The stairs were too soft.
I know that sounds dumb since they were made of stone, something hard. But they were smooth in a way that made me walk slower. Like they were used to carrying people who mattered, people who were royals. Not girls with bruises under their sleeves and dried blood behind their ears.
I kept my eyes on the floor, one hand on the rail as I made my way down. My legs were still sore. My wrist still stung. I kept expecting to feel pain when I stepped down, but the ache was dull now. Manageable. I’ve felt worse. And it scared me how easy it was to forget how much worse it had been.
At the bottom of the stairs, Xaden was waiting.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked up as I appeared, arms loosely folded, leaning back like he’d been there a while and didn’t mind.
His eyes moved over me, once. Not in a creepy way. Not like I was something on display. More like he was making sure I hadn’t cracked somewhere while no one was looking. No one has looked at me with so much concern.
“You made it out of bed,” he said finally.
I nodded, then added, “The bed tried to keep me. I barely escaped.”
That tugged a real smile out of him.
Not a smirk. Not that half-amused thing he usually did.
A real smile.
And I hated how nice it looked on him. I hated how attracted I was to his smile.
The sharpness in his jaw softened when he smiled. His eyes got this small crinkle at the corners, and the scar near his eyebrow pulled just slightly. I’d never noticed it before. Not like this.
He looked better when he wasn’t trying to act like he didn’t care.
“Ready for the grand tour?” he asked.
I tilted my head. “That depends. Are there going to be boring history lessons?”
“I’ll skip the parts about dead kings if you promise not to mock my pacing.”
“I make no promises.”
He smirked again, closer to the version I was used to, and turned toward the hallway.
We walked side by side, the way people do when they’re still figuring out how to move near each other. Not touching. Not brushing shoulders. But not distant either.
The castle was enormous, but I kept my focus narrow. The paintings on the walls, the golden lanterns hanging from carved brackets, the rugs that actually looked soft enough to sit on. Everything looked clean, polished, like it had always belonged to someone important.
I didn’t talk much. Xaden did. Just enough to keep things from being silent. He pointed out rooms, names I barely remembered, stories I didn’t ask for but didn’t mind hearing. Some of it was nonsense. I could tell. Like when he said one hallway was haunted by a bard who sang off-key and now cursed all out-of-tune instruments.
I gave him a look. “You’re making that up.”
He raised both hands. “You can check the library.”
I didn’t realize I was smiling until I saw his glance sideways.
We passed a room with tall windows and rows of glass cases. I paused outside the doorway. Inside were old swords, broken armor, a faded blue cloak hanging behind thick glass like it meant something.
“Battle gallery,” Xaden said beside me. “Or as the nobles call it—‘The Hall of Honor.’” He did the air quotes with one brow raised.
“You don’t sound impressed.”
“I’m not great at being impressed.”
I stepped inside. My feet echoed quietly across the polished floor. I ran my fingers lightly over the glass case near the front. The cloak had a rip through one sleeve and dried blood along the bottom hem.
I wondered if the person it belonged to ever had a room like the one I’d woken up in. A warm bed. A tray of food. Someone who brushed their hair without pulling.
When I turned back, Xaden was still standing at the doorway.
Just watching me.
And when I met his eyes, he didn’t look away.
That was the part I didn’t understand.
How he could look at me like that. Like I wasn’t ruined. Like he hadn’t seen the mess I’d been when I collapsed in front of him.
I cleared my throat. “What’s next? Secret dungeons? Vampire ballroom?”
He grinned. “Tempting. But I was thinking something quieter.”
We ended up in a smaller room with a low ceiling and a long wooden table. There was a fire already going, casting shadows along the walls. It didn’t feel like a dining hall. More like a place someone actually lived in.
“This is where I eat,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I figured you’d prefer something low-key.”
I sat down without waiting for an invitation. My legs were still stiff, and I wasn’t about to play polite when every part of me wanted to collapse.
A servant brought food, simple stuff but not what a slave would eat. Roasted meat, vegetables, soft bread that steamed when it tore open.
My stomach growled loud enough for both of us to hear.
Xaden raised an eyebrow. “You could’ve just said you were hungry.”
“I was trying to be mysterious.”
“Didn’t work.”
We ate quietly for a while. I kept catching him watching me—not staring, not creepy, just… noticing. Like he was trying to memorize something.
I tried not to let it get to me. But it did.
Because I was noticing things too.
The way his hands were calloused, even though he wore all this rich, royal clothing. The faint mark on his jaw like someone had cut him years ago and the scar had never fully healed. The way he tapped his thumb against the side of his plate when he was thinking.
And the way he smiled.
God, he really shouldn’t smile like that.
“You keep looking at me like I’m about to vanish,” I said quietly.
He stopped mid-bite. Set his fork down. “That’s because you almost did. Twice.”
I looked away.
He didn’t push. Just leaned back in his chair a little, arms crossed loosely. “I know you don’t trust me yet. That’s fine. I wouldn’t trust me either.”
“That’s comforting.”
He smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time.
“I just want you to know,” he said, “I’m not expecting anything. Not from you. You don’t owe me anything for being here.”
I stared at him. He didn't seem normal, he was different, different from the others in the park house.
No lies. No acting.
Just him. Just me.
And a feeling I wasn’t ready to name.
Not yet.
But it was there.
And it was growing.
