Chapter 3 #2
Serin emerged from the sleeping chamber moments later, wrapped in a robe of simple linen that somehow made him look more royal than any cloth-of-gold. "Visitors?"
I relayed the priest's message quickly, watching emotions flicker across his face like candleflame, surprise, pleasure, and beneath it all, a shadow of something that might have been dread.
When he moved toward the chest, I stepped smoothly between him and it. "Allow me, Your Highness."
He paused, head tilted in question, but didn't argue. I was acutely aware that gifts from strangers could conceal any manner of unpleasant surprises. The Three Isles had enemies enough to make caution necessary.
The chest opened to reveal wonders that stole my breath.
Garments of silk so fine they seemed woven from sea-foam lay folded with loving care.
Small lanterns held stones that glowed with soft lunar radiance instead of oil or flame.
A bottle of wine bore a handwritten label proclaiming it a seventy-year vintage from the palace's own vineyards.
Delicate jewelry of silver and pearl nestled among sachets of exotic spices.
Each item spoke of wealth beyond measure, but more than that, of genuine welcome.
"They fear me," Serin said quietly, and the pain in his voice made my chest ache.
"They honor you as you deserve to be honored," I countered, though I could see why he might think otherwise. The richness of the gifts suggested a desire to please someone dangerous rather than simply welcome a guest.
He shook his head sadly, but his fingers traced the edge of a blue garment with something approaching hunger. "A seret," he murmured. "I've read about them but never seen one." After a moment's hesitation, he lifted the blue silk from its nest. "Help me with it."
The request hit me like cold water. Under normal circumstances, servants would assist with such tasks. But we were alone, and the intimacy of the moment stretched between us like a taut bowstring.
I could have retreated to my own chamber. Should have, for the sake of my sanity if nothing else. Instead, I stepped closer, hands steady despite the chaos in my chest.
"Of course."
He turned his back to me, and I reached for the ties of his simple robe with fingers that barely trembled. The linen whispered to the floor, leaving him naked in the lamplight, and I bit back a sound that would have revealed far too much.
His shoulders were broad, just as I had always imagined, tapering to a waist I could span with my hands.
Muscle moved beneath skin like honey poured over silk, and I found myself cataloguing details I had no right to notice, the small scar on his left shoulder blade from a childhood fall, the way his hair curled against his nape when damp, the elegant line of his spine disappearing into shadows I dared not follow with my eyes.
"Rhazir?" His voice was soft, questioning.
"Forgive me." I lifted the seret with hands that shook only slightly. "I'm unfamiliar with the garment's construction."
It was a lie. I was simply lost in the terrible beauty of him, drowning in want I could never voice.
The seret proved to be a marvel of design, a single length of silk that wrapped and draped with minimal fastening, conforming to the body's lines while maintaining an air of elegant simplicity.
I helped him into it with professional efficiency, my fingers brushing his skin only when necessary, each contact sending fire through my veins.
When it was done, he studied himself in the bronze mirror, and a small smile touched his lips. "Perhaps they'll fear me less if I wear their garments. What do you think?"
My throat was dry as parchment, my mouth empty of all moisture. "You wish to accept their offer?" The words emerged as barely more than a whisper.
Moving to the palace complex seemed far more dangerous than remaining in the sturdy anonymity of the inn. There we would be surrounded by Eletheria's rulers, their guards and scholars and diplomats, all watching to see what manner of man the Prince of the Three Isles might prove to be.
"Of course," Serin said, turning from the mirror with renewed energy. "Let us be gracious guests. But tomorrow. Tonight I wish only to sleep."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. As he disappeared into the sleeping chamber, I stood alone with the scattered gifts and the lingering scent of jasmine oil, wondering how I would survive even one night in paradise, let alone however long this exile might last.
The seret had transformed him into something that belonged in this place of beauty and wonder. And that, perhaps, was what I feared most of all, that Eletheria would claim him so completely that when the time came to return home, there would be nothing left of the prince I'd sworn to protect.
My gaze swept the room and identified the canvas bag I’d carried with me, sitting on a heap of discarded clothes. My heart clenched with the misery of what I had to do.
I searched the desk in the corner of the room, set out a parchment, a quill, and ink before me, and wrote a short missive under the silver light of the moonstone lamp. Each word felt like twisting the dagger in Serin’s back, but each mattered more than the one before it.
I sanded the parchment before sealing it with the guard’s seal, then carried it down to the serving boy for a speedy dispatch, together with two shiny coins that ensured the missive would find its way to the fastest ship.
When I returned to our chambers, silence greeted me.
Serin was fast asleep in his quarters, and I made my miserable way to the small room for the servant.
It was finer than the barracks, though not as fine as my palace chambers on the Three Isles.
No matter. Comfort had never been a concern of mine.
To think of it, I had only ever known one concern. And that one was peacefully asleep on the other side of the wall.