"You have to stop doing that."
"Stop doing what?"
"Saying things that makes me want to kiss you when I can't."
Becoming the prince's personal bodyguard should be a dream come true, shouldn't it? Good pay, palace life, but the real gem that eve...
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"It's nothing, Caz. Just forget about it," I try brushing the topic off, my words carrying a sense of nonchalance, as I recline onto the unforgivingly solid mattress.
Casimir's brow furrowed with a mixture of annoyance and concern. My attempt to dismiss what had just occurred only made him more worried.
"Rissa," Casimir calls, his voice gentle but insistent. His eyes bore into mine, a clear reflection of his desire to understand what is troubling me. However, as if he recognised my reluctance, a sigh escapes his lips, and he shifts his gaze elsewhere.
"Does it hurt?" He asks, changing the topic.
A brief silence envelopes us. I am taken aback by his willingness to cease probing.
"No," I say quietly.
He turns his gaze back to me, his eyes flickering between the hand that had been stomped on and the bruise marring my cheek. I catch a fleeting glimpse of something in his expression. A subtle quiver in his lower lip, a barely noticeable furrow in his brow. It is as if, beneath his layers of concern, lays an unspoken ache that mirrors my own.
Then, he pulls his gaze away from me.
"Try to get some rest," he says softly, "I'll go check on the others."
With those words, he leaves the hut without uttering another sound.
I squeeze my eyes shut, a merciless pang of guilt coursing through me.
I couldn't be honest with him.
I keep my eyes firmly closed and, without realising, I drift off into a restless slumber.
♚♚♚
"We shouldn't go."
"None of us wants to but it seems like the only choice we have now, Ree."
"I just don't understand what they want from her and for some reason, they won't tell us."
"Ree is right. We can't possibly send Casimir back to that wretched place again either."
I am pulled from the depths of my sleep by a chorus of hushed murmurs. The voices seem to dance on the edge of my consciousness, their words almost indistinct but laden with an air of urgency. Groggily, I blink my eyes open, my surroundings slowly coming into focus. The dimly lit hut reveal the vague outlines of familiar silhouettes huddled together.
As I stir, the murmurs cease, replaced by an abrupt silence. I can sense the tension in the air, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy. Confusion swirls within me, and my eyes flicker to adjust to the brightness.
"I think she's awake," a feminine voice notes, its timbre carrying a mix of worry and anticipation.
"What's going on?" I venture, my voice a raspy whisper, as I grapple with the fog of sleep that still clings to my mind.
