Lux [h.s]

sixteen

The next day, Cora managed to get to the early afternoon without ever having to worry about meeting Harry. She would've never admitted it if anyone had asked, but being around him worried her now that she'd agreed to working for him. Who even knew what kind of odd things he would ask of her?

"I see you're done hiding away inside Thalia's wagon."

She turned around, her heart skipping a beat. She should've expected him to come around as soon as she got out, but she was still taken by surprise.

They'd paused for about an hour to have lunch and let the horses rest, and she'd been foolish enough to think she would be able to take a breath of fresh air without Harry noticing.

She was wrong.

Ever since she'd agreed to working for him the day before, he'd kept an unusually tight leash on her. She never knew much about him and rarely saw him, but it was no secret that he was somehow aware of every step and every breath she took.

"I was getting bored," Cora replied, giving him a shrug. "When are we getting to the next city?"

He leant on the side of the caravan next to her. If she hadn't been still intimidated by him, she would've debated kissing him again just for the way he looked on that day.

Kissing. She'd pushed that thought so far back into her mind that it freaked her out to remember she'd tasted his lips almost two weeks before. They'd both become incredibly skilled at pretending it'd never happened—but it had. Cora wished it hadn't.

Harry wasn't wearing his coat nor his cloak and went around only in his loose-fitting, cream white shirt with some ruffles on the front tucked into his high-waisted black trousers. Cora didn't know if it was the clothing choice or the colour, but it made him look like royalty. Some kind of fay royalty coming from the woods, but royalty nonetheless.

"We'll arrive in Caloir in four days."

"Lovely." She'd never travelled to other cities before—the simple realisation that she was now days of travel away from Beilyn terrified her to no end.

"Cora?" Harry called her, and she turned to look at him. "On the night we arrive we'll dine at Count Watillon's house. He invited us."

She gave him a suspicious look. "We?"

"Me," he specified, "but you'll come with me, too."

She frowned. Meeting aristocracy was miles away from what she wanted to do—especially considering she'd escaped Count Altair's prisons mere days before. "Why?"

"Because that's your job."

"I'm not sure I like this job. You can take someone else."

Harry sent her a severe glance. "Once again, it wasn't a question. You work for me now, hence you do what I say."

Cora crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you so demanding with everyone else too?"

She needed to draw some boundaries. She couldn't keep being that girl that did everything she was asked without complaining anymore. She'd done that for years, and it'd done nothing but put her in trouble. She needed to shove her head out of the water, before she ended up drowning.

He gave her a dashing smile. "I don't need to. But it's fine, because soon you too will understand how things work at the Fair."

She couldn't decide whether it was a veiled threat or a simple statement before he walked away.

She clenched her teeth and watched him leave, her nails digging into her palms. He was maddening, and she didn't even know how she'd found him so attractive before. He moved with the same certainty of someone that knows every secret of the world, and it might've been childish of her, but she couldn't help finding it unnerving, as if he shouldn't have been able to be so sure of himself while she felt so lost.