Page 52 of Her Dark Promise

Ihad just finished a rather silent breakfast, no one being in the mood to speak. Not even Soren was in the mood to pepper me with questions. Callum could tell that I was angry and opted not to say anything, knowing that if I needed to let off a little steam, I would seek him out. Which I was sure wouldn’t be long as I was itching to dig my claws into something.

The aggravation that riddled my body could also be due to lack of sleep. I kept waking in the night once myveninwore off and the nightmares wouldn’t stop plaguing me. The worst part about the nightmares? I remembered every singlefuckingdetail. Each one. Every single night.

I moved the porridge around my plate with fresh berries that Callum had picked earlier this morning, knowing that I liked them right off the vine. This was the first time that Bastian had cooked for us without me having to intervene and force him to comply. I was glad that I didn’t have to threaten him so early in the morning. I truly didn’t have the energy.

I had checked on Emilia earlier and she was still asleep, which was worrisome. I had hoped to talk to her last night, but Icouldn’t think of waking her until her body deemed her well enough to wake.

I lifted a small spoonful to my lips and nibbled at it. It tasted divine, but I just wasn’t hungry, though I wouldn’t tell him that. My appetite was nonexistent from the nightmare.

Sighing, I stood up from the table and left without a word.

Wake up.Check.

Eat.Check.

I spent the rest of the morning with my hands in the soil of the greenhouse, lost in my own thoughts. A pinch of regret lingered. I shouldn't have let him touch me, let him see that there was a softness in me. How would he try to use it against me moving forward? Again, I thought about killing him, how burying them both in the dirt would save me all the trouble.

You’d be no better than your father.

I started to yell at Circe, but it wasn’t her in my head this time, just me. My consciousness, somehow alive after all this time.

Garden.Check.

By the time I emerged from the greenhouse, I could tell that the sun had made its way far across the sky. I had been in the greenhouse longer than originally planned. No matter.

I began to head over to the library, wondering how much Soren had cleaned, and wanting to return to a little bit of normalcy since yesterday's events. I crossed my hands behind my back as I made my way there. The door was ajar and a strange noise came from the other side of it. I opened it slowly and saw something that made me pause.

Soren was on his hands and knees, covered in sweat from head to toe, making a noise that could only be described as a mix between grunting and cursing.

“Scholar, you’re not being very kind with your words.”

He jumped the moment I spoke, knocking over the pail full of water, soaking my bare feet and his clothes even more. So lost in his own mind that he didn’t hear me enter.

He clutched his heart. “Your grace.”

“Scared you, did I?”

He replied, “I didn’t hear you.”

“Clearly.”

I looked around the room and saw puddles of water in various sections on the ground. The shelves were patchy with areas still covered in dust. I walked over to the fireplace and picked up a vase made of brass, full of fingerprints.

“I had no idea that one person could make a space that was already moderately clean, dirty again.”

“As I told you—”

“Just because you’re a scholar doesn’t mean that you can’t be good at other things. Even someone as smart as you knows that.”

“It is not expected of men to take part in cleaning the home. So there was never an opportunity for me to learn.”

“Your poor mother,” I muttered. “Everything was left to her, then?”

He thought about it, longer than I expected. “I suppose it was.”

“Well, I am not your mother. Until I find use for your knowledge, your hands will find use.”

I walked to one of the bookshelves. “And what do you think of the library?”

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