Chapter 30: Chapter 29

Dalliah

“Why?” Is all he can say, scrunching his brows in confusion.

It sounds so simple for him to ask but that’s the one question I cannot answer. Lucky for me there are plenty of other reasons I can use to hide the larger one. It’s not like being his personal maid has been a walk in the park, has it?

“I don’t want to work in service all my life, I don’t want to be mocked for my appearance and I don’t want to stay in Apheya.” My voice hardens, and I think even if I wasn’t who I am, these reasons would be enough to lead me on the same path.

That’s comforting somehow. Maybe this means he’ll believe me and after he’s served whatever the punishment is, I’ll be free to go. I just need to survive this next hurdle, whatever it’ll be.

He doesn’t reply straight away. The cogs in his mind are turning like the clocks Marjorie taught me how to wind. It doesn’t help the nerves building inside of me at the anticipation but I’d like to think I hide it well.

“You don’t want to be a servant?”

I shake my head, not quite brave enough anymore to answer him when he’s being so direct. The tone is still soft but there’s no mistaking the edge that has suddenly appeared.

“What’s so wrong with Apheya? Where were you going?”

I can’t hide the sharp intake of breath that I make, and I’m so thankful that the cover story we made involves the fake Dalliah also being an orphan as well, or this would be so much harder. “It reminds me of my family.”

“Are they dead?”

“Yes.” Because of you.

Ruairi nods, taking it all in and the bitter taste of rust hits my tongue, telling me that I’ve bitten my lip so hard that I must have drawn blood.

“Where were you going?”

“I don’t know, across the sea.”

Whether that remains to be a fact is yet to be decided. My recent dice with death has given me a healthy dose of fear when it comes to the ocean, and travelling across it for days at a time might not be something I can stomach just yet.

Just thinking about it reminds me of the pain, the cold.

“That scares you now,” His words are not a question but I nod anyway. “I think I can help you.”

Nameless squeals in my ear as I must have squeezed him too hard from the shock. He nips my neck, frustrated with me, but doesn’t leave his position which I appreciate.

“You’ll what?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“Help you.” He answers patiently with the edge to his voice now dulled and removed as if it was never there in the first place. I know it was though.

“Why would you help me? You should be punishing me, taking my hand as payment or something else you people do.”

I shouldn’t have said anything but I can’t help myself, whatever game he’s playing with me I don’t like it and wish he’d just be straight with me so that I can prepare for what’s coming.

It’s his turn to be shocked now and the look on his face is as if I’ve just struck him. “Punish you? Take your hand? What are you talking about, Doll?”

For the first time since I’ve woken up, he’s used that horrid nickname, but for some reason it makes me feel better. He called me that in the castle because he liked me, even though I didn’t want him to, and maybe that fondness will save me here.

“My-” I have to stop myself before I say the word father, “previous king would take a hand as payment for the servants who would try to leave without giving notice.”

Why am I telling him this? Only an idiot would give the Red King more ideas or excuses for violence.

But rather than pleasure, his face is a picture of disgust as I speak and his eyes darken as what looks to be rage takes over. I’ve never seen Ruairi like this and would have preferred to keep it that way. His response to Gretchen the other day was bad enough, even if it was in my favour.

“That bastard didn’t suffer enough,” His voice is quiet but low and there’s no missing the venom behind it, “Forgive me for saying as much in the presence of a lady, but I’d gladly take his head all over again.”

The little soup I’ve been able to stomach threatens to make a reappearance at his words, but he doesn’t notice as he’s too busy kicking one of the legs of the bed in frustration. I’ve upset him and found out far too much about my father’s fate in the process.

He took his head. What about my mother? Did he do the same to her as well?

It’s too much and before I know it, my vomit coats the covers surrounding me, making Nameless jump ship and scurry back under the bed. I feel a lot colder now without him on me, but my illness seems to have brought Ruairi back around.

I don’t object while he rubs my back when I retch as I’m too distracted. The blankets are slid away, exposing me to the chilly air of the room and highlighting a shift that I don’t own currently covering my body. How’s that possible?

“I’ll have more brought back, and some more soup and water.” He assures me while walking to the door but I’m too busy reeling at the clothes I’m wearing.

Did he… dress me?

I run my fingers over the soft material in horror, dreading the thought and wondering if the two men that were here before helped him. Saw me.

“Doll, what’s- “ He must see my face, “Oh, no no no. Please don’t worry, it’s my sister’s. She dressed you when you needed to get warm.”

She dressed you.

I release my breath and close my eyes in relief. A man has never seen me like that before, like this even, and to have it be him would be enough to send me over the edge if I’m not there already.

“I am a gentleman, you know.” He tries to tease me like he did back in the castle but it doesn’t reach me here.

A gentleman wouldn’t talk about how he killed my father so brutally, about killing anyone for that matter.

“What are you going to do with me?” I cut through the facade like a knife, no longer caring how it comes across.

I’ve taken him aback clearly as he rubs the back of his neck for the second time so far, but that’s no longer my problem. I just need his answers.

“I’m going to help you, Dalliah, like I said I would.” He says it like it’s obvious, but it’s not. “I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you think.”

“I don’t know what to think.” The words leave my mouth rather than remain in my head.

He takes a spare blanket from the back of one of the chairs he and his men were sitting around before, and offers it to me. I take it, as I am colder than I’d like to admit but I don’t speak. It’s his turn for explanations now.

“I can help you leave Apheya, pay for it even, but I’d like to offer you a deal.” He starts, reading my face for a second before continuing on. “I have a tour to make around the new kingdo, now that I’m King, and could use a companion. If you would be that companion, I will pay for your safe passage to wherever you wish.”

My instinct is to object right away but he senses this and holds up a hand, asking me to wait. “It doesn’t take a genius to see your recent trepidation towards water. This tour will give you time to heal and recover from it before you leave.”

I can’t deny the advantages he has laid out just now on a silver platter, the logic is sound but it doesn’t mean that it makes sense. “What could possibly be in it for you?”

“Does it matter?”

Does it? I mean there’s clearly a hidden motive here but I’m struggling to find it. Not long ago I was expecting to lose a limb or something else equally as horrid. But he’s promised not to hurt me, offered the perfect way to help me and I don’t know what to do.

He wants me to be his companion, what would that entail? “Define companion.”

He shrugs, something I didn’t think kings were allowed to do. “Eat with me, talk to me, be there.”

“That’s all?”

I find this very hard to believe. He could ask anyone to be his companion, for free, yet he wants that of me. Why?

Better yet, could I do it? Eat, chat and live with him after all he has done to me, to my life. Can I set my grudge aside for however long it takes to get over my fear and finally disappear across the water?

I find my answer in one simple question, what other options do I have?