"Did they have an argument that day when he went out with her?" Zayden asked, watching as Angela dropped the arrow on the stool.
"Not that I can remember." She rubbed her arms, feeling goosebumps rise on her skin. She hadn't worn a coat or robe.
"You're cold. Let's get inside," he said. He would have offered her his coat if he were wearing one.
"Okay." Angela agreed, and they walked toward the stairs, Zayden trailing behind her. She discarded her cigarette before leaving the yard.
The lady and her bodyguard stepped into the mansion, and she released her arms. The candles were all lit, casting a warm glow throughout the space. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if they would continue the conversation they had started outside.
They had just reached the staircase inside when they noticed Zara descending. "I wonder what you were doing outside so late at night with your bodyguard, Angie." The nickname sounded nauseating coming from Zara, and Angela almost gagged. "It really has me curious, dear sister." Only God knew that if Zara weren't the firstborn, Angela would have pummeled her, even if that was against all the rules. Zara stopped just one step above where Angela stood with Zayden. Her eyes flicked to the man, who stared back at her, making her blush slightly before she shifted her gaze back to Angela.
"I was practicing my archery, as I do every night, Zara. I don't see why you're questioning me." Angela sighed. She just wanted her bed, not a confrontation with someone who checked off most of the qualities of a budding psychopath.
Zara's brow furrowed into a sharp V. "Did you smoke, Angela?"
Angela's eyes widened, and her heart pounded. Had Zara smelled it on her? They were standing close enough for it to be possible. Damn! She had completely forgotten about that, and she had spoken to Zara at such a close distance. This devil! "I didn't," Angela denied.
"Oh, I think you did." A sinister smile curved Zara's lips. "Father despises smokers, Angela. That was the one rule."
"I said I didn't smoke." Angela glared at her, her voice wavering the slightest bit. Denying it was pointless, but she tried anyway. If her father found out, she'd be grounded. And grounding Angela meant not even setting foot outside the mansion. It was that severe.
"You reek of smoke, Angela. Still denying it?"
"I reek of smoke." Angela turned sharply to Zayden, who had just spoken, and Zara's eyes followed her gaze. "Lady Angela didn't smoke; the smell is coming from me," he said calmly, then bowed his head, making Angela's eyes widen. "Forgive my reckless behavior and for almost putting you in danger, Milady." Zara thought the apology was directed at her, but if she had looked closer and listened carefully—which she didn't—she would have realized it was meant for Angela.
"Of course. Apology accepted." Her voice turned sweet and coquettish, and Angela scoffed before turning away. "You should go to bed, Angela. You're wearing out your bodyguard." She waved at Zayden, who didn't bother to acknowledge her as she left.
Zayden and Angela continued up the staircase until they reached the door to her room. His room was adjacent to hers; her father had arranged it that way. "Goodnight, then. And thank you for what you did down there," she said, turning to him.
"Mm." He nodded. "Goodnight, Princess."
Angela hadn't figured out why he called her 'Princess,' but she didn't dwell on it. "Okay." She nodded, turned her back to him, and entered her room.
Zayden heard the click of her door locking and walked to his own room, stepping inside. He stood before his wardrobe and unbuttoned his white shirt, revealing the Lichtenberg figure on his back and arms—a red, fern-like pattern etched into his skin as a mark of being struck by lightning.
He pulled a black shirt from the wardrobe, put it on, and slipped into a coat. He hadn't removed his shoes. Zayden moved to the window beside his bed, a square one without bars. He opened it, letting the chilly autumn air flow in. He glanced down; the drop from his room to the ground wasn't much, and he jumped down with the agility of a black-clad shadow. He might as well have shape-shifted into a cat, though he was no cat.
Zayden walked through the backyard to the front gate, where he found the gateman dozing on his post instead of keeping watch. Leaping over the gate, he landed silently outside and made his way to the left, disappearing into the night.
He reappeared before his uncle, who stood on a balcony, leaning against the rail. "I'm starting to fear your abilities. Even I can't teleport that fast," Zayden's uncle muttered.
"It's been a while, Uncle." Zayden walked over, facing the elf.
"Tch, are you a child?" His uncle scoffed. "It's only been a month and a half, maybe, as we're already on the twentieth." Zayden scoffed at his uncle's words, and the latter chuckled. "How have you been, son?"