Tell No One

Chapter 44

Kiera knew her way to the dining room by now, but for some reason, Analise still walked her there. She didn't bring it up; she enjoyed her company.

The whole Keep seemed to be in mourning. The halls seemed quieter, the lights dimmer, the air somehow stale. The servants Kiera had passed hadn't acknowledged her, seemingly growing smaller as she passed. It had her unsettled.

Analise gave her a small curtsey as she departed Kiera, having reached the dining room door.

Kiera entered, her footsteps hushed by the thick carpet. Ramatee wasn't here yet. Kiera took her seat- she always sat in the same seat, so much that she'd come to think of it as hers- and waited patiently for him to arrive. There was already food on the table, bread and fruit for her in case she was feeling peckish whilst waiting. Letting out a deep sigh, she absentmindedly traced the brand on her neck with her hand. The skin was raised slightly where it had been damaged, puckered slightly beneath her fingertips. Her anger towards it had vanished, replaced with a mild discontentment to having it thrust so roughly upon her. But, she supposed, this was her life now. She didn't have much power around her.

Truth was, she was trying to work out the best way to ask Ramatee for something she wanted. Something that rightly belonged to him. She thought of the best way to put it- she felt, if she said it in the right way, that he might consider it.

Suddenly the door opened, a tall dark silhouette now taking up the doorway. Kiera's eyes snapped to attention. She smiled and stood up, smoothing down the skirt of her dress. Ramatee returned her smile and walked to his seat. Sitting down, Kiera quickly followed suit.

"Good evening, Ramatee." Kiera was still turning over the question in her head, running through all the possible reactions he could have to her question.

"Good evening, Kiera." Ramatee's voice rolled pleasantly across the table. It was clear he was in a good mood, his face contented. She saw his eyes dim a bit as they skimmed over the fading blue swirls of her face, but other than that, he seemed happy enough.

As if on cue, the kitchen doors opened, and out came the kitchen staff with tonight's meal. Kiera wasn't watching her plate as it was set down, but rather Ramatee's reaction. She watched his every movement, the way he mouthed an approval at the servant as she placed the plate down in front of him, the anticipation on his face as he looked at his meal. He glanced up at Kiera, giving her a small questioning smile, obviously noticing her scrutiny.

"So, Kiera, how was your day?" How was her day? After the traumatic spectacle of this morning, Kiera had spent her time picking out books from the library, which had an impressive collection of literature from both the past and the present. She'd ventured to the top shelves on the highest point of the balcony, finding an interest in running her finger along the spines.

She'd taken a stack to sift through, heaving them down to one of the chaise lounges that lined the walls. The time seemed to melt away as she sifted through pages and pages of books, touching the covers and inhaling their scent. There was something special about the smell of old books, a certain nostalgia that didn't belong to her, yet she somehow experienced. Personally, the smell reminded her of vanilla, and Kiera felt a pang in her chest as she remembered home.
Well, technically this was her home now. The home she'd be referring to was her old life, way before all of this. Before she lost everything.
Looking down at the books spread across her lap, Kiera suddenly felt a great sorrow resonate from deep within her. Gathering them up in her arms, Kiera placed them back in their order- keeping one.

Divine Comedy.

It was the swirled gold lettering that had initially pulled her in, the red leather binding that made it stand out from the rest. It smelled different, too. It smelled sweeter somehow, and upon flicking to the contents page, Kiera found herself thoroughly intrigued.
She wondered if she was allowed to take it back to her room, then inwardly scoffed. Just that morning, someone had been- in essence- killed because of her, she would be allowed to take one book.