Chapter 7 #3
He strides toward the bedroom door before pausing. “Breakfast will be waiting whenever you are ready,” he says without turning around. “Take your time, my dearest.”
Then he leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
My hand finally falls from the pendant, the key I’ve worn around my neck for the last ten years. A wave of remembrance crashes over me when I think of the strange traveling merchant who gave me the necklace when I was just twelve years old.
The memory lingers, and for some reason, my chest tightens.
But I swallow hard and force my attention back to the present.
I stare at the mountain of boxes spread across the bed. At the beautiful dresses and the fur-lined slippers. At the midnight-blue cloak that probably costs more money than my family will ever see in one lifetime. And suddenly, I feel overwhelmed again. Tears also sting my eyes.
I visit the bathing room through a door that’s located in a corner of the bedroom, pleased to find it is just as well stocked as the one in the hallway, teeming with all the amenities I could ever need.
I wash my face, clean my teeth, run a brush through my hair, and try to make myself presentable.
I’m also stalling. I return to the bedroom and stare at the dresses, stockings, undergarments, shoes, and the cloak, feeling strangely like an imposter.
But I know Merak is waiting, so I begin trying everything on. Some of the items are a tad large, but nothing I couldn’t alter myself with a needle and thread. The midnight-blue dress fits perfectly, however, and I cannot resist twirling once before the floor-length mirror after putting it on.
I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me.
Surely no one from Braemar would know me, dressed like this. Not even my own family.
A distant knock sounds, followed by muffled voices, and I realize breakfast is probably being delivered. My stomach growls at the promise of food, and I turn toward the door while contemplating whether I’m truly prepared to face Merak again.
Even though this all still feels like too much, I know if I step out wearing the purple robe and go in search of my discarded clothing, assuming it’s still somewhere in the suite, the stubborn male will simply send me back to change into one of the new dresses.
Well, I might as well wear the blue gown I already have on, the one embroidered with silver thread that glimmers beautifully in the sunlight. After taking one final glance in the mirror and smoothing my hands nervously through my hair, I leave the bedroom.
I find Merak in the kitchen standing beside a table laden with boiled eggs, fried potatoes, fresh bread, sliced fruit, and some sort of roasted meat I cannot identify. My mouth waters, but I nearly forget the food altogether when Merak lifts his gaze to me.
He draws a sudden, sharp breath.
Then he simply stares.
The intensity of his expression prompts my face to grow heated. His dark eyes slowly travel over me, pausing on the gown, then my hair, then my face. The emotions rising within him strike me with so much force that I almost gasp. Admiration. Raw, primal lust. Reverence. Pride.
He thinks I’m beautiful.
“Gwen, you…” His voice comes out raspy. He swallows hard, momentarily robbed of words. “Gwen, my dearest, you look stunning.”
My face grows even hotter. “It’s just a dress.”
“No,” he says immediately, still staring at me with an almost dazed expression. “It is far more than that. It is you.”
He steps closer, his gaze never leaving mine.
“The blue suits you perfectly,” he murmurs. “It makes your dark hair appear more radiant somehow, and your eyes…” His voice trails off briefly. “Gods, I do not think I have ever seen eyes quite like yours. So dark and soulful that I sometimes find myself struggling to breathe when I look at you.”
Warmth spreads through my body, and my face feels aflame. No one has ever paid me such a grand compliment. I glance away, suddenly incapable of enduring the intensity of his attention. No one has ever looked at me this way before. Not once.
I try to push away the residual shame over not being able to attract any suitors back in Braemar, the shame I felt at being twenty-two but still unmarried.
Merak pulls out one of the chairs at the table for me. “Come sit, my dearest. You must be hungry.”
I move toward the table on shaky legs and take my seat.
His fresh, winter scent washes over me as he pushes in my chair, and he lingers behind me for a moment.
The tension between us heightens, making me wonder what will happen tonight, and the night after that.
Surely at some point, his restraint will falter and he will kiss me, perhaps even try to ravish me.
I push such thoughts away before the heat can resume pulsating in my core.
I look at the spread of food, wondering where the proprietor found fresh fruit in the middle of winter.
But then I realize the fruit holds a faint glimmer, meaning it’s ussha-blessed and native to the fae lands.
It’s my understanding that even in the Winter Court, where it is cold and snowy year-round, the vegetation can produce fruit and vegetables that glimmer with ussha.
“Don’t worry,” Merak says. “The food that’s been prepared is safe for human consumption. Some ussha-blessed fruits and vegetables can make humans intoxicated if you overindulge, however the portions here are well within safe boundaries.”
I nod as I recall the warnings that passed through Braemar in the days preceding the Winter Court army’s attack—warnings not to eat the ussha-blessed fruit that could suddenly be found closer to the city.
Apparently, several hunters partook in too many glimmering pears, only to become so drunk they passed out in the forest. One of older men, a friend of my stepfather’s, fell face first in a puddle of mud, only to never awake.
I’m grateful that Merak is taking my human constitution into account. In any case, it probably wouldn’t be wise for me to get raging drunk around him.
He takes a seat across from me and offers me a basket of bread. I smile politely, take a thick slice, and set it on my plate. He continues passing me food from the various platters, and I make my selections and place the items on the plate that’s larger than Merak’s head.
“This is enough food for an entire family,” I remark, wishing my family were here with me now. If only.
A faint smile touches Merak’s lips. “Then it is fortunate we are both quite hungry. I am not trying to embarrass you, my dearest, but I did hear your stomach growling through the door as you were trying the clothes on. For a moment, I thought perhaps a mountain beast had gotten inside.”
Despite myself, a small laugh escapes me.
After pouring me a cup of tea, he leans back slightly in his chair, though his attention remains fixed entirely on me. “After breakfast,” he says, “I will show you more of Ellonnar.”
My pulse quickens. I glance toward the balcony, then peer toward the windows on the far side of the suite that provide a view of the street.
“The town? Really?” Excitement sweeps through me at the prospect of exploring Ellonnar.
Even just walking down one or two streets would feel…
thrillingly new. I think of all the times I sat on the stone walls of Braemar, aching with all my heart to follow the road.
“Yes, really.” Merak’s eyes shimmer with satisfaction, revealing he’s pleased by my enthusiasm. “The markets, the gardens, the greenhouses, and perhaps even the lower mountain paths. This is my first time visiting Ellonnar too, and I thought we might explore it together.”
I give an eager nod. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
He smiles. “Eat your fill, my dearest, and then we will go on a little adventure.”