Fatal Bonds

CHAPTER THREE

 I've never had a room. It only occurs to me now, as the guards open the doors for us to enter his chambers. It could be the size of a house. A round, rustic wooden table sits in the centre, with two sets and lunch being prepared by the maids. The silver cutlery glistens in their hands as they set it down. The afternoon sun lights up the large bedroom, except it doesn't just have a bed with imperial red covers, pillows and veils on each wooden post - it has a crackling fireplace, shelves full of books, embroidered gold rugs and tall, arched windows.

I stalk a few steps behind the prince, watching as he approaches his bed. It feels wrong to be in here, with such luxurious things. Especially when I am covered in dirt.

"You know," the prince begins, touching the blankets on his bed. "I've always hated this colour - red."

The guards hastily close the door once the maids scurry out.

"Why?" I ask, without the looming unease of the others.

He stands there, head bowed. "I just do," he answers, his voice quiet. "It reminds me of evil, of death."

I suppose, I think, rather than say.

He turns to face me. "You ought to have a bath before lunch," he insists. "You stink." The corners of his lips lift.

I can't help but give a small smile. "You're right."

He gestures to the bath in the corner of his room, a large round wooden-black bucket, with red velvet curtains reaching all the way to the dome-like roof. Thankfully, there's a tapestry screen for changing. Even so, I already have to bathe in front of him.

"It's already full and there's clothes for you on the stool there," he adds, nodding at them.

I press my lips together and amble over - unsure what to say, think, feel. This all feels so surreal, yet as if it was meant to happen. I peel my clothes off like a snake shedding its skin, revealing its true layers. A weak, dirty commoner boy. Left to the dust.

I don't check behind me to see if he's looking. Instead, I hop straight into the warm, soapy water. It smells of sandalwood and myrrh, like the vials in the markets - the fragrance of the rich and powerful. My body shivers, despite the heat, since I haven't bathed in...

"It's not gone cold, has it?"

I look up and over at him, suddenly aware of my very bare skin, even though I'm submerged in the water. "No, it's fine. Thank you."

He hovers at the table, picking a green pear from the golden fruit bowl. "It's Cassian, by the way." Crunch. He tears a big chunk out with his teeth.

My brows pull together. "What?"

He leans against the table, facing me, still chewing. "My name," he tells me. "You can call me Cassian."

"Oh," is all I can muster, for the very realisation that I haven't properly spoken to someone, let alone had a friend - especially one being the prince - dawns on me. "Well, I'm -"

Another crunch. "Azael," he says between chews. "I know. Azael Aeron. It is a strange name."

For someone like you, is what he means to say.

Cassian simply stares at me, not a single crease of cruelty in his face. "You truly do not know of your parents? Of where you came from?"

I shake my head, the bath water starting to feel cold. "No, I don't. All I remember is wandering around the village, scrounging for food and water, sleeping at stables. Nothing more."

He grimaces. "I'm sorry," he says, softly. "That sounds so... sad."

I shrug. "It doesn't matter," I dismiss. "Since I can't remember most of it, there's nothing to be sad about."

Cassian goes silent - even his crunching sounds slow. "Well, hurry up, will you? I'm hungry."

"Right, yes."

I start splashing the water on my hair and rubbing the soap in, then scrubbing all the dirt off my skin with this weird, horse-like brush. Once I'm sure the essential oils have soaked into my pores, I clamber out of the tub, snatch up the clothes and slide behind the tapestry. I wrestle the undergarments on, then the black trousers and roan blouse with a ruffled collar. It feels all too... proper for me.

"Are you decent yet?" Cassian asks.

I slip the socks and black leather boots on before stepping out. "Uhm... yes."

He stares at me for a second, then nods. "Your skin is quite tan," he comments. "I thought it was the dirt. But, you look good."

"It feels strange." My lips fold in together.

His eyes dart over me again. "It doesn't. Come sit down and eat." He moves over to the table and takes a seat.

I copy, staring at the enormous plate of roasted vegetables, chickpeas and a slab of salmon. This seems like a side to the big bowl of fruit and dried nuts. Wow, I think.

Cassian smirks and starts to cut up his salmon. "You ought to eat it all," he insists. "So we can grow bigger and stronger. Especially if you are to fight tomorrow."

I gingerly pick up my knife and fork, digging into the salmon. "Do you know who I am to fight?"

He slows his chewing again, and his face falls. "The best of them all," he says, swallowing. "Edom."

My stomach curls in both hunger and anticipation. "And how great is he?"

His shoulders tighten upwards. "He's never lost a battle before."