Free The Wilds (Reign and Ruin 1) by Jules Hedger Page A

there. And the feeling I had forgotten,
or put aside to forget, of what it felt to have his green eyes
pinned to my face. What would those years be like sharing my mind
with him? Would I wonder the hallways, speaking to him and to
myself, dragging a dirty bathrobe behind? Is that what the ruler of
Palet should look like? Or would it be companionship, a body to
move against and someone to get dressed for in the morning? I
shivered and was afraid to admit what it was for. I told myself
that it was insidious to think about.
    The first door
that I opened led into an abandoned room filled with furniture
covered in heavy, white dust cloths. The curtains were drawn but I
felt how stale and ancient the air was. But the second one I tried
opened onto a room that must have been Tyler's. The handle turned
smoothly and the well-oiled door silently opened into an obviously
lived-in bedroom.
    The space was
as dark as the hall, but at least the furniture was uncovered.
There was no musty smell or feeling of dampness and when I drew
back the curtains to bring in the last remaining light from outside
I saw that unlike the rest of the house, someone had rid this room
of the dust.
    The large bed
was unmade and clothes littered the floor around the chest of
drawers: suspenders, briefs, wrinkled white dress shirts. Tyler had
obviously gotten dressed in a hurry, but besides that the room was
tidy, personal, and filled with small bits of a normal human
being.
    Periodically
listening to make sure there were no sounds of my host coming back,
I took my time wandering around the room. It wasn't all that
interesting, but I didn't know what I was expecting. He had a box
of buttons on his dresser and a bookcase filled with leather bound
volumes on birds, foraging, and crafts. A well-thumbed paperback
was perched by his side of the bed next to an identical photograph
of Clara, still sat sombrely by the same fern.
    His desk was
placed by the window. It was an old wooden roll-top that slid up
and over to reveal a writing surface. I saw a keyhole in the front
but when I went to open the lid, it moved smoothly open without a
key. I flicked aside a few pieces of papers and discarded pencils.
I absentmindedly picked up one of his letters and read a few lines
about fabric thickness and the difference between cotton and linen.
My God, this man was so boring.
    I think I felt
I was owed something. If I was going to revert back to my
adolescent days I was damn well going to find some secret. This man
had to have some, even if it was as boring as soft porn or a pair
of women's underwear. I opened a drawer and rifled to the back,
where my hands touched upon a small box about the width of a
postcard. I opened it up quickly and saw, amongst a stack of old
photographs, a bag of tobacco and some rolling papers. Jackpot!
    A whistle
floated up from the front garden and looking quickly out of the
window I saw Tyler hurrying back up towards the porch.
    "Shit," I
whispered with a little thrill. I slid the top back on the writing
desk and tiptoed quickly back over the carpet to the hallway.
Closing the door silently I tucked the box of tobacco under my
jacket and quietly moved further down the hallway. I jumped towards
the farthest door in the three and slid inside just as I heard
Tyler's keys jingle in the lock.
    Yes! Just made
it. I leaned against the door, smiling to myself as Tyler moved
into the front hallway. These small triumphs were the sweetest . .
.
    The bed was
stripped and there were sheets and a blanket folded at the end of
the mattress. I rushed over and stuffed the box under the bedframe.
I heard his whistle drift softly up from the downstairs, but he
didn't come to check on me. Part of me was relieved.
    I pried open
the window by the bed and pulled the tobacco box out again. What I
needed now was a drink. Or a smoke. And I had one so fuck it, I was
going to sneak a cigarette out of the window like a lame
teenager.
    The first drag
was incredible and so sue me, the