A Shattered Dawn

Chapter 6

I feel my heart accelerate its constant beat. I do not speak, but rather play the same hand I did earlier, feigning stupidity and misunderstanding.

"What do you mean?"

I immediately feel as though I have walked into a trap and resist the urge to slip out of his grip and run far away from here.

Luckily for me, he speaks before I can act upon my thoughts.

"Come on. Luce must have told you about how stunning the men here are,"

And with that, he guides me onto the dance floor and begins to waltz with me. I do not feel safe in his grip and again fight the urge to run, but I force myself to stay, keep a small smile on my face and my features composed.

"Hm..."

I tease him, looking off into the distance and pondering his question.

"Yes, I do believe she mentioned something of the sort,"

I draw my gaze back to him to find him gazing at me with a glazed look in his eyes. He's not even trying to disguise how badly he wants me.

He lifts his hand to grip my jaw, making sure I do not break his stare. The rough calluses on his broad hands brush against the soft skin of my chin—my neck.

He is a man used to getting what he wants.

I chuckle as we move into a complicated step of the dance and he spins me, fast, releasing his grip on me. The ballroom spins around me in a blur as the violin echoes in my ear and for a second, I see the servant boy from earlier again but he vanishes in a second and I shudder to a stop, quickly proceeding to the next sidestep and he dips me low, our faces closer than ever before, before pulling me up and I unwind, spinning, until we are at arm's length again, moving faster and faster with the music.

It finally slows and becomes more melancholy, then speeds in a rapid building of sound, the instruments coming together at last to create a beautiful yet sad symphony, loud and powerful, matching the raging skies. A violin soloist ends the piece with the last hurrah, a final breath after a long battle, a sound of angry defiance, and we end our dance as we did the first: him holding me against his chest, my arms around his neck.

This time; however, I do not push back, and he leans in, kissing me with the passion of a kingdom.

I have kissed someone before. Only once. It was long ago, at least 5 or so years.

It was on a night like this, the rains pushing me into the center of a nearby village where the train I was riding passed through. I slipped away at the station in search of a warm bed and time away from the cold metal of the train. I was being selfish, and for my own comfort, I wanted to get a full night of sleep and stock up on food before stowing away on another train.

There was only one lodge open in the village, and when I walked in, soaked to the bone and shivering, the worker turned me away, explaining that all the rooms were full. They told me I couldn't stay in the lobby because they couldn't get me a room.

I left the lodge to sit on a rain-sodden wooden bench outside the building, barely sheltered from the rain. I sat with my elbows on my knees, hands running through my recently cut shoulder–length hair, dripping with frigid water which didn't contribute to my shivering condition. I was so preoccupied with my thoughts, cursing myself for leaving the train and trying to find somewhere nicer to stay for once, that I didn't realize it when a hooded boy around the same age as I was stopped in front of me.

He tapped on my shoulder, which almost led me to pin him against the wall with a knife to his neck, but I was too weak. He told me that he had a room in the lodge and that I could stay there if I wanted.