The Princess's Guard ✔️

44

Word Count: 2456

~Kiva

I stare up at the grey ceiling, tapping my fingers against my stomach.

I've spent a great deal of time contemplating my own thoughts. Through this, I've managed to come to a single conclusion.

There may be only one way of getting out of here, and that is through my mate.

My door is left unlocked at all times, but I hear the scuff of feet constantly outside, reminding me that any attempts to leave would be thwarted.

I'm used to having guards outside my door, but this is a different sensation. These ones are to keep me in, rather than keep others out.

The door opens, scraping against the concrete floor. This room, this building, hasn't been erected with comfort in mind. They clearly always intended for me to be held captive here, although the nature of my dwellings showed that they don't care about comfort.

I don't look toward the door, already aware of who it is.

"You haven't eaten," he says softly, noting my tray of untouched food on the floor.

My lack of eating isn't a form of protest. I genuinely have no appetite, constantly sickened by my circumstances.

"I'm not hungry," I mumble.

He pulls up his usual chair. "It's been a week, Kiva."

I turn my head, glaring at him. He looks stressed, dark shadows lingering beneath his eyes, tension in his arms and shoulders.

"You haven't bothered to come visit me."

"Every time I stop by you seem to be sleeping," he notes, looking over me. "I should never leave you side, but your father is trying to get you back so I've been busy ensuring he doesn't learn of your whereabouts."

I roll my eyes. At least my father is trying to hunt me down, which means there is a possibility he will free me before I escape. I can't rely on that, though.

So to escape, I'm going to have to gain Ark's trust. I just can't make it obvious yet.

"I'm so used to this I'm not even surprised."

"Once you learn what is happening, you will understand why being near him is not in your best interest," he tells me, repeating the notion that has been overexplained to me recently.

They love to tell me my father is a bad man, but not why.

I roll over, adjusting the pillow beneath my head, letting my eyes flutter closed. "Whatever."

Sleeping has been the only way for me to escape this reality. It's far easier than staring tiredly at the walls, or reading the books that Ark has provided me. I don't feel like taking any favours from him right now.

"I'll tell you soon. I promise," he soothes.

I squeeze my eyes tighter shut. "You can leave now."

"Eat. Please," he encourages. He sounds on the brink of desperation, so obviously worried about my condition. "You not eating is why you're sleeping so often."

I roll back over, meeting his gaze. "I'm a prisoner here, Ark."

He blinks, not liking the term prisoner, but he knows that is what I may as well be. My charge: being related to an allegedly despicable man.

"This will be over soon."

I sit up, taking him by surprise. I'm suddenly overwhelmed with a flurry of frustration, brought on by my sudden awareness of my enclosure. I've managed to avoid the thought of these four grey walls closing in on me so far, but now, it seems impossible to avoid.