The Girl Behind the Locked Door
1089 Words
By sunrise, the entire eastern wing knew two things.
The human girl had locked herself inside her room.
And the king had not left the corridor once.
Servants moved in nervous silence, carrying trays of untouched food to and from the door. Guards were reassigned three times because no one wanted to stand too close to Kael while he was in that mood.
Which was unfortunate.
Because Kael had many moods.
This one simply looked the most lethal.
He sat in a carved chair opposite Aria’s door, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. To anyone who did not know him, he appeared calm.
To everyone else, he looked one insult away from bloodshed.
A tray rested beside him.
Fresh bread.
Fruit.
Tea.
Still warm.
He had sent breakfast himself.
It had remained untouched for an hour.
Ronan arrived with the cautious expression of a man entering a battlefield.
“You know,” he said slowly, “this is becoming unsettling.”
Kael did not look up.
“Go away.”
“You haven’t moved.”
“I moved once.”
Ronan glanced at the door. “Tragic. Did she applaud?”
Kael’s jaw tightened.
Good. That meant he was listening.
Ronan leaned against the wall and studied the untouched tray.
“She still hasn’t eaten?”
“No.”
“Drunk water?”
“No.”
“Screamed dramatically?”
Kael’s eyes lifted.
Ronan raised both hands. “Just gathering data.”
The silence that followed was heavy enough to bruise.
Through the bond, Kael could feel fragments of her.
Not clear thoughts.
Never thoughts.
Only impressions.
Exhaustion.
Shame.
A dull ache beneath her skin.
And grief so deep it never fully left.
Each emotion struck him like distant thunder.
Not enough to understand.
Enough to hurt.
“She’ll make herself sick,” he said quietly.
Ronan’s expression softened for the first time.
“She’s hurting.”
“I know.”
“Then stop staring at the door like you can intimidate trauma into healing.”
Kael stood.
The corridor temperature seemed to drop with him.
Ronan sighed. “There he is.”
Kael crossed to the door and knocked once.
Firm.
Controlled.
No answer.
He knocked again.
“Aria.”
Nothing.
He could hear movement inside now. Soft footsteps. The rustle of fabric.
She was awake.
Ignoring him deliberately.
The realization should not have pleased him.
At least anger was movement.
“At minimum,” Kael said to the wood, “eat.”
Silence.
“I can remove the door.”
Still nothing.
Ronan called helpfully from the wall, “That feels romantic.”
Kael ignored him.
He placed his palm flat against the door.
Through the bond came a sharp pulse of stubbornness.
Then embarrassment.
Then the faintest thread of hunger she refused to acknowledge.
His mouth almost curved.
“She is impossible,” he muttered.
“And yet here you are.”
Kael stepped back.
The handle turned.
Both males straightened instantly.
The door opened only a fraction.
A pale hand emerged.
It reached down, took the tray from the floor—
Then the door slammed shut again.
Ronan stared.
Kael stared harder.
From inside the room came the unmistakable sound of the lock turning.
Ronan burst into laughter.
“She robbed you.”
Kael exhaled slowly through his nose.
“She ate.”
“That was not the lesson I took from this.”
Inside her room, Aria set the tray on the table with more force than necessary.
Her hands trembled.
Why had she opened the door?
Because she was hungry.
Because her body felt weak.
Because hearing his voice through wood did something infuriating to her pulse.
She hated all three reasons.
The room, once elegant, now looked like a fortress built from stubbornness. Curtains half-drawn. Pillows on the floor. Wardrobe open and abandoned. Bandages discarded on the vanity.
She had spent the night pacing, crying once in furious silence, then hating herself for that too.
The kiss replayed each time she closed her eyes.
His hand in her hair.
The taste of him.
The way she had wanted more.
She shoved the memory away and tore bread in half.
Eat.
Survive.
Nothing else.
A knock sounded again.
Her jaw clenched.
Another.
Then Ronan’s voice drifted through the wood.
“Before you ignore me, I’d like to state that I’m charming and significantly less dangerous.”
Aria stared at the door.
Silence.
He continued anyway.
“What happened yesterday—it wasn’t weakness.”
Her fingers tightened around the bread.
“It was heat,” Ronan said. “And no, before you ask, that doesn’t make it less humiliating. I hated mine.”
Despite herself, she moved closer.
He heard the footsteps and lowered his voice.
“It doesn’t mean you forgive him. Doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means the bond is stronger than pride for a little while.”
Aria closed her eyes.
The shame in her chest loosened by a fraction.
Only a fraction.
Outside, Ronan leaned against the wall beside Kael.
“She’s listening.”
Kael’s gaze never left the door.
“Good.”
Ronan smirked. “Should I explain your tragic feelings too?”
“No.”
“Your poetry then? Your midnight staring? The way you nearly killed Tomas for breathing near her wing?”
“No.”
“Pity. It’s excellent material.”
The door opened suddenly.
Both males went still.
Aria stood there, hair loose, face pale, tray in hand.
Her eyes slid past Kael as if he were furniture.
Then she looked at Ronan.
“Thank you.”
Kael felt the words like a personal attack.
Ronan placed a hand over his heart. “You’re welcome.”
Aria set the empty tray in the corridor.
Then, for one brief second, her gaze flicked to Kael.
He caught too much in that glance.
Exhaustion.
Defiance.
And hunger she wished he hadn’t seen.
She shut the door in his face.
The lock clicked.
Ronan winced theatrically.
“That one had force behind it.”
Kael bent, picked up the tray, and handed it to a passing servant without looking away from the door.
“She ate,” he said.
Ronan blinked.
“That is somehow not the point.”
Kael resumed his seat outside her room.
This time, he allowed himself the smallest trace of satisfaction.
Inside, Aria leaned against the closed door, eyes shut, heart pounding.
Why did seeing him there make the room feel less empty?
She hated that question most of all.
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