Chapter 22 - Isi #2
My hair hung in damp ropes down my back, trailing across my bare spine. I crossed the warm stone floor and stepped into my bedroom, letting the air touch my skin that prickled everywhere it cooled. The door to the hall was closed. I didn’t sense or hear anyone outside.
Why had I thought Trew would be standing here, waiting for me?
Grumbling, I turned toward the bed.
King Trewyn’s offering sat on the coverlet in a neat pile.
My stomach twisted. What kind of clothing had this king delivered?
I approached them. Lifted them.
The tunic had been crafted from blue fabric, the same pale color as my eyes, and I held it up in the light.
Long enough to cover my hips, it could be cinched in at my waist with the braided leather cord coiled in a neat pile on top of the darker blue pants.
Deep pockets. A clean, utilitarian design with bits of silver etching that would catch the light but not flash or look bold. Soft and sensual to the touch.
This was no simple dress a woman might wear for a celebratory dinner. No, this was an outfit perfect for a woman who might need to defend herself with her feet and her hands.
I scanned the room. Shadows pooled beside the wardrobe and behind the carved screen near the hearth. I even glanced toward the ceiling, but I found no other evidence this man had been inside my room.
With this clothing, he’d left his mark again. Did he imagine me wearing them when he chose them?
The underthings had been tucked beneath the pants. Soft. Luxurious. And with thin lace trim so fine it nearly disappeared into the pale blue fabric. Not the kind of thing you’d hand off to a simple warrior. These had been chosen specifically for me.
Had he touched them and imagined them caressing my body? Had he held them to his mouth and closed his eyes?
I should dig out my travel wear. Donning the things he’d brought me would look like submission. But my fingers moved on their own, pinning the tunic against my chest, my senses soaking in the smooth weave of the cloth on my bare skin.
I hated how much I wanted to feel it gliding across my body.
And then I saw it on the bed beside the underthings, blending in with the coverlet. A leather sheath that held a slim, lethal blade, the hilt adorned with fine etchings and light blue stones alternating with onyx black.
A parallel to him and me? I shrugged off the thought.
I didn’t miss the symbolism of the blade. He’d replaced the one I’d stabbed him with.
I held onto the tunic for a long while before tossing it back onto the bed. With a nod, I started dressing. The undergarments slid over my skin like butter, molding to my curves, hugging my thighs and my breasts. I tugged on the pants and secured the cord at my waist. And the tunic…
I tried to shrug off the feel of his hands gliding across my body as I slid it over my head and thrust my arms through the half-sleeves. There was no shrugging off anything when I smoothed it across my chest and thighs, my fingers lingering to soak in the sensual feel.
Every thread of this fabric felt like a chain and a promise. I was shrouding myself in him, whether I wanted to or not. A surrender I’d never admit aloud. A war between my wild heart and the desire for his touch.
I felt dangerous. Desirable. And I couldn’t decide whether I liked or hated the feeling. He wasn’t touching me, but he was already under my skin.
After securing the sheath and belt at my waist, I walked over to examine myself in the mirror, unsure if I liked how I looked dressed by Trew’s hands.
With a huff, I sat on the bed and tugged on the boots that soothed my sore feet and hugged my shins in a snug way that would allow seamless movement yet only heightened my overall appearance.
That man knew my measurements, my stride, and my preferences. I was not only being clothed; I was being claimed.
I brushed out my thick hair until it crackled and left it down, gliding across my back.
After frowning at myself in the mirror, I stepped out into the hall, hearing the door magically lock behind me.
Lexie opened her door mid-knock. Her damp hair had been pulled into a ponytail and secured with a leather cord. She wore a simple green dress, the sort you pack when you expect you might need something clean and attractive. Her eyes flicked down to my boots and back, pausing at my blade.
“You must’ve kept that hidden in your bag,” she said about the blade. “As warriors, we’re allowed weapons now. As recruits…”
She didn’t need to say anything else. I could still picture my knives sinking into the lake.
She reached out and ran a fingertip down one of the bits of silver etching.
“Nice,” she said. “Did you bring this outfit with you?”
“Um…yes.”
My, wasn’t lying coming easy for me lately.
“They didn’t leave you something to wear?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Why would they?”
I pressed for a smile and shrugged.
I caught her eyeing my boots, the soft leather, buttery-smooth, clearly tailored for both elegance and function.
“You’re about my size, right?” I asked.
She blinked. “I think so?”
“Want to trade footwear?”
Her grin broke wide. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
She didn’t ask why. Just kicked off her shoes and slid into the boots with a delighted little gasp. “I feel like a queen.”
“You should. Women are all queens, aren’t we?”
“Right we are.”
I wiggled into her shoes, the heels worn and toes creased. They pinched a bit. Good. I tugged my pants down over them and straightened my shoulders.
The small version of her bonded creature, a fuzzy, badger-like thing no larger than her hand, scurried across the room to sniff her shoes now on my feet. It sneezed and darted behind her left foot, peering around her leg at me in a mischievous way that made me laugh.
My minxpip felt notably absent.
“This is Levar.” She scooped him up and held him like a baby.
“The dragon?”
“Exactly.”
A chime rang out, tinkling through the air.
“Time to leave,” Lexie said with a smile. “Let’s collect the others.”
With our arms linked, we walked down the hall.
Kerralyn answered on the second knock, already dressed in a tunic and trousers. Not new, but crisp and well cared for. The starched outfit matched her academic style and went well with the pencil she’d used to secure her hair in a neat bun at her nape.
She crossed the room to retrieve her own small companion, a sleek-furred mole with round, intelligent eyes. When she placed it on her shoulder, it clung to her tunic with tiny claws.
“Keek,” she said, tilting her head toward the mole. “She’s quiet, but not shy.”
We left, crossing the corridor.
Derren opened his door with a tired smile. A moth-hawk hybrid hovered by his shoulder, studying us standing in the hall, its paper-thin wings creating a tiny breeze.
“Meet Dare, everyone.” Derren stepped out to join us and tugged Lexie into his arms, giving her a long kiss.
We stopped at Bryson’s room next.
He wore gray pants and a black tunic. His furless, antlered, big-eyed companion scampered around us, sniffing our shoes.
“Come on, now, Beau,” Bryson said with an indulgent smile. “Leave them alone.”
Sitting beside Bryson’s boots, the creature yawned.
I did my best to appear happy. Watching them interact with the small versions of their companions made the lack of weight on my shoulder stab deeply.
My minxpip hadn’t returned, and I was beginning to suspect she wouldn’t. But I’d urged her away. What else did I expect?
We knocked on Maddox’s door, and he opened it halfway. Shirtless. Hair unwashed and rumpled. Blotches covered his face, and his eyes held a hard edge that made me want to take a step backward.
I didn’t allow my body to follow through.
“I’m not going to dinner,” he said.
Lexie frowned. “Maddox—”
Kerralyn spoke gently. “Grief isn’t a single thing. It’s not a shape that fits all wounds alike. It twists and coils, sometimes a shadow choking the light, other times a fire burning slow—”
Maddox’s eyes sharpened. “I didn’t ask for poetry.” His gaze snagged mine, full of blame and raw pain.
Derren reached out, his hand hovering over Maddox’s shoulder, but he stepped back instead of touching.
Maddox snatched up his sleek black cat companion that had started to venture out into the hall, and slammed the door in our faces.
“Ignore him,” Lexie said. “He’ll get over it.”
I wasn’t so sure.
We took the stairs down to the main floor and strode toward the dining hall. Lexie cradled Levar against her collarbone. Derren’s Dare flitted ahead, gobbling up insects he snagged from the air. Bryson jogged to catch Beau, who darted under a decorative pedestal near the wall.
Even Kerralyn’s mole nuzzled her ear.
I walked alone.
My borrowed shoes didn’t make a sound on the polished floor. My clothing barely rustled. My blade rode light on my hip.
But I felt exposed.
I told myself I didn’t need a companion. I’d bonded, so I could remain here, and that was all that mattered.
The dining hall glowed like a festival. Floating chandeliers drifted lazily overhead, highlighting the long tables bursting with platters heaped with food and carafes full of various beverages.
Servants weaved between them, fingers flicking out to refill a trencher here or a cup there.
Laughter and excited chatter rang like bells through the big open room.
Companions darted underfoot or fluttered above us, small and as varied as the prettiest stars.
We stopped inside the archway, five points of stillness in a moving world.
My gaze sought Trew.
He sat at the high table, somehow shining brighter than anyone else. His onyx-black tunic with silver ornaments on the shoulders gave him a regal appearance, though no more regal than the simple silver crown adorning his head.
His eyes caught mine, and I forgot how to breathe.
The possession in his gaze seared through me, causing heat to bloom in my belly and glide downward. He slid his gaze along my body, and I couldn’t hold back my shiver.
This was the same look he’d given me when I stood wet and naked in front of him, my chin lifted and a dare in my eyes.
My pulse surged, a traitorous drum in my chest. I wanted to look away, to deny him any satisfaction.
I squared my shoulders, raised my chin, and followed my friends to a partly empty table.
Let him look.
I would not look back.