Page 7 of Regal Queen

I wasn't worth much in this world but I was loyal, and guarding her location was so ingrained in me, I would die before I gave her up.

Ivan stood from the mattress on the floor and came towards me, his lips curled down in a frown. Here," he grunted, his clear blue eyes betraying his disapproval as he waved his hand at my feet. "Put them up. I'll take care of them."

I didn't have the energy to disobey him.

I placed them on the wooden crate, still keeping the melting ice on the cut on my face, and Ivan grabbed the ointment he'd managed to smuggle in through the guards and kneeled before me.

I winced as the ointment burned through my cuts but Ivan only pressed his lips in a firm line, tenderly rubbing it in. "You should give them what they want."

He had a deep Russian accent and sometimes I struggled to understand him, but this time, his voice was clear and filled with judgment.

I didn't answer him; we'd had this conversation so many times it was becoming redundant.

Instead, I closed my eyes, biting down on my wince as he spread the ointment over the pads of my feet. After a few minutes, he finished, and then his hand went to my ankle and he squeezed it.

"Rose."

I opened my eyes to look at him. There was something in his eyes, something different. A fire I hadn't seen before.

"You are good person." His accent was heavy on the word ‘good.’

I shook my head. "No, not really.”

"Yes." His voice was a growl, his expression stern. His long, white hair and bushy beard made him look even more wild. “Good person."

I could only stare up at him; I didn't know what else to say. I suddenly wondered things about him I'd never allowed myself to wonder before. A knot formed in my throat. "What about you, Ivan? Are you a good person?”

"I am…” He tilted his head, thinking and waving his hand. “So-so. But not like you."

I shook my head, putting my feet on the floor to place my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “You take care of me. We all do what we can, and nothing more."

He kept my gaze and, for the first time since I'd been here, a glimmer of hope shimmered in his eyes. Then he nodded, pulling back, and my hand fell to my side. "Yes, you're right. We do what we can." When I didn’t answer, he stood, wiping his hand on his dirty pants then screwed the top back on the ointment. “Keep your feet off the floor, it will only make things worse."

I put them back on the crate and he turned, opening the fridge to look at the meager food inside. After a second, he pulled out a few pieces of bread and some baloney. He began to make two sandwiches, not looking at me but continued speaking. "Rose, there is something I must tell you."

My eyes narrowed in on him and suddenly my heart picked up. All this… weird behavior was leading to something. "What?"

“There is something I noticed," he turned, crossing the room back to me. He handed a sandwich to me, then scooted the crate closer, sitting down and biting into his sandwich, not speaking for a moment, and I realized that he was trying to keep up a facade.

There were video cameras in our room. I'd destroyed them several times but they kept replacing them, no matter how many times I smashed Ivan’s big boot against them, so eventually I'd given up.

I leaned backwards, my ears prickled but pretending I was only interested in my sandwich.

After a moment, he spoke again, mumbling quietly into his sandwich. If I hadn't been listening out for it, I would've missed his words.

"Every night, there is a flicker in the lights. At the same time, every time.” He frowned. “I think is the same time.” His chest hitched as his eyes locked on me. “I think this is a sign."

I drew my eyebrows together in confusion, whispering. “That’s just how they are.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been here much longer than you, it never happens like that. Two times, each time.” His face was serious, his eyes betraying his solemnness. “Two.”

I nodded, then looked away, casually eating my sandwich even though my heart was racing. After I’d been here for two weeks, I’d given up thoughts of rescue. I didn’t even know if Bourbon or Coulter were still alive. It was too hard to wake up each morning with the crushing sensation that I was still in Dimitri’s estate. I had to push all those thoughts away in order to survive.

And even though I still dreamed of them at night, their soft caresses, whispered words, the way they shared me between them, I refused to think of them in the day.

I had to push down my rushing thoughts even now, with the mere mention of flickering lights. Could it be them?

I didn't answer him, or ask any more questions. My whole body ached and I needed a long fucking nap.

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