Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Reave insists I spend the morning recuperating in his room, so I remain there long after he slips away to tend to his royal duties.
Clean clothing is delivered, and the servants who bring it linger, insisting on helping me put myself back together.
They hardly speak as they work, but the looks they exchange with one another say more than enough.
By the time they finally leave me alone, they appear close to bursting with the need to shout about what they’ve just witnessed.
Who knows what sort of gossip they’re going to spread about the latest woman to spend the night in the king’s chambers.
But I doubt it’s going to make my life in this palace any easier.
The king himself checks on me occasionally, though he never admits this is what he’s doing; instead, he’ll go to his desk, or to his wardrobe, or wherever else, claiming he’s forgotten something and only came back briefly to grab it.
He’s either the most forgetful ruler in existence, or he’s looking for an excuse to come see me.
Not that I blame him for wanting to keep an eye on things.
There’s no way he trusts me enough to leave me alone in here for too long.
He shouldn’t trust me—considering that every time he’s gone for more than a few minutes, I’m up scavenging his room for anything interesting or useful that I can find.
Unfortunately, there’s little to uncover, aside from a few odd letters that make no sense without more context; he may be a fool to leave me alone in his room, but he’s not a big enough fool to leave damning evidence of any kind, it seems.
It’s disappointing, but at least I’ve gotten this close. At least he actually talked to me at length last night. And I managed not to accidentally expose my breasts again.
So, a productive time, all in all.
I can’t deny that I feel well-rested, either, despite the awkward sleeping arrangements. And whatever remedies he gave me last night, and again this morning…they’re working. My head barely hurts. The all-over soreness I’ve gotten used to waking up with is more muted, too.
My strength only grows as the morning presses on, and I find myself eager to leave.
But my escape attempt is thwarted by the guards outside.
A servant appears shortly thereafter, offering a platter of tea and cakes and informing me that I’m expected to remain here until the king has a chance to discuss some important matters with me.
Resigned, I move to a bright alcove jutting off the main bedroom.
Its walls are made of glass, and it overlooks a small section of the creek that winds around the palace grounds.
In the distance, the city of Lucindris unfolds in neat, orderly layers, the sun painting it in shades of rose and amber.
It’s a beautiful view. Stepping fully into the space makes me feel like I’m being transported to an entirely different world. A softer, warmer one.
I sit at the small table here, sipping tea, using the moment to try and sort through everything that happened yesterday.
To my surprise, it’s not the conversation Reave and I had about magic and the Flamebound and everything else that jumps to the forefront of my mind.
It should be what I’m focusing on.
But instead, my mind drifts to thoughts of his hands against my body. His careful, soothing touch. A traitorous heat floods through me as I remember his voice. His concern.
Easy. You’re okay. Just don’t move.
I grip the Ashwalker mark on my arm, giving my head a little shake.
He cared for me for one night.
That doesn’t erase all the things he and his family have done.
And everyone knows that the King of Mouren is a manipulative bastard, anyway; whatever his reasons were for taking care of me, I know the majority of them were self-serving.
Which is why I’m not entirely surprised when he brings me lunch, sits down across from me, and bluntly says, “I have a favor to ask.”
I regard him warily, reaching for a slice of warm bread from the platter of food he’s set between us.
“A favor?” I repeat. “Or do you mean an addendum to our already agreed-upon contract?”
He settles back in his chair. “…We can negotiate, I suppose.”
“I’m listening, then.”
He looks to that distant view of his city for a moment before continuing. “Word has already spread about the fires you summoned yesterday. The inhabitants of this palace are not known for their ability to keep secrets.”
I think of those servants from earlier. “I’ve noticed. I’m guessing they all already know I spent the night with you, too.”
“There might be some…excitement spreading through the halls, in regard to that.”
I pause in the middle of buttering the bread. “Excitement?”
“They see it as a positive sign that you’re…yielding to me.” He casually reaches for an apple from the platter.
I grip the butter knife tighter, barely resisting the urge to stab his hand. “Is that why you insisted on bringing me to your room? So you could make people believe you had control over me?”
“No. I told you last night: I did it to protect you. This is just a potential added bonus.”
The knife shakes in my hand.
“And besides,” he adds, dryly, “anyone who spends more than a moment in our presence will quickly realize I have no control over you at all.”
I let the knife clatter to the plate, sinking back into my chair. I want to resist the entire lunch offering out of principle, but once again, the bread proves too tempting, so I keep it in my hands and continue to pick at it.
“But the fact remains that it makes them trust you more when they see us together like this,” he goes on, while I reluctantly nibble the bread.
“And it gives them hope that you and your dragon might truly be bound to me and my crown, eventually. Hope that they—and my entire city—could use after these latest attacks. Everyone is on edge.”
“What exactly do you want from me?”
“It’s simple: Attend the Sun Harvest Feast at my side.”
“So that you can add fuel to the rumors? So your people can make up wild stories about how we’re in love, or destined to be betrothed, or whatever else—”
“It doesn’t have to be that serious,” he says, flatly. “A hint of affection will suffice; it will fuel their imaginations and fill their needs well enough.”
I shake my head. “This is a ridiculous proposal, and you are a ridiculous man.”
“I’ve been called far worse.”
“I know you have—by me, among others.”
“That’s true; last night I was vile and murderous. Now I’m simply ridiculous.” A hint of a smile crosses his face. “So we’re halfway to affection already, easy as that.”
I briefly consider throwing my bread at him, but I can’t bring myself to waste it like that.
“Two days until the event. You will, of course, be granted a break from your training in the meantime, so you can be well rested for our little ruse.”
“So, my options are to continue suffering in the arena, or to suffer at your side as your pretend queen-to-be.”
“If it’s any consolation,” he says, getting to his feet, “suffering at my side will also come with gifts. Drinks. Dinner. Dancing.” He eyes the bread clutched in my hand. “All the bread you can eat, if that sways you in any way.”
I pop the last bite into my mouth, chewing it aggressively while I continue to glare at him.
“Give me your answer by tomorrow,” he says, turning to leave.
When I finally escape the king’s bedroom, it’s late afternoon, and the first thing I do is go look for Briar. It takes a bit of searching, but I eventually find her near the royal stables, visiting Garnet and Midnight.
I feel somewhat guilty at the sight of my mother’s old mare; it’s been days since I’ve visited her—though I know she’s been well taken care of since she was brought here.
These stables are far warmer and more comfortable than anything she ever stayed in back home; it probably feels like a vacation to her.
Briar spots me and nearly trips over a feed bucket in her haste to close the space between us. “I was starting to worry about you,” she says, wrapping me in a brief, crushing embrace.
We spend a moment spoiling our horses with a few more treats and rubs, then she hooks her arm around mine and leads me outside.
Once we’re out of earshot of all the stablehands, she leans in and says, “Firstly: I’m glad you’re alive. Apparently, the palace’s little event venue went up in flames during your training yesterday?”
I wince. “I don’t remember most of it. Was it really that bad?”
“Never mind that, because secondly: I desperately, immediately need to know what you were doing last night.”
I swallow a groan. “I’m guessing the rumors about me and the king have already reached you.”
“They’ve reached everyone, I’m fairly certain.” She keeps one arm locked around mine and marches me toward the palace, her brow furrowed in contemplation. I can tell she’s attempting to approach the subject delicately—a rarity from her.
“So it’s true?” she asks. “You spent the night in his room?”
“Only because he refused to let me leave.”
She cuts her eyes toward me, alarmed.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds, he was just…protecting me.”
She lets out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a choke.
“There were more rebel attacks close to the palace last night, allegedly.”
“That’s true,” she says, frowning. “I gathered as much from conversations I overheard. And everyone in the palace seems on edge still, even though I think Mouren’s soldiers dealt with things well enough.”
We’re silent for a minute, the same edginess settling over us.
But, in true Briar form, she ultimately steers the conversation toward far less serious territory, a sly little grin spreading across her face as she says, “We keep no secrets between us, so you know what I have to ask you next.”
“…I do, unfortunately.”
She clears her throat dramatically. “Arowyn Vhale, did you actually sleep in the same bed with the King of Mouren?”
My cheeks heat. “Yes, but—”
“Yet another bold strategy in your quest for answers.”