times like these.”
Gabriel nodded. “Ten, if possible,” he told Tamira.
“Consider it done.” She nodded at her second. “Louis, take Gabriel to the forge and find the best smiths among our army for his aid.”
Louis—a middle-aged man with long, light-brown hair that reached his waist—nodded, walking out of the hall. Roxanne threw the flint at Gabriel, who effortlessly caught it, hiding it into his pocket.
“Would you like someone to accompany you to a room in the meantime, Your Highness?” Tamira faced me, her hand inclined.
“It’s Cordelia,” I said as Tamira frowned at my desire to ignore my foolish title—something she no doubt considered insubordination. “And no, I know my way around the castle, thank you.” I gave her a swift nod, gesturing for Roxanne to follow after, as I led us to the only room in this castle I couldbare: to the room that used to be my sanctuary—most of the time, at least.
Chapter 39. Old Ghosts.
The strong smell of alcohol erupted in the room I used to call mine. The same dark-blue curtains revealed the sun that had burned my flesh; the same dark blue bedding as the last time I’d stayed here.
I averted my gaze from the bedframe as painful memories invaded my weak mind. Timothy’s shadow lingered in every corner of the room, yet there was no other room I would rather be in—this had been my only salvation, as he had rarely entered with the guards by my doors. Sometimes he managed to slip in anyway.
Other rooms hadn’t granted me such protection, as Timothy would come up with foolish excuses to disallow my guards access to the rest of the castle. Had I protested—more pain would have fallen onto my shoulders... I’d quickly learned to endure it.
Roxanne locked the door behind her, rushing towards the window to draw the curtains. “I still think one of us should have stayed with Gabriel, Moon knows what can happen, and he is our only chance at Royal steel.” She threw her cloak on the chair in the corner of the room, revealing her scabbard filled with blades.
“Tamira assigned help and protection to him, and he is right—” I took the woolen blanket out of the drawer when nausea made its way through my stomach: the drawer was filled with my old dresses, cut to shreds. I forced air into my lungs before laying the blanket on the settee by the now covered window.
“And what if one of hishelpersdoes something to him?” Roxanne frowned when I lay on the settee.
“We have to learn to trust each other, otherwise death will take us one by one.” My eyes closed from fatigue, revealing the fire that took Simon. “He will be fine.” I shook my head to get rid of the horrid memory. “At the end of the night, he is human, and most of the guards here fought alongside him in the Crimson War.”
Silence followed as Roxanne’s steps neared to where I lay. “If you say so.” She stood by the settee, willing my gaze to meet hers. “I won’t bite,” she rolled her eyes, pointing at the bedframe. “This bed is big enough for the both of us.”
“I prefer to sleep here.” I swallowed the nausea that rose deep within me as the memories of what had happened on that bed flooded my mind. I turned away, facing the wall.
“It doesn't look comfortable,” Roxanne argued. When I didn’t reply the room fell into silence: the silence that brought Simon’s screams, the silence that brought Francis’ last words.
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed. “Please! Please!” I cried.
His hands wrapped around my hair, forcing me atop the bed.
