A Betrayal of Storms by Ben Alderson

Chapter 10

Islept well, considering the events of the day. It had likely been the longest day I had ever lived through, and one I did not wish to revisit again. For the first time, in a long time, I had woken in my own time, swaddled in heavy, stiff blankets as though I was a baby in a crib, the feathered pillow so pregnant that my head drowned in it, blocking out all sound. When I closed my eyes it was as if I floated in a sea of nothingness.

The new room was smaller than the first, windowless and buried deep in the pits of the manor. It seemed to be far below ground where natural light did not reach it. Undying flames burned in lamps throughout the modest room, reflecting a halo of burnt orange light across the chunky, mundane oak furniture that filled the room. Not that I was complaining, for it was far greater than the room I had left behind. But I felt that it was more suited for someone... older. Ancient perhaps. A person who did not care to see the world move beyond windows. Someone accustomed to being kept away from sound and life.

I loved the seclusion, mainly for the quiet but also the added fact that no windows meant no flying demons smashing through to get me. And as I blinked the sleep from my eyes, the vision of the Gryvern still seemed as prevalent in my mind as it had before I had fallen into sleep.

A young, nervous looking fey girl entered after knocking on the closed door. For a moment, before she came in, I stared at the door as though my silence would succumb to an answer. Did she wait for my invitation or signal that I was awake? But soon enough she slipped into the room, the door opened enough for me to catch the glint of armour beyond it.

They still guarded me, from the Gryvern or something else I was not certain, fey warriors each decorated with weapons that I could not name.

After what Althea had explained about my suggested heritage, I understood I was highly important. And that caused a sickening yet thrilling bubbling to fill my empty stomach.

The Icethorn Court. My mother was from the... As though sleep had muffled the grief, it all came flooding back at once, popping the bubbles of thrill in my stomach, leaving me only feeling sick.

I snapped out of the daze as the clinking of silverware rattled before me. The young girl lowered a tray across the crumpled bedding, bowing her ginger-haired head low. I tugged the blanket up to my chin, covering my chest, and forced a smile of appreciation. "Thanks," I said, trying to lighten the obvious tension. "I'm so hungry I could eat an entire horse."

As though I had screamed bloody murder, the girl suddenly turned, her little feet pattering across the slabbed floor as she exited in a rush, still careful not to slam the door on the way out.

"It's a figure of speech... I don't really want to eat a horse," I called after her, swallowing my shout toward the end as a guard had caught my line of sight before the door had closed again.

Strange, that was the only way I could sum up the interaction. How she could not look at me in the eyes, or how her hands shook as she presented me with the tray of food.

She was scared, or at least uneased by my presence. Had she seen what I had done to the first room? Or was she more frightened that if she lingered too long by me, the Gryvern would return and take her too?

I ate the warmed sausage, toasted bread and cheese without leaving a scrap behind. It hardly filled the void, but it would do. Once the plate was empty, I clambered from bed and changed back into the clothing I had worn when Althea and Erix had escorted me into this secluded room. The only difference was the creased material, caused by leaving them in a forgotten heap on the floor.

Father would scold me if he saw, and that thought made me smile. For a man with little to his name, he taught me to take pride in what we did have. Keeping him in mind, I brushed my hands over the shirt and trousers to ease the creases out.