The Princess's Guard ✔️

43

I follow Ark down the narrow hallway, dodging an old bookshelf in desperate need of a dusting and a pile of boxes filled with things that don't seem to have a home anywhere.

"This was my bedroom," he tells me grimly, motioning into an adjoining room.

I look inside, expecting to see it in a similar state to the rest of the house, but it isn't. It's clean, simple and tidy. Just like Ark.

Upon deeper inspection, it becomes clear this room hasn't been lived in for a long time. There's a neatly stacked pile of books on a small desk tucked near the bed, an old jacket draped on the chair.

"Wow. Your room," I exclaim. "You have been my mate for months now and I never knew what your personal space looked like."

"I don't stay here as often as I would like," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

I wander over to the dresser, picking up a portrait of a boy and a girl. I recognise what must be Ark, and beside him, a smaller girl, beaming up at him.

"Whose this?" I ask softly.

He looks over my shoulder. "My sister."

"She's beautiful." I run my finger along the portrait, smiling softly. He didn't mention a sister, but then again, he didn't mention a mother either. She looks a lot like him, with the same dark features and sharp bone structure.

"She was," he says after a long pause.

I turn, looking up at him. "Was?"

"She ran away over a year ago. Don't bring it up to my mother," he warns sternly.

I nod mutely, absorbing that information. By the way he has tensed up, a hurt look blooming in his eyes, it's clear this torments him. I can only imagine the pain he's experienced, being left by someone he obviously cared about very deeply.

"That's so sad. You haven't heard from her?" I ask gently.

"No. And it's not for a lack of trying, trust me," he sighs, staring down at the picture.

I set it down, straightening. I'm allowing myself to be distracted by this tragedy instead of keeping a distance from Ark and finding a way out of here.

"Is her running away what turned you evil?" I ask, setting it back down again on the dresser.

"I've been killing people long before she left," he admits, turning away. "I shouldn't have been so absent. After my father died, I should have stuck around more and looked out for her. Money wasn't enough."

Going silent, I watch him carefully. This may be a purposeful attempt by Ark to let me see another side of him, to gain my trust.

But there is no mistaking the true pain that haunts him.

He tells me to stay in the room, to wait while he deals with something else in the house. I oblige him, curious about where he is going.

Edging toward the door to his bedroom, I peer out into the hallway, watching him disappear into a room at the end.

I glance toward his bedroom window. I could escape now, but where would I go? Even if I sprinted as hard as I could, Ark would likely notice me due to the flat, endlessly long land that surrounds this place.

I may as well be surrounded by a massive lake I can't swim in.

Gritting my teeth, I wander silently down the hallway toward the room. I don't know what Ark is doing, but I want to know. He's brought me to his old family home, and now it seems as though he doesn't want to show me much beyond his bedroom door.