Page 20 of Somber Prince

“Nice to meet you, Sigid.” I adjusted the blanket around my torso.

The locals obviously didn’t mind running around topless, men and women alike. But I didn’t even have their mesh jewelry to cover my chest with.

Sigid seemed nice, putting me at ease, so I asked, “Can I get something to wear, since my shirt was ruined?”

“I will see to it, Sweet One.”

That weird form of address scraped against my nerves.

“Can you call me Dawn, please?”

He inclined his head respectfully. “As you wish, Joy Vessel Dawn.”

“No.” I winced. “Just Dawn, please. When you say ‘vessel,’ it makes me think of a jug.”

“Not a jug, but a chalice. You are a magnificent vessel filled with the purest of joy.”

“Except that I’m a person, not a dish. And I don’t feel all that joyful, to be honest.”

“It is my duty to provide you with anything you need to change that,” he said with another bow.

Anything.

Except for freedom, my friends, or any food. What did it leave me with?

“How long did I sleep? What time is it now?” I ran a hand through my matted hair. It used to be in a bun when they snatched me from my house. But now, it must be resembling a bird’s nest, built by a very messy bird unable to focus on the task.

“It’s just about six hours past midnight,” Sigid replied. “His Highness chose to have dinner at seven in the morning. I’ll come back for you then.” He turned to leave.

Dinner in the morning? It didn’t make sense.

Clutching the blanket around me, I scrambled off the bed after him.

“Wait!”

With his hand on the door handle, Sigid gave me a questioning glance.

“Do you wish to change the dinner time?” he asked. “Move it sooner, maybe?”

“No. I’m good.” Despite my hunger, I wasn’t in a hurry to see the prince. “Seven o’clock is fine. But…”

I dropped my gaze to my feet. My once white socks were now dingy gray and filled with sand. I had been wearing them and the same pair of pants for a while now. The black sand of the desert seemed to infiltrate every fiber of my clothes and every crevice of my body.

“Can I have a bath? Or do you want me to attend the royal dinner smelling the way I do?”

Sigid leaned toward and sniffed tentatively, as if trying to determine whether the package of meat he’d kept in his fridge for a while was still any good. Obviously, it wasn’t, as he wrinkled his nose in repulsion.

“You’re right. The smell is offensive.”

“Thanks for noticing,” I retorted, not sparing on sarcasm. “You’re so charming with your compliments.”

His expression turned to confusion. “I paid you no compliment. You do stink.”

Clearly, sarcasm was not his language, just as a sense of humor wasn’t one of his qualities.

“Alright,” I brushed it off. “So, can I have a bath?”

“You absolutely should.” He nodded. “Follow me.”

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