Chapter Forty-Five
“ A nd then what happened?”
I blow out a long sigh, playing with the ends of my braid. “Nothing,” I admit. “I fell asleep, and he just let me lay in his arms until morning came.”
Marcella sits cross-legged and wide-eyed on her bed. She leans forward, bracing her weight on her propped elbows. “And then you just, what? Parted ways so you can get ready for your training with him soon?”
A helpless, smitten smile tugs at my lips. I try to bite down on it, but it refuses to go anywhere as I nod my head in response.
Marcella blows out a low whistle. “By Amala…look at you, all heart-eyed. And for the Dalmar Heir, no less. Which—” she tilts forward “—is one hell of a surprise by the way.” She makes a show of heaving a loud sigh and leans back.
“Though, I guess waking up in a man’s arms— especially arms like Draven’s—will do that to you. ”
Gray clears his throat and lifts his hand from beside Marcella. “Do I really need to be here for this?”
Marcella shoots him a look. “You’re the one who said you wanted to stay for the conversation.”
Gray lifts a brow at her. “I wanted to stay and make sure Lyra was alright after an old friend of ours was forced to provide her with upsetting news, resulting in her disappearing all night. I wanted to make sure she was okay. ”
An ache throbs in my heart at the mention of Delroy’s death; I allow it to be felt.
When I got back to my room this morning, Gray was waiting for me, leaned against the wall on my bed, talking to Marcella who was laying backwards on her own bed. I guess Klytis had found him immediately after I ran off, informing him of everything that happened.
He’s been waiting for me ever since.
Marcella folds her arms over her chest. “You’re her best friend—her closest companion—are you not?”
Gray narrows his eyes on her. “I am.”
“Great, then shut up and listen to your best friend tell the story of how she fell in love, before I assume the role instead.”
Both Gray’s and my brows lurch up at the same moment.
“What?” Marcella asks, bouncing her gaze between us. “If it looks like a flower and smells like a flower…” She shrugs, allowing us to fill in the rest.
Gray studies her a moment longer, a curve still wedged in his brow. “Be that as it may, I did not sign up to listen to you two drool over some guy’s arms.”
Marcella knocks her shoulder into Gray’s. “Jealous?”
He clicks his tongue. “Please,” he grumbles.
Smiling with some unspoken victory, Marcella turns her attention back onto me. She jabs a thumb in Gray’s direction. “Your best friend here is not very good at girl talk.”
I chuckle, shaking my head and mocking a pout. “Such a shame. He used to be so good at it.”
Gray rolls his eyes, helpless, before shooting Marcella a look.
But once he returns his gaze to me, his features soften.
“Just so we’re clear,” he begins, his voice gentle.
“I am happy for you, Lyra. Though the circumstances leading up to what happened in that greenhouse were…less than ideal, since the day your mother passed, your eyes have never been so bright.” His lips sweep up into a smile.
“And there are no words to express how happy it makes me to see you with life in your eyes again.”
A swell of emotion hits me in the chest, and though it is difficult, I try not to shove it away—to brush it aside or dilute it with counter thoughts.
Marcella observes Gray with a softened gaze, then sighs. “Alright,” she concedes. “I retract what I said—I guess Gray is pretty decent at girl talk, after all.”
“My life’s greatest accomplishment,” he replies.
She huffs a laugh, and there is a passing silence—until Marcella clears her throat. “While we’re on the subject of boys…” A rosy hue tints her pale cheeks, and a lopsided curve pulls at one side of her mouth. “I have some news.”
Gray’s brows twitch while mine jump with curiosity.
“Do tell,” I urge through a smile.
She exhales a deep breath and presses her lips into a thin line, picking at her nails. “Don’t judge me, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I assure her lightheartedly. My eyes flick to Gray, who watches her with a tiny indent wedged between his brows.
Interesting.
Her fingers trip over themselves as she bites down on her bottom lip and squeezes her eyes shut. “I slept with Griff,” she blurts out.
My jaw pops open while my brows rise to my hairline. “ Griff ?!”
“I said don’t judge me.” Marcella opens her eyes and blows out a tiny laugh.
“It just kind of…happened. After the second test, we were in a competition to see who had the better shot with a bow, and one thing led to another, and then wine got involved, and then…” She trails off, shrugging her shoulders, laughing softly.
“It’s probably nothing, but I had to tell someone. ”
I glance at Gray, who remains uncharacteristically expressionless.
I sigh quietly before sweeping my lips into a smile. “You two would make quite the lively pair, that’s for certain.”
She swats a hand at me and smiles wickedly. “Please. Nobody can keep up with my boisterous personality. I’m sure it’s just a fling.”
“Is that what you want it to be?”
Her eyes fall to her open palms, and she does not answer right away. “Am I an ignorant fool if I say I don’t know? ”
“No,” I assure her. “You’re not.”
Her lips twitch up at that, until they fall into a slight frown when she spots Gray rising from the bed and walking to the door. “And where are you going? We haven’t spilled all our juicy secrets yet.”
Gray smiles—the line tight and rigid, not fully reaching the corner of his mouth. “I’m supposed to be meeting a friend of mine before he departs back for our home kingdom. I told him I’d see him off.”
Marcella huffs, tugging her chin to the side. “Fine. Miss all the fun.”
I watch Gray closely. I know him like the back of my hand, and I certainly know when he’s lying. Still, I smile at him. “Give Klytis my best.”
He nods, the gesture clipped. “I will.”
And then he departs, leaving Marcella and me to our own devices once more.
Marcella clicks her tongue at the door. “His loss.”
I laugh softly. “Marcella, how long was Gray here before I got in? He mentioned he came right after Klytis told him about his encounter with me, but that was around sunset. I didn’t get back until sunrise,” I point out.
Marcella inspects her nails. “You’ve got the timeline correct. He arrived at sunset and was here all night until you got in. He pestered me all night.”
I tilt my head, seeing her as if in a new light. The smudge of color under her bright, cobalt eyes, the disheveled hair, the extra bit of rasp in her voice. “Did either of you sleep?”
She looks up from her nails and arches a brow. “No,” she answers dryly. “He likes to talk. A lot.”
A helpless smile sweeps across my lips, a laugh echoing behind my words. “And what is it you two stayed up all night talking about?”
She shrugs—the gesture suspiciously casual. “You know, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Nothing crazy. Though, I am now fully aware of how much of a history buff he truly is.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Glad I’m no longer alone in that knowledge.”
She narrows her eyes on me a fraction, watching me for a long moment. I simply grin at her, my heart laughing with amusement.
“What?” she asks, her eyes narrowing further.
I shrug my shoulders. “Nothing,” I say through my smile. “Nothing at all.”
I don’t meddle, and I certainly don’t plan on starting now.
They’ll figure it out themselves.
Her gaze lingers on me a few seconds longer.
But eventually, she falls back onto her bed and sighs.
“Well, one thing is for sure—he has a lot to learn if he wants to participate in any more of our conversations. I mean really,” she drops her voice into a grumble, “leaving mid-conversation is just rude.”
“Yes,” I agree through a quiet laugh, though for perhaps a different reason entirely. “He has a lot to learn, indeed.”