There has been no word of my sister, so I feel it is safe for me to assume that she and Lady Elana have successfully escaped.

When Sebastian said my name, I thought I felt a strange flutter in my stomach. It was the way he said it. He sounded desperate and sincere and for a moment I could not believe I almost took his life. But there is a new understanding between us—one that I did not dare expect. Most of what I feel for him though, is pity. I can only imagine what it is like to have a mother like his, and the scar he has to live with. I wanted to ask him how he got it or whether he was born with it. But such a topic is hardly made for garden conversation.

Without my weapons, I feel thoroughly naked and exposed and uncomfortable. To know that I have no protection weighs heavily on my mind, but I realise that I cannot escape the castle just yet. Not until I know that happened to my mother. Not until I know who took her from me, Melia and Papa. I have to find out. I must.

The Queen has not spoken to me yet, but everywhere I turn, Laila is standing or sitting there. She even sleeps in my room. I manage, however, to swipe two pieces parchment and ink before excusing myself to use the facilities, where she absolutely cannot follow me.

Inside, I quickly write down a letter, explaining that I am safe, and asking whether Lady Elana and Melia have gotten back safe as well as news of our kingdom. I think of Nesto and his father and my stomach churns. His father was in cahoots with the Queen, and if she finds out that it was me who killed them, then what is stopping her from killing me? She does not seem like the sort of woman who is particularly frightened about sparking a war. She seems far too sure of herself. For a moment, it even reminds me of myself and makes me shudder.

I also write a short not for Sebastian.

The only thing I have to do now is find the maid who let us in. If she can deliver this letter to Toria, then Toria can somehow get the message to Lady Elana. I realise that I cannot ask Sebastian for help. We might have some common understanding, but he still holding me captive. I resolve to sneaking out whilst Laila is sleeping. And although there may be guards, the castle is riddled with doors adjoining to different rooms, and I have enough time to come up with a strategy.

When I walk out, with the letter stuffed into my dress, Laila is standing in front of me. 'Oh god,' I mutter, 'you didn't have to wait outside, Laila. I'm not going to run away.'

'I have strict orders, my lady,' she says, 'was told not to leave you for very long and shouldn't have left you with the prince, absolutely not.'

I smile at her, 'well I'm hardly going to harm him, am I?'

'You almost killed him, my lady.'

'Yes,' I snapped, 'and I wish people would stop bringing that dreadful thing up.'

Laila opens her mouth to protest that she meant no offence, but it comes out as a nervous jumble of words.

'Laila, are you carrying weapons on you?' I ask

'A blade, my lady,' she says pointedly, 'ju-just in case, of course.'

I frown, 'you would you use it on me?'

Laila takes a moment to think about it, 'well I wouldn't like to of course, my lady, but I'm under strict orders, you know.'

'Very well,' I smile slightly, linking arms with her, 'but do you think I could have an audience with the prince? Of course, you would be there. But I would love to speak to him again.'

'W-well I'm not very sure about that, my lady. You see, the prince liked to spend most of his time alone. He can sometimes have quite the temper—oh no, I should be saying nothing of this sort. It's treason.'

We pause in the middle of hallway and she puts a hand over her mouth as if she has sinned. I take it down from her face, 'pull yourself together, Laila,' I say, 'you're describing his personality. It's fact, not an opinion. And therefore, it is not treason. Besides, how could that ever bring harm to him?'

Pressing her mouth into a line, Laila sighs and nods. Her eyebrows knit tightly together. 'I suppose you are right, my lady.'

'I always am!'

She blinks at me.

'Well, usually,' I snap, 'now will you take me to him? Or will I have to drag you there with me?'

'He'll be in his library,' Laila says, looking towards the stairs, 'he's always in there.'

I almost laugh, 'he has his own library?'

'Yes, my lady, he does. Shall I take you?'

'You may.'

I looked up at the closed doors of his library. The polished wooden doors are carved intricately and I run my hands over them before knocking. Beside me, Laila shuffles uncomfortably and then she begins to bite her nails—a habit I'd learned she could not break.

'He might not want to see you,' Laila says, 'he hates being interrupted when he is reading.'

'Well he will have to make an exception,' I say, staring at the door.

We wait a few seconds and I begin to tap the floor with my foot impatiently.

The door opens and Sebastian looks at my foot, 'please stop doing that, it'll give me a headache.'

'Charming, as ever.'

Sebastian is wearing very casual clothes. A loose white cotton shirt and dark trousers. In his hand, he is holding that book again. His facial defect looks very pink because of the heat, and the dark vein-y lines inside of it are clearer. For a moment, I just look at the way they trail down to his chest. I can see them through his shirt, and they stop at his heart.

He smiles, though it is humourless. 'Is there something you want, Bel?' he asks, not unkindly. He says my name as if he knows me completely and utterly.

'To talk to you.'

'Why?' he frowns.

'Why not?'

I keep my gaze fixed on him.

He looks back into his library and then back at me before sighing resignedly. Reluctantly, he steps aside, and opens the door for Laila and I, and we walk inside.

Sebastian's library is huge and dark. It is circular, and the in the middle, it is furnished with dark chairs and tables. Surrounding it, there are steps which lead to the wall to ceiling shelves of books, and there is a ladder leading to a balcony which goes all around the library. The big window is curtained.

'You should really let some light in here,' I say, stepping down into the furnished area of his library.

'I'd rather not,' he says from behind as he shuts the door.

I turn around to face him, 'it's quite a place you have here. I haven't seen anything like it.'

Sebastian avoids my gaze, and looks at his feet. 'I—thank-you,' he mumbles.

'Did you design it?'

'I had help,' he says, stepping down to join us in the middle. He passes by me, and his shoulder brushes mine.

'W-would you like me to order some tea for you?' he asks, still avoiding having to look at me, 'or would you—

'I'm perfectly fine, thank-you,' I smile, 'though; you could open up those curtains a bit more. I can scarcely see you in this dark.'

Finally, he looks at me, but there's a hint of anxiety in his eyes—like pleading.

'Or we could just stay in the dark,' I quickly say.

Sebastian's shoulders drop a little as his built up tension releases. For a long moment, he looks at me with an expression resembling gratefulness. He even smiles, but it gone by the time I blink.

'What did you want to talk about?' Sebastian asks. His grip around his book is tighter.

'Sorry if I've disturbed you from reading,' I say, stepping closer to him, 'I just wanted to see how you were.'

Sebastian blinks, and confusion enters his features. 'You wanted to see...how I was?'

'Yes,' I say, moving forward and up the steps towards his bookshelf. I turn around to him and fix him a smile, 'come on, then.' And he follows me.

Laila stands in the middle, looking around the library. She'd never been in it before and so is probably taking in as much detail as she can. Perhaps to report back to the queen, whose name I have just found out, is Eliza. It stuns me that I did not know it before. People only ever called her the Queen of Lores and nothing else.

Both of us face the bookshelf, and I trail my fingers across the spines. Sebastian silently watches me. When I look at him, he looks away and I see his temples moving tensely as he gulps. He's adorable.

Strange, but adorable.

'You really do love to read, don't you?'

He nods slightly. 'Don't you?'

'I prefer music,' I say, 'I adore music. It's poetry without words.'

There is a faint smile etched on his face, 'you definitely have a way with words.' He pauses. 'Do you play an instrument?'

I face him and I'm struck by his green eyes. 'The violin,' I say, 'I used to play together with my mother. She played the Cello.'

'Do you still play?'

My chest feels heavy. 'Sometimes,' I say quietly. The way he looks at me makes my heart thrum, so I turn away.

'I-I apologise if I have offended you,' he says, stepping closer. I can hear his breath and the book that he keeps fiddling with in his hands.

'Sebastian, what is in that book?' I ask, 'you're never without it.'

'It's poetry,' he says, 'but this kind has words.'

I can't help but smile. He cannot see, though, thank god.

'Read me something,' I say to him.

'Is that a demand?'

'Yes...'

He breathes a laugh and opens the book. I hear the spine crack, and then I hear his voice.

Give me life or give me death

I will kiss with every breath

And if the devils cast me out

I will pray with all my doubt

That if you sinners cast your stones

God won't be there to melt thy bones

Yet if I chose the power

Which lies all above

I would not choose god

I would choose love

I feel him tensing up beside me.

My heart stops.

He shuts the book.

I let out a short breath.

'That was—' I am lost for words, 'blasphemous. Blasphemous and...terrible in a passionate kind of way.'

I am sure he is smiling.

'Poetry usually is,' he says softly.

I reach into the bust of my dress and take out the small folded parchment—the one for Sebastian. I turn around and I hold his hand in mine. It's soft and warm. He blinks at me, startled.

I squeeze his hand before letting go again.

He opens his mouth, 'I—

'I must leave,' I cut him off, 'thank-you for speaking with me.'

Quickly, I turn around and smile wearily at Laila, who is engrossed in a mathematical instrument. We curtsey to Sebastian before leaving, but he just stares at me, lost for words.

Outside, Laila glances at me and furrows her brow. 'You alright, my lady?' she says, 'only, you look a bit out of breath.'

'I'm fine,' I say.

But then I look back at the closed door of Sebastian's library—and I realise that I am not.