"Oh. I thought you did; I mean, you told me about God," she shrugged, returning her gaze to the glasses.
"I told you to pray; I didn't say I believed in God," he replied, dropping the glass onto the counter, the sound drawing Angela's attention.
"How will you get married, then? One must be wed in a church," she mused. Amusement danced in Zayden's amethyst eyes as he listened to her ramble on.
"How I would and should get married is of no concern to you, princess." He smirked, tilting his head as she looked up at him.
Angela pursed her lips, staring into his eyes—amethyst against ocean, each daring the other to falter. Ultimately, the ocean did. "Thank you for everything that has transpired; I may sleep better now." She rose from the chair, and he leaned away from the counter. "It was nice conversing with you," she added.
"It was." He nodded, and they ascended back to Angela's chamber in silence.
As Angela approached her door, Zayden trailed behind her, and she paused, her hand poised above the doorknob. "Will you retire for the night?"
Zayden smiled, well aware of her underlying inquiry. "I shall remain outside your door, princess. Goodnight, and may you contend with your demons well." He mentally chastised himself. Really? Contend with her demons?
Angela smiled and nodded. "Good smoke out here," she remarked, noticing his lips quirk upward before she stepped inside her room.
Zayden extinguished the cigarette he had been smoking, discarding the remnants into the waste bin in the passageway. He retrieved another from his pocket, produced a matchbox, and lit it. Placing it between his lips, he took a long drag. "Goodnight, Mama. Goodnight, Papa." He slid down to the floor, closed his eyes, and succumbed to the depths of his most horrid nightmares.
***
"Mm!" Angela stretched her arms as she awakened, still lying in her bed and gazing up at the plain pink ceiling. She blinked twice, her mind concluding that this had been the best sleep she had ever known.
Her room was adorned in an aesthetically pleasing palette of pink and cream. Delicate, artificial creepers intertwined with flowers embellished the walls. Rising from her bed, she straightened the sheets and entered the bathing chamber to freshen up. She had no personal maids, nor did she desire any. Her father was neither a king nor a duke, merely a nobleman of modest means, navigating life as a human in a world filled with elves, vampires, and werewolves. Her father had asserted that witches were but a myth; yet, Angela believed otherwise—and she knew they existed.
Dressing herself in a white, sleeveless sundress adorned with floral patterns, she donned a lightweight, long-sleeved robe before slipping on her sandals. She left her chamber to find Zayden standing against the wall where she had first encountered him. "Good morning," she greeted him with a radiant smile. After their conversation in the kitchen, she had taken his advice to heart and prayed before returning to bed. She had not suffered from sleep paralysis that night and had enjoyed a deep slumber.
"Good morning, princess. How did you sleep?" he asked, attired as he had been the previous day, his hair neatly tied back. He wore the standard white shirt and black trousers typical of bodyguards, complemented by polished black shoes. The absence of his diamond stud revealed his unadorned pointed ears.
"I slept well," she replied, shrugging as she walked past him. "Let us greet my father."
As they passed, a few maidservants offered their greetings, which Angela returned with warm acknowledgment. Zayden noted how she made an effort to ensure they were well-rested, engaging in light conversation with some. Upon reaching her father's chamber, she knocked gently before opening the door. Zayden positioned himself by the entrance while Angela ventured further inside, taking a seat upon a plush brown settee, allowing her to observe the married couple closely. Henry was seated on the couch, clad in a loose, untied black robe and black trousers, while Angela's stepmother, Jane, with her striking red hair, was seated beside him, absently toying with his brown beard. Angela recoiled internally, while Zayden maintained an expression of impassivity.
"Good morning to you, Father. Good morning, Mother," Angela greeted, a tight smile gracing her lips as she addressed her stepmother.
"Oh, sweetling, a lovely morning to you as well," Jane replied with an overly sweet smile. "Did you rest well?"
Angela had rarely enjoyed a good night's sleep—save for the previous evening—but she chose not to disclose that to Jane. "I did. And you?" She transformed her tight smile into a knowing smirk.
"Of course, I did," Jane giggled, eliciting an almost instinctive eye roll from Angela.
"How do you fare this morning, Angela?" Henry inquired, diverting his gaze from Jane to his blonde-haired daughter.
"I am well, thank you for asking, Father. And how are you, yourself?" she responded, her smirk unwavering.
"Oh dear. Father has slept well, thus I am in fine spirits. Breakfast should be prepared." He turned his attention to Zayden, who held his gaze unflinchingly. Zayden bowed slightly, and Henry returned the gesture with a curt nod.
"Father, I wish to visit my mother's parents—my grandparents," Angela stated, her expression neither soft nor harsh. She noticed her stepmother's teeth grit together, and Henry sighed heavily. The last time she had visited her grandparents was at the tender age of ten, when her parents had believed her lost and gone to pay their respects. She had accompanied them along with her stepsister.
"Very well. You may go after breakfast, and you shall take your bodyguard with you." He cast a glance at Zayden, who continued to meet his stare without flinching.