“Siri, all things come to an end. Stop thinking about the past,” Grant sighed tiredly and put his hands behind his back. “Come in.”

My eyes were already blurry from exhaustion. We'd decided to spend the whole day doing spy stuff, forging each other's handwriting and then comparing it to find our own, so I was barely on my feet. But I was still standing, so it felt like if I moved, I'd fall, losing ground to gravity.

But an attack of morning confusion decided to give me an encore, and as soon as I looked up at the bed, my throat tightened with embarrassment and shame.

“Why don't we go to the children's room? There's a bunk bed there.”

“Midi has already made our bed in this bedroom, she'll kill us if we move the sheets and ruin the fruits of her labour. See how the corners of the pillows are perfectly aligned? She's doing that for you, she made them upside down for me.”

I mentally appreciated the housekeeper's concern and thanked her for all she had done for me over the past few days, but no amount of coaxing could bring me back to sleep in the possible embrace of Circul.

He'd been talking nonstop this morning, even though he looked dazed, and he was doing his best to pull me out of my thoughts, which only made me feel worse. The more he tried to defuse the situation between us, the more awkward it became.

“I am too embarrassed to sleep in the same bed as you right now.”

“It's me who should be embarrassed,” Grant muttered.

He didn't wait any longer, and he lifted me up in his arms, dragged me into the room, and threw me down on the bedspread. The impact echoed painfully in my lower abdomen.

“Ouch!”

“Does it hurt?” the guy moved forward worriedly.

I gave him a wild ‘where are you going in my personal space’ look, Circul immediately grinned and said dismissively, “But why should I care about you? You're nothing to me, I'm nothing to you, we're from completely different food chains and we'd never have crossed paths if it wasn't for the collar around your neck.”

That was the most apt syllogism of the day. I preferred Grant like that. His cold stare, the way he didn't even allow himself to think about other people's feelings, disgusted me, which was just as well. I immediately stopped worrying about his opinion of me and breathed a sigh of relief.

And I would be immensely glad if these arrogant notes in his voice sounded all the time, instead of occasionally being interrupted by an unconscious stream of sympathy and empathy for me.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The moon made a path across the floor and I watched the clouds pass by, smiling for no reason. Grant snoozed under my side and it was still unusual to feel the warmth of another person, but surprisingly I didn't have any negative feelings for him when he slept. It was only when he opened his eyes and looked at me with his stern, Circul's gaze that a wave of hatred for him and his father rose from my heart and images of Risor's possible death at my hand flashed through my mind.

I liked looking at the young man when he belonged to the realm of Morpheus; there was none of the aristocratic arrogance and selfish manner of a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

And when he slept, he didn't control my emotions, he didn't suppress my anger, he didn't quell my heartache, he didn't make me laugh for no reason. Sometimes I could tell when he was using his magic on me, his interference with my perception of the world was like a slight breeze. When he used more power, the breeze was cold and refreshing, and when Grant wanted to subtly lift my spirits, the air around me warmed, dispelling the aura of gloom.

And sometimes it was only hours later, when I came to my senses, that I realised I had been mocked and my feelings played with, as if someone had ploughed through a field of ripe dandelions, pulled them up by the roots and burned them instead of enjoying the flight of the seeds. Grant was very cruel at times.

I got out of bed noiselessly, ran to the windowsill and sat upright on the floor, my face exposed to the moonlight. I didn't want to sleep; I was afraid that if I closed my eyes I would fall into a nightmare.

If there was a silent horror in my life, I could interrupt it and go to a better afterlife, but if I had a terrible dream, no matter how hard I tried to escape the chains of the night's terrors, my consciousness would not return to reality until I awoke to my own screams breaking my voice.

So the only thing I could do, the only way I could escape both sides of the nightmare, was to surrender to death. I had already decided for myself that as soon as I was done with Risor Circul, I would bid farewell to this world. Seventy-seven days remained before the end of my life.

It was funny, but I saw killing Circul Senior as something unrealistic, but almost accomplished. I didn't know how I was going to kill him, but I knew I was going to do everything I could to put my soul to rest. I thought about the worst thing in my life as if I were looking forward to a summer holiday by the sea. The moment when the tickets are bought, the suitcases are packed and all that remains is to wait for the time to come.

“Not sleeping?”

My back was covered with a terry cloth blanket.

Grant sat down next to me and now we were both staring at the moon like old souls tormented by insomnia.

I shrugged my shoulders to get rid of the plaid. I'd rather be freezing to death than be tended to by Circul right now. He reached out to give me back the warmth I'd lost, but I stopped him.

“No need. You shouldn't bother.”

“Why?” his palm hovered in the air.

“Grant, the more we talk to each other, the more attention we give each other, the more painful it will be for you to part with me later.”

He smiled understandingly, “Don't worry about me.”

“It's not you I'm worried about.”

Circul flashed his eyes mischievously. “Afraid you'll get hurt?”

“No, I'm afraid that…”

‘…eventually I'll stop wishing for death and want to live a normal life.’

I jerked my shoulders, imagining our possible ‘happy’ future with Grant Circul.

“Forget about it. And simply realise that your supposed concern is needless. You're just doing unnecessary work, wasting your time.”

He chuckled again.

“You don't get to decide what I do. And perhaps it is fun for me to…” he raised his fingers in quotation marks, “…’court you’ like this. It gives me a perverse pleasure to mock my enemy in this way.”

Funnily enough, in his mind I was far from being a close friend either.