Chapitre 9: Chapter 9: The Garden
Two weeks. I’ve gone two weeks without being summoned by Kaden Sario. I’m not complaining. Strolling around the manor has been pleasant. I spend most of my time in the garden, feeling the rich soil between my toes, smelling the petals of flowers, and touching the leaves of greener-than-green tress.
There aren’t any flowers in the Unfortunate camp. There’s nothing but mud and dirt. I push my tongue against the roof of my mouth, somehow tasting the smell of the pungent mud in the back of my throat.
“Hey!”
I startle, yanking a handful of leaves from the thin stem of a bush I’m caressing. A female Unfortunate jogs toward me, her curls bouncing around her shoulders, the sun gleaming against her gorgeous sun-kissed skin. I drop the handful of leaves and smooth my hand down my tunic, ridding my palm of sticky sap.
“You shouldn’t spend so much time in the garden. You won’t hear Master Kade if he calls for you.”
I recognise her from the party after the ceremony. She poured Kade’s drink while I retrieved towels to clean up the mess I made.
“Nine, right?” She places her hand on her brow bone, shielding the sun from her face, and smiles, exposing a perfect set of white teeth. I nod. “I’m Portia.”
I frown. “Portia?”
Dropping her hand, she steps forward and hooks her arm around mine. I let her pull me along the smooth, concrete stepping stones and through the breathtaking garden toward the looming Sario manor. I fight the urge to dig my heels in. The last two weeks have been a dream. Left to my own devices, within the boundaries of Sario property, I’ve lived a life I never thought possible. I’ve explored and I’ve discovered. I’ve been happy in my little world, submerged in a fantasy where only I exist.
“It’s his birthday today,” Portia wonders aloud, stripping me of the illusion I’ve spent two weeks building. “It’s a special day for him.”
I peer sideways at her, confused by the fond notes in her voice. Her full lips are quirked, her gold irises sparkling with esteem for the aggressive Fortunate. My stomach turns. Does she have romantic feelings for Kaden Sario? She’s a lot older than him, but she’s still female and he, well, he’s virile and commanding. He’s not awful to look at either.
“He’s like a son to me,” she feels the need to clarify. “I’ve been with the Sario’s since the boys were babies.”
“You have?”
She nods. “I was their nanny until they were old enough to look after themselves, then I moved on to other jobs.”
“Where was their mother?”
“Around. She’s been gone a while now.”
Oh. “When you say gone, do you mean—”
A sweep of black fabric in my peripheral catches my attention. The sight of Kade storming out the back door and down the stone path. He moves fast, filling the air with dangerous uncertainty, like a thundercloud. Dread burrows in thick, painful tendrils through my chest as he devours the distance between us. Kade flickers his brittle, coal stare up the length of my torso to my face. Our gazes meet and there’s a sudden chilling whip on the tail end of a zephyr that lashes my skin. Every hair on my body stands on its ends and I shiver. Something shifts in his dark, troubled glare and, as if I’ve suddenly become transparent, he looks right through me. I tense my body and hold my breath as he approaches, his fingers flexing at his sides as if he’s getting ready to reach out and pluck me off my feet. Instead, he storms by without pause. I let out a rush of air, then sip it back, catching earthy wafts of pine and sage that leave my lungs feeling cool. I watch Kade over my shoulder as he marches down the path and become mesmerised by his height, by his broad shoulders, and strong physique. Not many men are built like Kaden Sario. And that terrifies me.
Portia takes me by my wrist and swings her lean frame in front of me, her golden gaze meeting mine, blocking Kade from view. “You look like you’re gonna be sick.”
I pull a face. “I am.”
“What are you worried about?"
"Like you said, it's his birthday..."
I let the fact I was procured as a birthday gift imply itself in the silence growing between us. Portia's lips curve with a gentle smile.
"Nine, you're in capable hands, I assure you. There's no need for concern."
"It's not his hands that concern me."
Her eyelids flutter, and she downcasts her gaze, apparently made uncomfortable by my implication.
"I heard you got through your branding without shedding a tear."
I open my mouth to tell her it's not true, that the blistering pain drew plenty of tears from me, that the scabbing wound still rouses me from sleep.
"If you can survive that, you can survive Kaden Sario," she says.
She means to bring me comfort, but she doesn't. Her words, as heavy as boulders, sink to the bottom of my gut. I don't want to survive. I want to live. The last two weeks of my life have been filled with a simplicity I've never known. I want to spend the rest of my days pandering about a flowering garden, not chained to the post of a Fortunate's bed.
"The look in your eyes is making me nervous," Portia mutters, releasing my wrist to smooth her hand down the front of her tunic.
"Do you ever wonder—"
"No. You don't either."
I step closer, closing the distance between us, in fear of the breeze blowing my words into the wrong ears.
"But I do. I do wonder."
Portia curses, grits her teeth, and snatches the collar of my tunic. I gasp as she yanks me forward and drags me toward the manor.
"Stupid girl," she snaps in a harsh whisper. "You need to banish those thoughts from your head before they bring trouble."
She shoves me back and whirls on her heel. Panic seizes me, and I stumble forward, clasping her shoulder. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"
"Of course not."
"Portia—"
She snaps around to face me. Her golden irises flare, the flames of her fury threatening to burn the flesh from my bones.
"He has worked too hard to claw himself out of the pits of hell, to regain their trust—" She purses her lips, trapping the rest of her sentence behind a fleshy barricade before pushing air out her nose. "Keep your head down, Unfortunate. There are people holding their breath, waiting for him to slip. Mind your manners, watch your tongue, and do as your told. Don't be the reason he loses everything."
"What happened to him?"
Portia straightens, an unwavering pillar of secrecy. "Come. Let's get you fitted for your dress."
I don't fight her. I let her escort me to the Unfortunate quarters, to my little nook. Draped over my bed is a breathtaking red gown, its magnificent skirt hem stretching from one end of my cot to the other. I gasp at the hue. I didn't know fabrics could be so bright.
"Try it on," Portia murmurs, squeezing my bicep. "It may ease your nerves about tonight."
She exits my nook, leaving me alone with a dress I don't know how to put on. I step toward it. Reaching out, I bend my knees and touch the layered, sheer fabric. I pinch it between my fingers and rub it together, then release it. I can’t wear this. The deepening of the red hue from the hips down will ensure my lower regions aren’t on display but there’s no way the bodice will shield my nipples from prying Fortunate eyes.
Recoiling, I yank the dress to the floor and sit on my cot. I glare at the red fabric and my eyes prickle with tears I don’t understand. Why does the meaningless dress offend me so much? I stare at it. I stare at it for hours, it feels like, until the last of the sun's rays slip beyond the horizon and the quiet hum of conversation awakens the manor. I freeze as my heart stops dead. In the distance, lustrous, glassy music plays, signaling the beginning of the party.
And I’m not ready.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone