The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4)(128)

Jala had given her a beautiful room with wide windows overlooking the gardens and more space than she would ever use, but the room Seth had given her was different. It was smaller with a cozy feel to it that reminded her of Dominic’s house. The bed and the dresser were both carved with delicate patterns of flowers and the blue and white quilts were worn and soft. The room in Merro was perfect and pristine, but the room Seth had given her was filled with love and warmth.

Her eyes lingered on the chair in the center of the room and she frowned. It didn’t matter how many times she moved it over by the table it was always in the center of the room when she woke. It was the only thing that annoyed her about the room. With a yawn she stretched and pushed the chair over by the table once more. Her eyes lingered on the floor where it had been. The wood was stained badly in the center of the room and every time she noticed it, she made a mental note to clean it, but then the day would unfold and she would be so distracted with Seth’s lessons that she forgot entirely. With a sigh, she once again made a mental note to clean the stain, and turned toward the door to find Seth. She could usually hear him moving about when she awoke. It was strange for the rooms beyond to be so silent.

Eyes still on the door, she dressed as quickly and quietly as she could before creeping into the next room. The entry hall was dark aside from a faint flicker of lamplight shining beneath the door from the hall sconces. She paused in the doorway, giving her eyes a moment to adjust, and then scanned the room. A dark shape was barely visible by the far wall.

“I didn’t expect you to wake so early.” Seth’s voice was barely a whisper in the darkness and she almost jumped at the sound of it. She had never actually seen him sleep and until he spoke she had thought the dark form was simply something he had discarded by the wall.

“I thought you had your own rooms to sleep in. Why are you in here?” Zoelyn mumbled as she moved closer to where he rested.

He inhaled deeply as he sat up and stretched and she paused once more. Every time she had seen Seth he was wearing his black armor and feathered cloak. She had never caught him resting before, though, and he was bare to the waist. With a yawn, Seth rose from his pallet and shrugged at her.

“Even when you aren’t here, I don’t sleep in that room, so don’t feel bad about it,” he said in the same low voice and rubbed his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you, Seth. You can go back to sleep,” Zoelyn began hesitantly but Seth cut her off with a dismissive wave.

“I don’t like sleep any more than I like that room, so don’t worry about that either,” he explained with a grin. “To sleep is to dream and it’s been quite some time since I had a dream that was worth remembering.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment and he shook his head as if clearing an unpleasant thought. “Breakfast or training? How would you prefer to start the day?” he asked in a more cheerful voice.

“Training, I suppose, though I still don’t like the fact that I woke you up,” Zoelyn replied softly. It was hard not to wonder what had crossed his mind while he watched her, but she knew Seth well enough to not ask. He would answer her of course, but it would likely be an answer that only held partial truth. He tended to be vague on topics that he didn’t choose himself.

“In that case, if we make progress this morning, I have a surprise for you this afternoon,” Seth agreed with a smile and moved to the small table beside the door. “Fresh mage stones,” he informed her as he tossed her the bag. “A surprise?” Zoelyn asked slowly and raised an eyebrow.

“Which will stay a surprise for now,” he replied with a smile and waved a hand at the bag she held. “Impress me, Zoey,” he added as he stretched once more and picked his leather tunic up from the floor.

She watched him in silence as he pulled the armor on. His back and sides were lined with faint white scars and she had been silently trying to count them. The tally had reached thirty before he picked up the armor, then thirty-five as he pulled the shirt on, and there had been countless more that she had missed.

All warriors had scars. She knew that well enough, but not all of Seth’s looked to be battle wounds. He never spoke about his past and now she knew why. His scars spoke of a very brutal life, and by the number of marks she didn’t have to ask why he avoided dreams. Dominic told her once that dreams were often figments of memories or aspirations for the future. For Seth, neither could be pleasant. His past was written in pain across his body, and what future could he possibly have to hope for. He was trapped in hell with no end of his penance in sight.