Love Untouched

The Hill beside the Palace

This chapter has been edited but as usual if you find any mistakes that I may have missed, please let me know :) Enjoy!!

With night rapidly coming to an end, Abernathy is quickly led to his new room by a young maid named Marie. She gives him a small smile before leaving him to stare at the door to his room. Slowly, he opens it. It is a small room, no bigger than an average broom closet, filled with a bed and a dresser for his belongings. He enters the room and sits his things on his bed while suppressing a long and tired yawn.

            “Who might you be?” A masculine voice asks from behind him.

            The farm boy turns around and sees a man, not much older than himself, at the door. The man’s dark hair is cut short, revealing his mysterious, cat-like eyes. He crosses his tanned forearms over his chest and leans against the door frame awaiting an answer.

            Abernathy clears his throat. “I’m Aber,” he says.

            The man steps forward and offers his hand. “My name’s James, but everyone calls me Jag.”

            The two shake hands before Jag sits on a smaller bed hidden in the corner that Abernathy hadn’t noticed. “We’re roommates?” Aber asks as he begins to sort out his clothes.

            “Looks that way,” Jag shrugs and pulls a cigarette out of his pocket before lighting it up. The smoke fills the room and Aber finds himself coughing involuntarily.

            “So, Jag,” Abernathy starts, “where are you from?”

            “I was born and raised in Tanza,” he nods towards the wall. “It’s just over the Bay.” Jag takes another drag.

Aber waves away the smoke before forming another question. “From what I know, Tanza is a very wealthy kingdom. I haven’t heard of many people wanting to leave. May I ask what brought you here?”

“My father was a high member of the church and my mother was a nurse.” Jag starts. “We lived very comfortably for a while but a few years after Mother had my brother, my father was murdered for the little change in his pocket. I was only twelve.” He takes a deep breath and puts out his cigarette, no longer in the mood. He closes his eyes trying hard not to let the pain show on his face. “My mother wasn’t making enough money to keep the house so she had to work double shifts at a factory. I dropped out of school to take care of Deacon, my brother.

            “Night after night, Mother would come home more tired than the day before. She became deathly sick when I was fifteen. I took her place at the factory and I applied for a job here.” He shrugs and lies down on the bed. “I’ve been here for four years now.” At Abernathy’s silence, he speaks again. “What about you?”

            The young boy sits on his bed and begins speaking. Jag is silent, intently listening to Aber’s story. It isn’t until the farm boy begins to relive his encounter with the princess does Jag stop him.

            “Let me get this straight,” he starts as he stares into Abernathy’s eyes. “You met the dreaded princess and lived to tell the tale?” He chuckles and wags his finger. “You’re a lucky one, I’ll tell you.”

            “What do you mean by calling her dreaded?” The young boy leans toward Jag, curious. “She seemed pleasant enough.”

            “Far from it,” he says as he moves to sit next to Aber. “She’s like a lion on the prowl, searching for a meal around every corner. It’s best to stay out of her way.” He lowers his voice and leans in closer. “I once saw a maid cower in the corridor as she passed. The old chap that used to work on the farms quit because of how mean and spiteful the princess had been to him.” He clicks his tongue. “Usually when new workers arrive she’s so…angry. She lashes out at every little thing. It’s amazing you survived.”