AELIA REVA
"GOOD MORNING, MY LADY!"
"AHHHHHH!"
The greeting bursts into the hall like it has no idea what silence is. The voice is young, bright, carrying a cheer so sharp it almost stings.
After my initial shock I look down and find....him.
The boy.
The same face that has haunted my dreams, pale and precise, framed by hair too neat for someone his age. The boy I met on the train and possibly the one that attacked me at the lake and got me here.
My breath pulls tight in my chest. The stone floor feels too solid beneath me.
What the hell–how–why?
The questions scatter and crash into each other before they can take shape. My pulse beats against my ribs like it wants to escape before I do.
"Don't be scared silly!," he says quickly, head tilting, smile fixed in place like he's used to people flinching. "I'm not going to hurt you." A pause, and then, with a little too much brightness, "Not unless the Lord says so!"
My throat goes dry. "The Lord," I echo, the word tasting strange. "You mean the one who had me dragged here?"
His smile widens like I've just guessed the answer to a riddle. "Of course!"
Before I can step back, his hand slips into mine, light but certain, and he pulls me toward the hallway. I jerk instinctively, but he doesn't loosen his hold.
The hall stretches ahead in clean, unbroken lines of stone, lit only by narrow strips of light along the ceiling. I match his steps because I don't have much choice, my free hand brushing against the wall as if I can anchor myself in its coldness.
He chatters as we walk, his voice carrying the careless ease of someone telling a bedtime story. "The Lord told me to go find you. That day at the train? That was me." He glances up at me as though expecting praise. "I watched you just like he said. Followed you and we even talked! He said you'd be interesting, and you were!"
I keep my eyes ahead, but my jaw tightens.
"Then," he goes on, his tone lifting like he's arriving at the best part, "he sent me to bring you to him. At the lake. That was fun! You couldn't tell probably, I was in my other form. Only the lord can control it though."
"You didn't look happy to see me then," he continues, as if we're discussing the weather. "But I still caught you. I'm good at that."
Something about the way he says it makes my skin prickle.
My fingers tense against his.
His smile softens, just slightly. "I didn't feel nice about it. But what the Lord says… it has to be done." The way he says it isn't apologetic. It's not even regret. It's just a truth he's learned to live with... one he assumes I'll learn too.
We turn a corner, and the air grows cooler. Somewhere ahead, the faint clink of silver on porcelain breaks the quiet, and I realize we're heading toward the dining room.
The boy swings our joined hands once before letting go. "You'll see," he says, glancing up at me with that same unwavering cheer. "It's easier if you don't fight it."
The boy pushes open a set of towering double doors, and the scent hits me first, warm bread, roasted meat, spices curling through the air like they've been waiting just for me.
The dining hall swallows us whole.
The table runs almost the entire length of the room, polished so smooth the light from the chandeliers slips across it like water. Platters are arranged in neat design, golden roasted fowl, bowls of deep-red berries, glistening vegetables, bread still steaming, and sauces in crystal dishes that catch the light in jeweled colors.
Holy moly dolly.
For a second, my feet forget how to move. My eyes trail along the endless spread, each dish more impossible than the last. My stomach twists in quiet betrayal. Traitor.
But my drooling session is interrupted when my eyes move to him.
At the far end of the table, seated in the high-backed chair at its head, he watches me. "The Lord"
One arm rests easily against the armrest, the other curled loosely around the handle of a cup. His gaze drifts from my head to my feet, slow and unbroken, carrying the quiet certainty of ownership like he's taking measure of something he already considers his.
"Lady Aelia," he says, his voice carrying without effort across the space. "Join me."
He motions to the seat beside him.
I stay where I am for a beat too long, letting the quiet stretch between us. Then I walk forward....but instead of taking the place he's indicated, I pull out the chair at the far opposite end and lower myself into it without a word.
It's faint, but I catch it, the subtle tightening in his jaw. The only sign that the choice landed exactly where I meant it to.
His gaze holds mine for a second longer, unreadable, then shifts to the boy. "Delroy. Leave us."
The boy's shoulders sink, the brightness dimming just enough to make it real. He glances at me, something almost like disappointment flickering there, before bowing his head. "Yes, my Lord."
His footsteps fade, the doors closing behind him.
The Lord leans back slightly in his chair, setting the goblet down. "Eat."
I glance at the table between us. The food might as well be glowing, the scent stronger now, warm and rich. My fingers twitch against the edge of my plate, but I keep them there, unmoving, eyes lifting back to his.
He studies me for a long moment, then the corner of his mouth curves...not a smile, not really. "It isn't poisoned."
The way he says it makes it sound less like reassurance and more like an inside joke I'm not in on.
I tilt my head. "What if it is, and you're only saying that so I'll eat it?"
His smirk deepens, though his eyes don't change. "If I wanted you dead, Aelia…" His voice lowers just enough to thread through the quiet. "…I wouldn't need poison."
The air between us thickens, his words hanging there, steady and cold.
My hand hovers over the nearest platter before I finally reach for a piece of bread, tearing it in half. I take a slow bite.
His gaze follows every movement.
❦︎ To Be Continued ❦︎