The Sanctuary

CHAPTER TWENTY

The days passed, and I was finally proclaimed healthy enough to resume normal duties. Marina had waited anxiously at my bed as Sarika pronounced me capable, nearly demanding that I go back to my responsibilities with the prisoner once more. Marina found the room chilling, the man ridiculously scary. I could hardly hide a smile at Marina’s frightening description. 

So it was a few days after my dreadful training challenge with Jonrick that I found myself once again, walking into the prisoner’s room with a tray of food. I carried it nonchalantly, not forgetting that the last time I was in here, he had touched me. It was these moments, these odd moments  that made me wary and suspicious.

And more than anything, confused.

As soon as I entered, the prisoner was on his feet.

I could not stop myself from backing up as he stormed towards me, his expression murderous. He barely made it a few steps until the ankle chain tugged him back hard, reminding him of his limitations.

“Where have you been?!” The Farsay snapped, his jaw muscle working furiously. He looked around the room, his arms outstretched, rather uselessly. “It’s been four days! I thought-I was sure something had happened-“

Suddenly his stormy blue eyes widened, as he took in my face. I, flabbergasted as I was at his reaction, became conscious of the fact that he was staring at my rather mangled face. Jonrick had left a sizable blooming bruise on my jawbone, and a considerable black eye. My lip was cut and I looked incredibly worse for wear. Reece had been furious at Jonrick, telling us our “training” would be the death of us one day. I had to agree.

As the Farsay took in my features, I felt my cheeks burn up ridiculously. I hid my face away as the Farsay stepped back a few steps, observing me with a deadly severity. 

“What happened?” He asked in a low voice, his fingers clenching. “Did they harm you?”

“What?” I gave him a confused glance. “Who would harm me?”

“Those-those people – the ones with the black vests. Did they wound you?” He asked once more, insistently.

I was absolutely astounded. “Why would they hurt me? What are you going on about?” I realized abruptly that he assumed the Riders had harmed me.

What?

I gave him an almost appalled look.

 “The Riders wouldn’t hurt me. I am training,” I pointed uselessly at my black eye. “This is part of it.”

“Riders?” The Farsay repeated. He was scrutinizing my face intently, as if he was taking stock of all my injuries. “Is that what you call your army?”

The incredulous tone in his voice suddenly raised my shackles. I crossed my arms, defensively. 

 “Yes.” I rose an eyebrow at him in challenge. “And I am joining them.”

The Farsay took a step back, considered me carefully. I fidgeted under his studious eyes, wondering why the hell he was watching me so, until he finally turned away. He walked back to his usual corner of the room, sitting back down. I watched him as he did so, and when he let out a small laugh, I exhaled a breath I did not know I was holding. 

 “Women back in Farsay…they would never do what you do. They stay indoors, they plan families. They wear gigantic dresses and aim to find suitable husbands, raise suitable households. You,” he motioned weakly at my bruised face. “I don’t understand you.”

I narrowed my eyes, and raised my chin rebelliously. “Well, this woman captured the crown prince of Farsay.” 

He scoffed and I frowned at his reaction. I squared my shoulders.