The Sanctuary

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Alaya! Alaya, wake up!”

Reece was shaking me awake. I pushed her hands away tiredly, but Reece kept on shaking me.

“Marina is looking for you!”

I could do nothing but moan in response. Every bone in my body ached with a fire I did not recognize. Even in my younger years, where I had pushed myself to the limit, training every waking hour, I had never in my life felt the way I did now.

Like my bones had liquefied and my body was a useless, sagging shell.

“Did you forget? Your responsibilities with the prisoner?”

I shot up in my bed.

The Farsay.

I hadn’t forgotten about him. But in the craziness in the past few days, with Rider training and Madame Widow’s announcement – I had not fully realized that I still had my duties. I still had to go back to that cursed room.

And face the Crown Prince of Farsay.

 “Reece, no!” I said, panicked. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t!”

Reece wrinkled her nose at me, and reached out to pat down my hair as if I was a child. I jerked away, giving Reece a glare. She crossed her arms at me.

“Why not? You were doing it before.”

I opened my mouth to respond and then quickly shut it. I had forgotten that no one else knew what a precious commodity our prisoner had become. Looking at Reece pained, I just shrugged listlessly.

“I don’t want to see that Farsay filth anymore,” I said, hollowly. The words sounded strange in my mouth.

Reece frowned. “Marina won’t leave me alone unless you go. Up, now! Do you want Marina to ban you from the kitchens? She has the power to do that, you know.”

Groaning, I rolled out of bed, wincing with every movement. Reece looked at me up and down, eyes widening. “What happened?”

“I-I trained too hard yesterday,” I mumbled, as I threw on a tunic and a pair of leggings. Slipping into my shoes, I hastily combed my fingers through my hair and walked, tiredly to the entrance of the girl’s dormitory. Reece had only given me a slightly suspicious glance, but seemed to get over it rather quickly. She was used to my extraneous training, which I was grateful for.

Although I would like someone to talk to right about now, I thought as I trudged towards the kitchens to prepare the prisoners food, trying my hardest not to think of Jonrick’s sudden cold affront.

Preparing the food was like dragging myself through thick mud. When I found myself in front of the prisoner’s room moments later, I stood frozen, not able to budge even a little. Flashes of my conversations with the prisoner, the way he spoke my name…it all bubbled to the surface.

I stood there for a long while, moving back and forth on my toes and my heels. My stomach felt queasy and I wanted nothing but to run as far as I could away from this horrid room. I wanted to go back to being seven years old, wrapped up in my father’s arms, with nothing around to hurt me, the world being much more black and white.

Steeling myself, I gripped the tray with clenched fingers and pushed through the doors.

For a second, I could not spot him. Blinking in the darkness, I finally saw him, in the farthest corner of the room, his head on his knees. I took a second, and really looked at him.

He looked as if he had lost weight. His hair was getting shaggier, and a beard was almost in full growth. He looked dirty and unkempt…..sad and forlorn.