Chapter 51 Chapter 51: Silk and Steel
Senna’s POV
I woke up in a bed that was too soft. That was the first thing I noticed. I didn’t notice the ceiling above me, or the quiet. I didn’t notice the unfamiliar scent of something clean and floral.
I noticed the bed.
It was so comfortable and lush, like being on a cloud. That’s how I knew I was somewhere very unfamiliar.
I pushed myself up too fast. Pain flared through my side, like sharp knives. It was enough to make me suck in a breath.
“Right,” I muttered. My wound came flooding back to me. It was still there, although it was heavily bandaged and not nearly as painful as it had been.
Looking around, the room came into focus slowly. It had high ceilings and floor to ceiling windows that were draped in heavy, burgundy fabric. The walls were lined with polished wood. The entire room had a soft light that didn’t flicker or shift.
Where the hell was I?
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and carefully tested my weight before I stood up. The floor felt cool under my feet.
“Hello?” I called out.
But no one answered.
Getting out of the bed, I walked over to the door and tried the handle.
I figured it would be locked, but to my surprise, it opened.
The hallway beyond the room was just as polished as the room I was in. Glancing down it, I saw that it stretched out in both directions. There was no one in the hallway.
I stepped out and felt it immediately.
Someone was watching me. I turned left and walked ten steps.
That was as far as I made it before a figure stepped into view from behind a door. It was a man and he was dressed in dark, formal clothing.
“Miss Senna,” he said politely. “You should return to your room.”
“Or what?” I asked. Piecing things together, I realized that I was at the Moren estate. That made sense.
He didn’t answer, but he was blocking my path. So I turned and went the other way. But halfway down the hall, another guard stepped out.
“You shouldn’t be out walking about,” he said, his face stern. “Go back to your room.”
There was no point in arguing with them. They weren’t going to let me pass.
“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll go back to my room.”
If I couldn’t get out this way, I’d have to find another way. I had no intention of staying locked up in that bedroom like a prisoner.
As I walked back to my bedroom though, the smell hit me.
Food. Real food. Not scavenged bits of scraps and berries. Not hunted small animals roasted over an open flame. This was proper food. Cooked and warm.
My stomach rumbled. Following the scent, I saw that it was coming from a door close to my bedroom. Glancing into the door, I saw a wide, open kitchen.
My heart froze.
Thistle was sitting at a long table in the center. He was staring at the spread of food like it might attack him if he looked away for too long. He had a fork in his hand but he wasn’t using it.
He was just…holding it.
“Senna?”
His head snapped up when he saw me. Relief washed over his face so fast it made something in my chest tighten.
“You’re alive,” I said, rushing into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” he said, standing up quickly. His chair scraped loudly against the floor. “Are you okay?”
“Barely,” I chuckled. He came to me and we embraced. He laughed, a little shaky. We stayed like that for a moment longer before I pulled back and looked him over properly.
“Are you okay?” I asked, smoothing his hair.
“Yeah,” he said. “They…cleaned me up. Fed me. And they gave me this.” He held up the fork like it was evidence of something suspicious.
“I don’t trust it,” he whispered.
I chortled. “It’s not a weapon, Thistle. It’s an eating utensil. A fork. Have you never seen a fork before?”
He shook his head. I wasn’t surprised. He was from Sector 5, from the poorest part of it. He likely had grown up eating with his hands. Forks were for fancy people, for nobility. I’d rarely used a fork myself.
I glanced around the kitchen. There were no visible guards inside.
“They said I’m a ward now,” he told. “What does that mean?”
I didn’t answer him right away. I wasn’t sure how much of the truth I wanted to give him.
“It means you’re under their protection,” I said finally.
“And if I don’t want to be?”
I met his eyes.
“Well,” I sighed, “that’s not really part of the deal.”
He frowned. “So warden means prisoner,” he said flatly.
“I’m here,” I said, cutting him off gently. “That’s all that matters. We’re together.”
He studied me for a second, the he nodded.
“Okay.”
I pulled him back into another hug before I could stop myself. Being a ward wasn’t ideal. He was basically a slave. They’d train him to do a job, like serve or clean. But it was better than the alternative. At least he was alive.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as he pulled away.
“Starving,” I told him. He motioned for me to sit at the table.
“I don’t know what any of this stuff is,” he shrugged as he sat down across from me. “But it smells good.”
Nodding, I helped myself to some of the meat and vegetables. They felt like heaven in my mouth. I’d never had food like this. It was seasoned and cooked perfectly. Seeing that I ate it, Thistle helped himself too.
“Where’s Isolde?” I asked him. “And Korrigan?” I couldn’t bring myself to ask about Thor.
“I don’t know,” he told me. “I haven’t seen them. Maybe they let them go home?”
His eyes were hopeful. I highly doubted that though. “Maybe,” I smiled at Thistle.
We ate in silence for a bit. What was there to say? We were both prisoners now of the Moren family. Was this better than being on the island? As the food melted in my mouth, I figured that it was.
It wasn’t ideal.
But it was better. Thistle was there. I could keep an eye on him. And I’d track down what happened to Korrigan and Isolde and…
…Thor.
And that would have to be enough for the time being.