The Princess's Guard ✔️

13

Word count: 2193

~Kiva

There's only one thing that's going to get me through tonight.

Rifling through the cabinet, I push various cans and preserves to the side before my hand grasps the exact dusty bottle I've been looking for.

"Look what I found," I sing out, straightening to examine the bottle in the light.

I learnt my fathers proclivity for hiding his whiskey amongst the pantry foods that he figures I didn't like when I was a teenager. Now, it's going to get me through the night with Ark.

"Put that back where you found it," Ark warns.

I pop the top off it. "Why?"

He studies me from the far side of the room. It's clear he wants to get through this night with as little annoyance as possible on his part.

"You are not drinking," he mutters, as I wave the bottle around, trying to tempt him.

"We have been here for hours and both of us are bored," I wine, sniffing the bottle, trying not to wince at the strong scent it emits.

"Have you drunk before?" Ark questions irritably.

I narrow my eyes on him. He thinks of me as a child, and it's so frustrating I could crush the glass between my hands.

He's not so much more experienced than me...I mean, he probably is but I don't need to think about it.

"A small amount. I'll just have a tiny bit." I hold my fingers up as a physical representation.

He doesn't even blink. "No."

I talk across the room toward him, weaving around the outdated furniture. Father demanded none of it be touched after my mother died, considering it was her design choice.

"What's the worst that could happen? I'm here with you, no one can get to us. For once, I'm truly safe," I assure him, motioning out the window.

The sun has officially set, meaning nothing can be seen through the glass. Beyond, there is a beautiful lake surrounded by trees.

No one can get us here. But if they did, there would be no where to run or hide.

Ark rolls his eyes. "Fine. Just one sip."

Grinning, I pull the bottle to my lips, taking a long drink. It burns deliciously on the way down, and I don't stop with just one drink.

Ark is quick to pull the bottle from my lips, some spilling down my chin as I laugh animatedly.

"Kiva," he scolds darkly, holding it just out of reach.

My eyes trace the length of his strong arm all the way up to the bottle in his hands. This is the first time I've seen him without a jacket or long-sleeved tunic, allowing me to see the extent of the tattoos I figured he had.

On some days I've seen them barely peeking above the collar of his shirt, but not I examine them with a curious gaze.

I want a tattoo, I've decided. But whether that is in my future is an entirely different question.

"That was hardly any..." I drawl, although by the way it burns in the pit of my stomach, it may be enough to get me tipsy.

His brows draw together. "No more. I mean it."

He sets it down on the counter. As he turns away, I grab it, sprinting across the room as fast as I can, dodging around furniture until I feel I'm at a safe enough distance from Ark to drink a few more sips.