Heart's Revenge [On Hold]

Ch. 22: A New Start

Naqam finished his final circuit through the forest, sprinting hard from the edge of the trees to the wall. He slapped his palm against the dark stone to mark the end of his morning run, then braced his hands on his knees, breathing hard. The sun beat down on his back, but was offset by the wind that seemed to be a perpetual presence here.

"Little slower today," Sebati said, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall near the gate.

"Was not," Naqam responded, jerking upright, outraged. Then he blinked in surprise at the reserved, teasing smile the Seven flashed him.

Sebati's smile faded when Naqam didn't return the gesture in a timely manner. The guard gave him an odd look, then went back into the guard's room. Naqam sighed. Sebati was certainly the friendliest of the guards, but there were limits to his civility.

He nodded when one of the other guards opened the gate to let him into the castle's courtyard. The only response he got was a stony glare. That, at least, did not catch him by surprise.

King Killian had made it clear that the Heart's Ace was to be a permanent fixture at Spade Castle. He had not required the Ace be treated in a friendly manner. Which Naqam supposed he understood.

After all, he was still a Heart and—by definition—untrustworthy. He wasn't so optimistic as to think he wouldn't have to prove his worth, and in all honesty, he wanted to prove that he was trustworthy. Nothing had ever been handed to him in his life, he'd always had to work for what he had, and—probably much to Naktis' chagrin—that had left the Ace with a fierce prideful streak. 

He would earn the King's trust, or he wouldn't want it at all.

Three weeks at Spade Castle had passed steadily after their return from the Diamonds. Naqam had quickly fallen into a routine that consisted of self-imposed workouts, ghosting through the castle trying to learn the layout down to the smallest closet and reading, which he found he actually quite enjoyed when the books were not musty old tomes full of false history. But he could only read for so long. And wandering the castle came with its own challenges.

Overall... he was bored. Epically, dreadfully, suicidally bored.

He was not allowed into the village. He was not allowed to spar with the guards. He was not allowed to go out riding by himself.

He was apparently allowed to go slowly insane.

Two weeks ago, Hatter had disappeared back to that ranch of his, and Naqam wished fiercely that the Real Worlder had taken him along. Early mornings and late nights bracketing days filled with hard work were much more appealing than what he had here.

He used the sleeve of his shirt to brush the sweat from his forehead, then stared blankly at the castle doors before him. Naqam did not want to go back inside, even as a chill wind whipped off the sea, making him shiver. He wasn't ready to try to ignore the obvious dislike exhibited by a majority of the castle's inhabitants—the way servants still skirted around him, some going far out of their way to avoid him. The way courtiers and visiting dignitaries sneered.

The only people who made an effort to talk to him were Tarian, Alice and Adira. One genuine, one pitying and one grudgingly. The King—if Naqam saw him—never spoke to the Ace, merely watched him with a narrow, thoughtful expression Naqam couldn't quite decipher.

Slowly, he turned from the doors and headed toward the western gardens, where he'd at least be protected from the wind.

As if conjured by his thoughts, another burst of wind blew his hair free of the strip of cloth he'd used to tie it back, strands whipping against his face and making him growl. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, then frowned at the red strands still fluttering in the breeze.