How to Make a Sinner Sleep

51 | believe; a slice of bread and jam

A walk in the dark was terrifying in the way that anything could watch from the shadows, slipping in between creaks of trees and the rustle of animals. It was scary how vulnerable a person became; prey to whatever roamed the night.

Conversely, the feeling of solitude blanketing over like a gust of cold wind after walking in the scorching sunlight was addicting. The way it was just a person and the moonlight, and whatever strangeness lurked in the shadows in harmony.

Taking a walk outside of a haunted cabin—Kaden wasn't sure if that was stupidity or brilliance, though he doubted whether there really were ghosts to begin with.

He lit a candle light, lifting it up as he wrapped a jacket around his body.

His steps were light, naturally weaving between the places among the boards that would make the least sound. A habit learned, necessary for his survival in his youth. He was brought back to his past, the days as a thief sneaking by.

When he first entered the palace, he'd also sneaked into the kitchen after being too scared to eat the food that had been brought to him.

It was reasonable; he'd once been given bread by a noble's child, only to have maggots crawl out of the festering green inside the bread. He'd thrown it in terror while the children laughed at his miserable state.

As the young boy, cleaned but still filthy at heart, climbed the counters to rummage through for food, the door had creaked open.

Kaden had launched himself into hiding, curling in the corners.

Reed stood, holding up a candlelight that warmed his tender features, as he glanced around the room. The prince hadn't said anything, softly walking inside as he pulled out two plates and some bread and jam.

Kaden watched cautiously from the corner as Reed spread the jam over both pieces of bread, and then crouched down beside a wall. He placed a plate down at his side.

The prince had then taken a large, unsightly bite out of the bread. He gobbled it up with enthusiasm, indifferent to the red jam coating his fingers in a mess.

It was this sight that had prompted Kaden to peek out of his hiding spot, slowly creeping closer. Reed kept his sights evenly on the bread, but his eyes had darted sideways with amusement as Kaden snatched up the bread and ate it quickly.

The careful boy swallowed the bread as if it could get stolen back at any moment. Reed waited, and then asked, "Still hungry?"

Kaden had still been distrustful of the noble looking teenager, but his stomach rumbled—and he decided, if he was keeping a good eye on the teenager when he made food, then maybe it was okay to take his food.

Just a little bit.

Late at night, in the darkness of the royal family's kitchen, one teenager and one child sat on the ground beside each other.

Kaden stopped by the windows along the hallway of the house, curtains parted wide to reveal the forest outside, and the hum of birds floating along the night's breeze. He saw his reflection, and gloom filled his gaze.

Who would've expected, that the first person the cautious little boy decided to trust would become his downfall?

Kaden turned away, not wanting to continue looking at even a shadow of himself when something flickered in his gaze. A flutter of white in the corner of his eye. He spun his head around, frowning.

Nothing was there.

Was he tired enough to see hallucinations, or was his blessing toying with his mind again? Then, he heard the sweet whispers of a woman's voice behind him, and he turned again.