By the time I get back to my room, it’s late. I see the bag I packed sitting at the foot of the bed. I feel like I’m not ready to leave. Something is holding me back, though I can’t say what. I want to see my father, and I want to see Alana. I want to go back to my life. Not back to the brothel, and not back to working for other people, though. Gods, no! This isn’t the first time I’ve been a servant, catering to someone else’s needs and following orders.
Before the brothel, I used to work for one of the wealthy families in the city. I was only eighteen, and I worked there for a year, until it became impossible to endure the patriarch’s advances.
At first, it wasn’t so bad. The man, who was in his fifties, would just grope me here and there, or make a salacious comment. I would behave like nothing happened. When payday came, I realized I was being paid a little bit more than my agreed-upon salary. I understood that if I allowed the man to touch me, to rub my thigh or grab me by the waist, I would receive a bonus.
His gestures were invasive, but they weren’t too horrible, so I allowed it for a while, until he cornered me one day and tried to kiss me. I pushed him away and slapped him. I was instantly fired. He retaliated by talking to all the other families in the city, telling them I was no good. It was impossible to find work again. That was why, when Alana suggested I came to work at the brothel as a cleaning girl, I couldn’t refuse. It was the only thing I did for a while – just cleaning – until my father got into a skirmish and broke his arm. My meager salary wasn’t going to pay for the medical treatment, and that was when I first started taking clients.
I look at my bed and decide I can’t sleep. Not yet. It’s better to leave in the morning, anyway.
There’s one thing I haven’t done since I arrived here, though I’ve thought about it every day.
I exit my room and walk past Altair’s chambers, then take the stairs down to the ground floor, to a wing of the palace that isn’t frequented anymore. These corridors are empty, and the doors that line the walls are old. I know the rooms behind them are small and cold. This is where I grew up.
I stop in front of one of the doors. Before my hand reaches the doorknob, I hear a sob coming from the other side.
I freeze. These rooms aren’t used anymore. The servants live in a building that was built for them on the property. These are the old servants’ rooms. I know them by heart. The room I’m standing in front of is where my family lived. I wanted to see it before I left the palace, but there’s no mistaking what I’m hearing.
Someone behind the door is crying.
I press my ear to the door and listen. I can swear the person crying is a man. A chill runs through me. Because I recognize his voice.
It’s Altair.
I take a few steps back and stare at the door in shock. Then I rush down the corridor on light feet, trying to make as little noise as possible. I slip out a back door and into the yard, and I move around the building until I reach the small window through which I can see my old room. I look through the window, and my breath catches in my throat.
Altair is curled up on the stone floor, crying. His shirt is off, and his back is to me. I see deep, bloody gashes covering his skin. I can tell they’re healing, which means they’re fresh. My mind struggles to make sense of what I’m witnessing.
I cover my mouth with my hand and just stand there, staring at him for several long minutes.
Altair, the Lord of House Aurellion, is curled up on the floor of my family’s old servant room. Sobbing. His back is covered in bloody scars that he obviously inflicted on himself.
Something twists painfully in my chest. This is the man who treated me horribly for an entire month, yet I can’t help but feel something for him now, something I don’t want to name. His pain makes me ache in a way I don’t understand.
I should hate him. I do hate him. Don’t I?
After what feels like forever, I steel myself and make a decision. I return to my room and unpack my bag, putting my clothes back in the closet one by one.
I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I know one thing for certain. I can’t leave now.
Chapter Ten
Altair
I’m exhausted. My entire body aches, and I barely make it out of my chambers this morning. I consider skipping breakfast altogether, but the servants are used to setting everything up for me at this hour, and I don’t want to disappoint them or disrupt their carefully maintained routine. So, I drag myself downstairs, forcing one foot in front of the other.
When I arrive in the dining room, I stop dead in the doorway.
The table is set for two people. Tressa is already sitting down, waiting for me.
I can’t believe my eyes. I thought she’d leave without even saying goodbye, that she’d pack her things in the night and disappear before dawn.
She looks up at me, and there’s something in her eyes that’s different from yesterday. Something has changed, though I can’t put my finger on exactly what. Her features are relaxed instead of tense, softer instead of sharp with hostility. She’s not on edge the way she usually is around me, not braced for a fight or an insult.
I brush off my confusion and straighten my back, unfurling my wings wide to project the confidence I don’t feel. I need to look unbothered, need to appear as if nothing fazes me, even though on the inside, I’m beyond ecstatic that she’s still here and hasn’t left yet.
I allow myself to wonder if it’s too much to hope that she won’t leave at all. Then I remember the spat we had in the library, and I doubt that Tressa would give me a real chance after everything I’ve done to her.
“Good morning,” she says.
