The outer shell he wore—roguish and suave—had holes enough to glimpse into the veiled worlds beneath. And in those worlds were shadows holding such pain.
He thought he kept it hidden as he studied schematics and blueprints with His Highness, but I saw how he never took his eyes off the way Dina cuddled close to her husband or how the two children leaned together in sibling-bond.
He ached.
It was a physical thing.
He craved.
It was a visible thing.
I saw so much while enjoying the luxury of sitting quiet and undisturbed.
But why did he covet a family when he was a bachelor of his own devices—surrounding himself in water and horizons? Why did he look at children, not as a man who was desperate for his own, but with nostalgia—heralding the ghosts of perhaps a brother or sister he missed.
Despite myself, I thawed toward him.
But I didn’t fully let go of my dislike until the second course of our luncheon. The switch inside me happened when Elder sketched a third amendment to the drawings and laughed real and carefree when the little girl swatted her brother for snapping a crayon and gave her his expensive biro to replace it.
The moment stretched a tad too long; he’d frozen, remembering a different time. He didn’t shutter his eyes enough to hide the agony resounding inside.
He was no longer just Elder. My saviour and captor.
He was so, so much more.
And it hurt because I wanted to know how deep that more went.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one.
Whatever conversation occurred while Dina and I were in the bathroom had stripped Elder down to his bare defences. He no longer had a swagger or solid footing in whatever persona he’d created. He’d suffered a trip down memory lane and somehow left pieces of himself behind when he returned to the present.
I wished I’d been there to listen—a spider in its web, catching the puzzle pieces like fat juicy flies. However, I wouldn’t trade my own bathroom conversation because Dina had done for me what Simo had done for Elder.
She’d woken me up.
Giving into the lull of walking in hot sunshine and enjoying the dusty grit on my feet after too long of being pristine and undirty, I recalled the first chat with a woman in two years.
“How are you enjoying our country, Pim?” Dina escorted me into the bathroom, her eyes warm and kind. The moment the door shut, blocking us from Selix standing guard, I tensed for those eyes to leave mine and lock onto my bruises.
Self-consciousness brought my arms up, wrapping tight around my waist. Did she know what I was? Did she come to the washroom to interrogate me and somehow get Elder into trouble?
For a brief second, I wondered if she might’ve started as a slave to His Royal Highness, but the idea was hilarious as well as preposterous. Anyone could see the love they shared. I certainly could, and Elder definitely could.
He hadn’t taken his gaze off them even when it looked as if he was sketching a quick design.
Being with a man joined only in the worst circumstances of captivity and death, it prickled my skin to be surrounded by a family who cherished each other. They were by far the richest people I’d ever met and not because they were a prince and princess (I think that’s their title being cousins to the crown) but because of what they shared.
No one cherished me.
Or at least…not for the right reasons.
“I must admit, it’s weird to ask questions and not earn a response.” Dina placed her purse on the terracotta-coloured vanity. “Excuse me if I prattle on.”
I smiled and broke yet another of my rules. I shrugged, shaking my head to put her at ease.
I hated how easy such a response was, how freeing communicating could be if I just stopped doubting everyone and began to trust again.
“I’ll be right back.” Dina opened a stall and disappeared.
I followed suit, and after we’d done our business, we smiled at each other in the mirror as we washed our hands in the double sink. The tepid water wasn’t refreshing in such stagnant heat, but at least we were clean.
Fantasies of jumping in the ocean with Elder tonight made the bathroom splutter as if I could step through a veil of time and return to moonlight and salt rather than stay in a bathroom in the middle of the day.
“How long has it been?” Dina flicked remaining droplets off her fingers and reached for a towelette. “Since you’ve talked, I mean?”
I tensed.
I could lift up two fingers and give her an answer. But I wasn’t ready. I shrugged again. I’d already broken that barrier. It was easy to repeat.
“Do you miss it? Being able to converse and demand answers to whatever you’re thinking?”