The Rebel (#Wattys2016)

15. Runaways

The night before the day of the ball, a knock on Adeen's door stopped her usual routine. Her maids had already left, so she stood up and opened her door. Skander greeted her, and she tried not to open the door too much, fearful he might see her in her short nightgown.

"Skander?"

"Hey. Did I wake you up or something?"

"No."

"Good. Do you think you could come with me?"

Skander looked as he had always looked now, stressed and tired. Ever since their dancing lessons, they hadn't spoken, much less dated.

"It's almost ten."

"I know. I just—" he ran a hand through his hair, "I just need to unwind a little. My father has been especially annoying nowadays."

Adeen eyed him, his red eyes, and his messy hair. "Alright. Let me just change, okay?"

He nodded and she let him in. He sat on her bed and Adeen went into her bathroom. She changed into a longer simple gown and then went out.

"Thank you. I know it's late and—"

"Skander, it's okay." Adeen followed him out of her rooms. The hall was empty, dimly lit by the yellow lights over them. "You know that I'm here, whatever you need."

"Thank you."

He didn't speak much on their way. He led her through hallways, past guards, up the stairs, until they arrived at a set of double doors. Skander opened them to a gigantic room that made Adeen stop on her tracks. High bookshelves greeted her. She went in the library.

The room was a maze of bookshelves. Stone walls, floors and ceilings made it seem as if it was older, ancient. In the center of it all, there was a desk.

"Welcome to my favorite place in the castle." Skander led her to the center. There, he sat on a chair. Adeen did the same. "It's just so calming to be surrounded by books."

Although she knew she couldn't understand half of them, Adeen was still calmed from the books.

"Are you alright?" Adeen asked.

Skander put his face on his hands. "I don't know." He whispered. "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"I keep having these dreams. Nightmares. You're in them. Remember my deal with my father? You're the rebel. The one I have to kill. And I try to fight my father, I really do, but at the end he always wins, and I'm always forced to be the one pulling the trigger. I'm always the one killing you."

"Skander, it's just a dream."

"I know. I tell myself that every time I wake up. But then I try to find the meaning behind it."

Skander stood up. "Have you found it?" Adeen asked.

"Yes. I think it's because of the attack. I put you here, in this castle. My father and his advisors chose most of the Selected, but I chose you. My father didn't want you, but I managed to convince him. And now I'm keeping you here. I mean, you can leave as soon as you want to, but I keep begging you not to, I keep trying to make you stay. And it's dangerous. Being here is dangerous, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

Adeen stood up and took his hands in hers. "Skander, I'm here because I want to." Adeen was sure that although it had started as a mission, the Selection no longer felt like one. "Really."