“Oh, no. I mean, in case I’m no longer your servant. I will let them know about your request, to make sure someone comes, at dawn.”
“You’re asking them not to serve me anymore?”
He took another step. I countered it.
“No, we have no say in who we serve,” I replied quietly.
“Then what’s going to change by tomorrow?” he pressed.
I hesitated at first, but then I spoke. “Mr. Mounir—he should be back today. I’m sure he’ll change our duties.”
“Mr. Mounir? I assume he is the husband of…what was it that you called her? The ever-so-lovely seamstress?”
Another step forward. Another step back.
“Her brother,” I corrected. “There are no husbands or wives here, Lord, only companions.”
“Ah, yes, I forgot the Rameli do not marry. And let me guess, this brother of hers, is he just as lovely?”
I took another step back, finally glimpsing the exit.
“Some say the Mounirs are equally as lovely, but I think Mr. Mounir is this much lovelier,” I replied, holding my index finger and my thumb close together without them touching. He snorted at the gesture.
I reached for the door handle.
“Wait. Before you leave.” My eyes squeezed shut. I swore that he was going to say something annoying about the iced glass of water and the silver coin he always seemed to have ready on display whenever I entered his room. “How do you snuff out this thing? I can’t seem to be able to put the fire out.”
My eyes snapped open and I whirled around.
“Do nottouch that!” I blurted out the words so assertively, I managed to stop him from grabbing the silver-encrusted pocket.
He raised both hands in surrender. “All right, all right.”
“Thatmust remain on at all times.” My tone was firm, gaze settled on the flame.
“May I at least ask why I cannot sleep in the dark?”
I looked at him, straight into his eyes. I even dared taking a small step towards him. And despite knowing that he wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t care, I still voiced, “That flame burns for the people of Ilma, for the pain that they suffered. I’m afraid it doesn’t take into account your sleeping preferences. But you could always request to move to a different room.”
Please say yes.
The air went still, and I swore I glimpsed his eyes softening. The unexpected gesture made the rest of his features to appear kind, almost. I had thought him incapable of anything other than sharp stares. It must have been like Ralfe and Tomas said, about the Fae, their striking features honed as part of a weapon, a mousetrap.
“Oh, no, there is no need.” Even his low voice tenderised, and I must admit, it caught me off guard.
I watched him stare deeply into the flame, and for a little less than a second, I might have glimpsed melancholy on his face. For some reason, it made me queasy.
“At what time would you like your lunch and dinner to be served, Lord Hailin?”
“Good night, Cordelia.”
I wished him what I assumed—hoped, even—was a final good night.
I made to leave, but as I turned on my heel, a knock sounded at the door and Lord Aegir invited in whoever was behind it. When the door opened, I regretted last week’s wish—I decided that I preferred Mounir to never return. My gut tensed at the sight of him. The keys at his paunch clinked as he made his way in.
Mounir glanced my way and held my stare as if expecting me to say something. “My condolences, Mr. Mounir,” I said quietly.
“Delia, Delia, Delia. I cannot decide if you are incapable of learning, or if you were simply born rude and arrogant and can never unlearn it. How dare you speak before His Highness? Stay near the wall and I’ll let you know when you can speak.” I could feel the Ice Prince’s eyes darting between Mounir and me. They felt heavy, just like the tray I was made to hold while I stood there, waiting for Mounir’s orders.
