The day only got worse when it was time to sleep, and Enid realized with a sinking heart that she was expected to share the same bed with him. A cold dread seized her. "I would sleep on the floor," she offered, her voice a fragile thread of hope. "I would be fine there, truly."
His response was immediate and icy, a stark contrast to her trembling plea. "I said not to hesitate or complain." The finality in his tone made her clamp her mouth shut, the words dying in her throat. She really wanted to cry again, a fresh wave of despair welling up, but she bit her lip so hard she tasted the metallic tang of blood, using the sharp pain to anchor herself, to stop the tears from falling.
"Don't worry, I won't touch you," he said, his voice laced with a cold, dismissive amusement. "You might snap into two if I do." The comment was so callous that she didn't know whether to cry harder or be pathetically grateful for the small mercy. Sniffling, she slipped into the far side of the bed, already changed into a simple cotton nightdress that was initially in the room. She felt the immense weight of him dip the mattress deeply beside her, and she trembled so badly her teeth nearly chattered. She curled herself into the smallest possible ball, claiming a sliver of the bedsheet and a tiny part of the bed, as if by taking up less space she could somehow disappear.
He looked at the tense, coiled line of her back, and without a word, he turned and closed his eyes. Enid didn't even know when she succumbed to sleep; she was simply too exhausted, too utterly drained from the ordeal of the day. It had been a relentless cascade of events upon events, of crying upon crying, and those spent tears were finally enough to pull her into a heavy, dreamless oblivion.
Only when Ezra heard her soft, even snore did he open his eyes and he turned to face her. He let out a long, soft sigh that seemed to carry the weight of ages, a sound so pure and unbelievable. "You are still the same Saedra," he whispered into the quiet room, his voice barely a breath. "Still the same." With a tenderness that contradicted his chill he gently straightened her cramped sleeping position, arranging the pillows until she was comfortable, her features softening in true sleep. A profound sadness flickered in his gaze. "It's good you don't remember anything from then. So be a good girl," he murmured, his thumb brushing a stray hair from her cheek, "and don't run this time."
As he spoke, a soft, white halo of light emanated from her back and gently surrounded her. In its glow, her innate powers subtly swelled, growing stronger, steadier, as if being gently stoked from embers into a steady flame. He laid back down, holding her hand, his presence a silent anchor until the luminous halo slowly receded back into her skin. Only then did he pull her carefully into the circle of his arms, drawing her against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, taking in her scent in deep, hungry breaths, as a man dying of thirst would drink from a spring. "Don't run again," he pleaded, his voice raw and almost desperate against the silence of the night, a stark confession of a vulnerability he would never show on a normal day or to anyone.
Enid was woken the following morning by the sound of Sarah humming a cheerful tune. She sat up immediately, disoriented. For some odd reason she dreamt Ezra had hugged her to sleep, such terrifying dream. Sarah noticed the movement and turned, her smile as bright as the morning sun streaming through the windows. "Good morning, sunshine! You look even cuter this morning."
Enid's eyes darted around the room, scanning the empty space beside her in the large bed as if to confirm Ezra was truly gone. "The Lord is gone," Sarah said, following her gaze, her tone matter-of-fact. "He's waiting for you for breakfast."
"Breakfast?" Enid's voice was small and trembling. "I thought... I would eat here." The hope of a solitary meal, a moment of peace, was a desperate one.
Sarah looked genuinely aghast at the suggestion. "Why would you eat in the bedroom? That is very improper."
Enid wanted to remind her that she had done exactly that the previous day, that the rules of this place seemed to shift with the wind, but Sarah didn't let her speak. She clicked her tongue and went straight to the bathroom, her smile never dimming. After a long steaming bath, she dressed Enid in a flowing gown of nature green, its fabric rich and cool against her skin then gushed at her lower beauty and finally she firmly led Enid out of the room and down the eery corridors towards the dining area.
But Just like the day before, Sarah's journey had a limit. The farther they walked toward what Enid presumed was the dining area, the more the air grew heavy and oppressive. Sarah's steps slowed, her cheerful aura ceasing. A faint sheen of perspiration appeared on her brow. She stopped well short of their destination, a hint of strain in her smile.
"Just straight down this hall, dear. You can't miss it," she said, her voice slightly tight.
The realization dawned on Enid with cold clarity: Sarah couldn't get close to wherever Ezra was. The maid's cheerful familiarity with the castle's lord was a facade; she had likely never even been in the same room with him. Her entire knowledge of him was built on stories and fear, just like everyone else's. With a final, encouraging but pained smile, Sarah turned and hurried back the way they came just like the previous day, leaving Enid alone to face the gauntlet of shadow guards and the chilling unknown of a breakfast with a devil.