Treasured by the Dragon

Ch 16: Forgiveness

I stay in my room for the rest of the day and refuse food. I try to sleep, but the tears keep waking me up.

What am I even doing? What do I have left for me?

The morning doesn't come with answers. I'm as lost and empty as before, but now I'm also restless. Sleep isn't interested in me right now and, frankly, I'm not interested in it either.

Sleep is too quiet, and that means my doubts have plenty of room to fill in the silence.

Work, though, is a fantastic way to drown it all out.

With four dragons still patrolling the border, five off to trade the furs, and one stuck in bed, there are only eleven pairs of hands to keep the castle running.

Having grown up a princess, my concept of chores was attending balls and making nice with foreign dignitaries. It will be a steep learning curve, but I'd rather be useful than sulking in my room. It's not like Cephias is going to be up and about to see me in the hallway.

Of course, he may have told the others to keep me behind a locked door again.

When Jennit comes to drop off breakfast, I ask if I can come down and help with what's needed. She cocks her head and studies me for a moment, but tells me I can do as I please.

Either Cephias hasn't expressed his disappointment in me to the others, or she doesn't care when there's so much work to be done. Whatever the reason, I decide to make myself useful.

Or I'll at least try to be useful.

By the end of the day, I think I've done more harm than good helping around the castle. However, I pick up the rhythm quickly, and over the next few days, I become a part of the machine.

At night, I consider taking up beside Cephias again. Word is he's still sleeping more than not. Perhaps I could serve my vigil without him noticing. However, the fierce resentment in his words still echoes in my thoughts, and I can't stomach a second round.

So instead, I spend my evenings constructing the cup that may never end up in Cephias's hand.

The first lump of clay Gatteo delivered was just enough to make something taller than a teacup, but shorter than a glass. I was happy with my craftsmanship, given I don't have a pottery wheel to work with. However, it felt like it needed more.

When Gatteo brought a larger lump the next day without me even asking, I took that as a sign that I had more work to do. So I began fashioning a dragon encircling my creation—a dragon that looks strikingly like a certain orange beast.

Tonight, I'm fashioning the wings, which will arch out with the curve of the cup so it doesn't make it awkward to hold.

A knock at the door sends a jolt of surprise through my focused frame, causing my hand to pinch the wingtip into a thin sheet.

"Who is it?" I call out with a resigned sigh in my voice.

"Miss—I mean, Taliyah—it's Jennit. My lord is asking for you."

"He is?"

Fear coats my cheeks and I wonder if I'm due for another tongue lashing now that he's had time to heal. Will he tell me he's decided on some form of punishment? Will he revoke my freedom and place me in a real prison cell?

"Yes, mis—Taliyah. He asks that you come up at your earliest convenience."

"My earliest convenience?"

I whisper the question to myself to see if the words make more sense when I say them. But they still feel strange to my ears. Last time we talked, it sounded like he'd be glad to bring me misery in any way he can.