Page 32 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
My hand goes to my chest, feeling my heart pound against my rib cage. I watch as he slowly moves to close the distance between us, stopping a few steps in front of me.
“Hello.” His voice quietly caresses my skin and makes the magic inside me perk up with interest for the first time in a while. Or maybe that’s my nerves.
“Were you sleeping?” I ask him, practically gasping while I try to tame the thumping in my chest. He chuckles and shakes his head, his hand running through his hair. Even with the dim lighting of the tower, I can’t help but stare at him. My heart never actually calms, but it beats excitedly for a different reason now.
“Just tired,” he answers with a grin. “I do have another gift for you though.” He holds out his hand, something wrapped in light brown parchment paper resting on his palm. The scent of it is delicious, but I’m uncertain what exactly it is I am smelling. There’s an underlying sweetness that I do recognize; it reminds me of apples.
“From Tienne and Erica?” I ask as I take it from him, the bundle still warm.
“Yes. I’ve apparently become something of an errand boy to them,” he says flatly, though the humor that I swear I see in his eyes relays that he doesn’t actually mind. He studies me, his gaze roaming my face for a moment. I want to ask what he’s searching for—what he sees when he looks at me. Instead, I look down at the ground and notice his boots. They are the same boots Alexi had—the sameallthe guards have. I pry my eyes away from them, emotions thickening in my throat. “Did you like the sun I drew?”
I have to tilt my head back to look into his dark eyes. His hair is styled the same as before, the inky wavy strands rumpled on top with a few of them tumbling over his forehead. A moment passes before I remember he’s asked me something. “What?”
His grin widens, and those stupid butterflies come to life again in my stomach. “Did you like the sun? In my note.” he repeats, arching a brow. His arms fold over his chest, his dark silhouette outlined with the flame of the torch behind him.
“Was that your first time drawing anything?” I respond, surprised by my own audacity.
His eyes sparkle as he laughs, the sound catching me off guard. His laugh is rich and deep—like his voice—and though it is strange to admit, the sound is like a balm that soothes something deep inside me. “You wound me,” he mocks, placing a hand on his chest. “I tried my best.”
I snort in response, still holding the bundle in my hand as I inspect it. “If you had not told me it was a sun, I don’t think I would have known,” I joke as I unwrap it and see there are two small baked items lying in the middle of the parchment paper. They are round and light brown in color, and the smell of them is even more divine now that they are out in the open. “What are—” I begin to ask but then hesitate. Embarrassment burns under my skin at him finding out that I don’t know what these are. My eyes flick back to his and, instead of seeing mocking cruelty or even pity like I expect, his face is soft and open.
“They are apple cinnamon muffins,” he explains, clasping his hands behind him. My eyes draw down to his broad chest, his muscles flexing with the movement, and I notice he isn’t wearing any armor again.
Nodding, I take one of the muffins off of the paper and extend the other out to him. “Do you want one?” I offer, barely above a whisper.
He regards me, head tilting to the side. I wonder then if it’s stupid to have done so. Deep and uncompromising sadness creeps into me—a knowing sort of beast that tells me I will never fit in with others, so what’s the point in even trying to escape? Dreaming of an existence beyond these stone walls is easy, but as I’ve often been reminded during my life, reality is all too eager to steal away those fantasies. To shred them apart piece by piece until all that remains is the staggering truth that I could never actually belong anywhere.
My hand begins to withdraw when the guard steps a bit closer.
“I’d love one.” He moves to carefully pluck the other muffin from my hand. “Thank you, My Lady.” I shift on my feet, something the guard notices before bringing his eyes back up to mine. “I should probably get going,” he says, jerking his head towards the stairs. There is an odd feeling of disappointment that flutters through me.
Alone. Alone. Alone.
My eyes start to water, overwhelming feelings of isolation and anguish threaten to burst free from me like a tainted butterfly emerging from its cocoon. I’m transformed by this despair in ways I never thought possible, in ways I can’t properly fathom. I nod my head and step back, ready to close the door. This is insanity. I don’t even know this guard, and yet some small part of me wants to. Maybe to feel less alone or less insane, I’m not sure.
I miss Alexi so much.
As if he somehow sees the emotional turmoil raging inside of me, the guard clears his throat and draws my attention to him. “Have you ever played noughts and crosses?” he asks quickly. I shake my head and take a deep breath, pushing down those feelings inside of me along with the curiosity that starts to bubble up at his question, until I am— “Would you like to play? I can bring the game tomorrow night and teach you.”
My spiraling thoughts freeze at his offer, like a string suddenly pulled taut. I stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s being disingenuous. “Why would you do that?” I ask cautiously.
A line forms between his brows as he smirks. “Why wouldn’t I do that?” he counters while his dark eyes hold mine.
“Because you are… You’re a guard,” I argue hesitantly, leaning a shoulder lightly on the door.
“And guards can’t play games?”
“Well, of course they can. But what about your post? You aren’t supposed to leave,” I say.
“I will have already fulfilled my duties for the day,” he replies. My eyes narrow at that, a question burning on the tip of my tongue. “One game. If you absolutely despise it—or me—then I won’t return,” he proposes coolly, shrugging one shoulder up.
It’s dangerous, reckless,stupideven. But before I can let myself second-guess my response, I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear with my free hand.
“Great!” he grins, the smile appearing effortlessly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He steps back, popping the entire small muffin into his mouth as he does so, then spins on his heel and walks down the stairs, a noticeable bounce to his step. I listen as his steps echo down the length of the tower before I step back into the living area and shut the door.
Walking over to the couch, I take a seat and bring the muffin to my mouth for a small bite. Warm and spicy flavors burst onto my tongue—unlike anything I have ever tasted before. It’s sweet without being overly so, the texture dense yet fluffy. I hear Bella pad down the stairs, her nose sniffing the air when she reaches the bottom. Holding out a little bite for her in my palm, she carefully licks it up—tail wagging as she does.
I replay thestrangeinteraction with the guard in my head. I still don’t understand why he wants to spend any amount of time with me in any capacity. Surely he must have other things to do that are more interesting. Or maybe he is just curious. He had said that I wasn’t what he expected, so perhaps he just wants to figure out what I am. I’m probably just an oddity to him, athingthat doesn’t quite belong.
