The dream would end, and I’d awake in my bed, shaken by the thoughts that followed. The shame burned upon my face to the cruel reality.
I was my own downfall.
Maybe in retribution, I withered away in the hovel of the room. Trapped with his secrets under stone rubble.
Day four, Silas barreled into my room, the door hanging off the hinges. Under the cocoon of the blanket, he stood over my bed, clothing skewed with half of his blouse tucked into his trouser, hair tickling the bottom of his belt. He frowned, an expression I had rarely seen on the man, taking a hold of the cocoon and hoisting me over his shoulder.
“Hey, put me down.” I kicked, flailed, even taking banged my fist against his back. He did not relent and walked in silence, bounding down hallways and stairs. “Silas, put me down. Now.”
“No, Little Dove. I will not.” The hand that wrapped around my leg tightened. “You are acting like a child.”
“A child!” I thrashed. “If anyone is being a child, it is you. What kind of person barges into another’s room and kidnaps them? I am hardly dressed as—”
He slammed me down into the hard chair, the silverware skittering from their proper placement.
I pulled up the blanket tight against my bare shoulders, afraid he could see the camise through the fabric and maybe more.
I shivered, keeping my gaze low and trained on the plate in front of me. Dinner was roast lamb, charred meat served on top of a bed of sweet potato mash. A trail of dark spice liquid seeped into the carrot orange mash, turning it brown, and my mouth watered at the scent. Breakfast trays were always delivered for the last couple of days but never the dinner trays.
Silas strolled to his seat, fingers grazing the white tablecloth. Once seated, he continued to tap away at the surface, filling the space in time to the beat of the clock.
Tik. Thump. Tok. Thump. Tik. Thump. Tok—
“Have I done something to offend you, Little Dove? You think saving you a few times would guarantee a small smile from you or at least an irksome comment,” he said, fingers coming to a standstill. “Perhaps you dislike my company?”
“Company? You had me almost killed two times in one day.” I scoffed. “I am just doing what is simple and staying out of your way so I don’t end up like one of your ghosts.”
“If I remember correctly, I did save you both times.”
“If you would have told me these dangers, I would not need to be saved.”
“I warned you about the west wing. It was not my fault that you decided to break that rule. As for my specter guest, I do apologize if they harmed you.”
I picked up the fork and stabbed the meat. “Harmed me? You seriously think that is all that happened. Silas, whatever psychosis is, this castle tried to kill me. Multiple times. And they are all under your direction. You keep proving my point correct.”
“And what is that, Little Dove? Is there a so-called point that you are making?”
“A beast in human clothes,” I said before calmly taking a bite of the lamb, juices exploding to the delicious fireworks and filling my aching belly.
“You say that, and yet you cannot help but find me attractive.”
I coughed as a chunk of lamb tickled my throat. “That is awfully presumptuous of you to think that I think of you in high regard.”
“But you are not denying it.”
“Denying it. What would there be to deny? The awful truth is I am stuck with you.” I cut at the meat, slicing it apart in two, like how the priest had died that day not so long ago. Drained and devoid of life, only to be consumed by another to sustain their own existence. “Or I was tricked into thinking that you actually cared if I lived or died.”
Silas leaped from his spot, taking a hold of my chair and dragging me up from the table against the wall. Ragged breaths hovered over my neck. “You think I don’t care? I could rip your pretty little throat out without hesitation, but I haven’t.”
“You keep saying that,” I growled. “Yet all I see is a monster before me.”
I pulled against his blouse, hot breath kissing my neck and tongue tracing the thin vein along my skin.
I flinched, shutting my eyes tightly, hands gripping the wrapped blanket to keep my dignity. I trembled against him and didn’t dare to look up. I gasped, body flushed with warm fingers trailing the thin blanket to my neck.
Silas tilted my chin, eyelids half lidded as he studied me under thick lashes. A hand twirled my dark locks between his fingers as he sighed softly, “I hoped by now you would have seen something different. Itappears that I was wrong.” He shoved his hand into his pocket and returned to his seat. “Please, eat.”
Silas never asked to guess his name that evening.
