54. Discoveries
Discoveries
The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat tugged me from sleep, my arm instinctively reaching across the sheets before my mind could fully surface. My fingers found only empty space, still warm but abandoned.
I sat up, the silk sheets pooling around my waist. The crimson light of Draknavor bled through the windows, painting the rumpled bedding in bloody shadows.
Evidence of what we'd done was scattered across the floor.
My discarded dress in tatters, the shattered remains of a goblet neither of us had bothered to catch when it fell.
I pressed my fingers to a particularly sensitive bite mark at the hollow of my throat, the slight pain a tangible reminder that last night hadn't been a fever dream.
I slid from the bed, goosebumps rising on my naked skin in the perpetual chill of the castle. I grabbed the first thing I found—Xül's black silk robe hanging on the back of the door. The fabric slid over my skin like water.
I followed the smell of food, the cold stone biting at my bare feet. Each step made the robe swish around my ankles, the sleeves dangling comically past my fingertips .
I rounded the corner to the small dining chamber and froze.
Xül stood at the table, arranging food on plates. His back was to me, bare muscles flexing as he moved. He wore only loose black pants that rode low on his hips, his midnight braids still mussed from sleep.
"You've developed a habit of staring," he said without turning, his deep voice scraping along my already-raw nerves. "Not that I mind."
I leaned against the doorframe, fighting the ridiculous urge to run to him, to press myself against that bare back and feel his warmth. "You cook now?"
He glanced over his shoulder, one corner of his mouth lifting in that almost-smile that did dangerous things to my heart. His eyes raked over me, lingering on where the robe gaped at my chest.
"I sent the staff away," he said, turning fully to face me. "I wanted to be the one to serve you today."
I crossed to him, nerves fluttering in my stomach. What rules governed this fragile, newborn thing between us?
"Sit," he said, pulling out a chair. "Before it gets cold."
I settled in, the scent of fresh bread making my stomach growl embarrassingly loud. Xül's lips twitched as he took the seat opposite, his bare foot brushing mine beneath the table.
"Eat," he said, gesturing to the spread before us. A loaf, still steaming. Seared pork. Fluffy eggs with peppers and onions. "You need your strength."
I tore off a piece of bread. "For what, exactly?"
His eyes darkened. "Don’t play coy, starling."
“The Trials?” I asked, innocence lacing my voice.
“Among other things.”
The way he said it sent a shiver across my skin.
Strange, how quickly things had shifted between us. Two months ago I'd have sooner cut out my own tongue than share a meal with the Warden. Now I couldn't stop remembering the way he'd gasped against my throat, the reverent way his hands had mapped my body.
"You're thinking very loudly," he said, breaking into my thoughts.
I looked up to find him watching me, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps you pay too close attention."
"The robe isn’t helping. Or rather, the lack of it in places far too distracting to ignore."
I smiled. “That might have been intentional.”
“I have no doubt,” he murmured, setting down his fork. “However, I need to leave shortly. There's urgent business I must attend to."
My heart sank. "What kind of business?"
"The kind that can't wait." His tone was final, but there was hesitation in his eyes.
"Is it about Nyvora?" The question slipped out, small and pathetic.
Surprise flickered across his eyes. Or maybe it was guilt. "No," he said after a beat too long. "It's not about Nyvora."
"I see," I said, setting down my goblet before I could throw it at his perfect fucking face. "When will you be back?"
"Tonight." He hesitated, then added. “Will you wait up for me?”
Gods help me, the question knocked the fight right out of me.
"I’ll try my best, Warden."
His lips curved into a small smile. "Good."
"Before you go—is there any way I could see Thatcher before the next trial?" I said, dragging a napkin across my lower lip.
He cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. "That may be difficult."
"Because of Chavore?" I pressed.
"Chavore and I have not been on friendly terms for a long time,” he said carefully. "My presence in his domain would be... unwelcome. A request for a visit here, even more so. "
I frowned. "You've only been immortal for, what, a decade? How much bad blood could there possibly be?"
His laugh was harsh, humorless. "You'd be surprised how quickly things can sour. The fact that he’s essentially a well-trained lapdog for Olinthar certainly doesn’t help the situation." He pushed back from the table, rising. "I'll think on it."
"It's important, Xül," I said, rising as well. "I need to see him."
He nodded, his expression softening. "I’ll try to find a way."
The tenderness in his voice undid me. I reached for him, fingers hooking into the waistband of his pants, holding him in place. "How urgent is this meeting?"
His pupil dilated, the gold in his right eye nearly swallowed by black. "Urgent enough," he said, though he made no move to pull away.
I pressed myself against him, relishing the sharp intake of his breath. "I think whatever meeting you have can wait ten minutes."
His hands gripped my waist, and for a heartbeat, I thought I'd won. But then he stepped back, breaking my hold.
"I can't," he said, his voice rough. "As much as I want to—and gods, do I want to—I can't put this off."
I crossed my arms, not bothering to fix the robe where it had slipped off one shoulder. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes," he answered too quickly. "It's nothing for you to worry about."
Bullshit. I lifted an eyebrow, making it clear I saw straight through him.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll return as soon as I can," he promised. "And then we can... continue this discussion."
"Is that an order?" I asked, my voice honey-sweet, belying the frustration churning beneath.
"No." He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch sending sparks dancing across my skin. "It's a request. Be waiting for me tonight. In my bed."
My breath hitched. Before I could respond, he leaned down and captured my lips in a bruising kiss that left me dizzy and aching for more.
"Until tonight," he murmured against my mouth.
And then he was gone, darkness swirling around him like a cloak, leaving nothing but the ghost of his touch and the scent of him wrapped around me.
I stood frozen for a long moment, fingers pressed to my still-tingling lips. The nagging feeling in my gut wouldn't subside. Something was off.
The thought soured what remained of my appetite. I cleared the table, wrapping the leftover bread and storing the meat. There was something soothing about the mundane task, so different from the chaos that had become my life.
My hands worked automatically while my mind raced.
Last night had changed everything and nothing.
Xül had touched me like I was precious, had whispered words against my skin that made me believe we could find a way forward together.
But in the harsh light of morning, reality reasserted itself—he was still bound to another, and I was still just a contestant in the Trials.
Xül would still have to follow through with a marriage that would make him miserable. But no future was promised. Even Heron had admitted that destiny could be changed, paths altered.
I needed to see Thatcher. A knot of anxiety tightened in my chest at the thought of facing another trial without speaking to him first. What if we were thrown into separate challenges?
What if the Aesymar kept us apart until the very end?
I couldn't rely on finding a moment to strategize with him in the midst of whatever cruel test they'd designed.
The next trial.
My mind snagged on the letter we’d received. Some of the other letters had contained hidden clues or language that made perfect sense in hindsight. Had I even read this one myself? With Xül's... distractions... I couldn't remember.
No, I hadn’t. Xül had never shown it to me .
I moved through the castle, following the twisting corridors until I reached the massive oak doors of his study.
I pushed the door open, guilt twisting in my stomach as I slipped inside. The room smelled of parchment and ink. Memories of our last encounter here flashed through my mind. My back against his desk, papers scattering to the floor?—
Focus, Thais.
Gods, where would I even start?
I moved behind his desk, sinking into his chair and surveying the chaos before me.
Unlike the meticulous order he maintained in every other aspect of his life, Xül's workspace was a battlefield of papers, scrolls, open books, and half-empty ink pots. Organized chaos. I’m sure he knew where everything was.
Well, good for him. I had no fucking clue.
I started with the most recent-looking stack of papers. Most were administrative nonsense.
I pulled open the top drawer of his desk, finding it full of blank parchment and spare quills. The second drawer contained a collection of sealing wax in various colors.
My gaze snagged on a small panel in the wall behind Xül's desk, the wood a slightly different shade. I ran my fingers along the edges of the panel until I felt a small catch. I pressed it, and the panel slid open.
Inside were several scrolls and a leather folder tied with black ribbon. My heart quickened as I pulled the folder free, untying the ribbon with fingers that suddenly felt clumsy. A small notebook tumbled out, bound in dark red leather.