CHAPTER 17 #2
The general doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink or say a word as Awri leads me around the corner and out of his view.
I wish I could say that the moment I’m out of his sight I shrug off his comment.
I’m strong in more ways than he knows, and it shouldn’t bother me.
He didn’t say anything I don’t already know.
Nothing about me is enough to tempt the king.
“Did Xey say something to you?” Awri asks.
I hadn’t noticed her eyes on me. I give her a small smile and shake my head.
“Not at all. I just didn’t sleep well,” I say, which reminds me, “The night we spent at the cottage, the general made a tea to help me sleep. I’ve been meaning to ask about the herbs he used.”
“Xeyvian made you tea?”
Somehow, I think she might seem less shocked if I told her he’d drugged it. Her lack of knowledge about the incident is both disappointing and relieving. I need to find an alternative to the dwindling supply in my small pouch, but it’s good to know that she wasn’t an accomplice to my sedation.
I decide, for the time being, it’s best she doesn’t know. There is every chance she’d take the general’s side, and it would only drive a wedge between us.
“He did,” I say, trying my best to smile appreciatively. “I’ll have to ask him for the recipe.”
And I will. Maybe.
My steps slow when Awri leads me into an enormous room with a tall domed ceiling painted in ivy and starlight.
The ivy twines down the walls, cascading into a dense plethora of leafy ferns containing broken beams of moonlight.
An array of colorful eyes are painted among the ferns.
I can only assume they are meant to represent the fea.
It’s as if I’ve stumbled into the middle of a lush and wild landscape the likes of which I’ve never seen.
“You like it,” she says, beaming, “I can tell.”
“It’s incredible,” I say, my voice low in reverence.
“I’m glad you approve. There are a number of rooms to choose from, but considering our theme, I think this is the perfect place to host the event.”
She picks a string of fabric swatches from a table at the center of the room, and I try not to cringe. No doubt she’ll want opinions on tablecloths and napkins, followed by a request for my opinion on lighting and music. Today can’t be over soon enough.
Hours spent planning drag on, feeling like days, until Kishek comes to remind Awri to break for a meal.
The male has always been quiet compared to the others, but today he’s surrounded by an aura of lethargy and dark circles hollow out his eyes.
My friend schools her face well as we follow him toward a small table set with a late lunch, but her brow creases with concern that she’s unable to hide whenever she looks at him.
They dismiss me when I ask if everything is all right, explaining that a matter of the crown kept him up long into the night.
My spine tingles under the weight of the possibilities, and I find myself wondering what the male’s role is at court.
They must be more than close friends to the king.
They must be vital in some other way. Another question for Felias.
After the sun is fully settled beyond the mountains and no dusky light remains in the evening sky, Awri walks me to my chambers, leaving me with a simple goodnight. I’ve never been so tired. I feel like I’ve gone to battle with tea flavors and party favors, and I never stood a chance.
Prepared to fend off the sprites and fall into bed without any preparation, I let myself into my room.
A small fire crackles in the hearth and the lamps have been dimmed but the sisters are nowhere to be seen.
A shiver rattles my spine and my senses heighten.
I swipe a sharp blade from a nearby desk.
It’s meant to open letters, but it will serve the same purpose as a dagger should I have need of it.
Rising on the balls of my feet, I stalk silently toward the washroom and then the closet.
I’m not sure what I expect to find and maybe it’s just the sprites’ absence, but something feels out of place.
With my letter opener-turned-dagger fisted above my heart, ready to strike, I walk back into the main room.
A small knot forms in my stomach when my eyes land on a bundle sitting at the foot of my bed.
There is no note to explain their presence, but I find that I am not in need of a letter to explain who left them. It’s a simple pair of black leather pants, most certainly procured from a uniform.
Perhaps it’s his way of apologizing or maybe he simply prefers me covered up. It makes no difference to me. It’s the closest thing I’ve had to my leathers since leaving home and even if it’s meant as a slight, I’ll take them gladly.
I let go of the notion I have about falling into bed.
My eyes move from the pants to the makeshift dagger at my side.
The night is still young, and there is enough time left before dawn to accomplish something for myself.
Something more than party planning and socializing. Something that means … well, something.
I rush to my closet and change into the darkest dress I find.
It is a true black, as dark as the sea on a stormy day.
I pull on the leather pants, folding the excess bunching at my ankles.
They’re obviously made for a male, someone taller but thankfully lean.
They fit like a glove along the curve of my legs and when I cinch them at the waist the feeling is nearly the same as the day I’d been given my first pair. I want to squeal.
I drape my dark cloak over my shoulders, pull up the hood, and swing open one of the tall windows lining my room.
I’d been given a room with a view of the forest on the western side of the palace, and I thank the stars for my luck as I crawl out the window, setting my feet on the wildflower lawns.
A ground floor room isn’t ideal for defending against a siege, but in this case, it is perfect for my secret endeavors in the dark.
I manage to skirt the guards patrolling the grounds with ease.
It occurs to me that with knowledge of the fea’s existence, I should be more wary of trudging through a dark forest in a strange land.
But if there is a forest that is safe to traverse it will be the one closest to the palace.
I doubt they let malicious fea run wild in these woods.
It doesn’t take long to find what I’m looking for. A young birch tree sits amidst a starlit grove, a freshly broken branch hanging at its side. I wrench the branch free, knot the panels of my dress below my hip, and settle in on a small boulder in the center of a clearing.
The small blade carves into the soft flesh of the branch like butter.
I make quick work of it, every stroke of my blade shaping and refining it until it no longer resembles a sword; it becomes one.
A breeze coils at the base of my neck, licking chilly tendrils along my jaw.
The treetops sway and I can hear the noise of the sea in their fluttering leaves.
Thick shafts of moonlight break through the forest beyond the clearing and I’m reminded of the domed room with fea eyes.
A loud snap from the dark woods beside me draws my attention. Could be nothing. Another snap and a rustling of leaves brings me to my feet.
I lean the toy sword against the rock and flip the dagger in my hand, studying the weight of it. The noise gets louder, nearer. Whatever it is, it’s big. I shift my stance, widening my feet, preparing to be charged.
I’m not entirely relieved when a tall horse breaks from the edge of the forest with the general astride, but I exhale a deep breath and my muscles relax. I might have preferred the wild fea my mind conjured to the male holding my gaze across the clearing, his lips a thin line of displeasure.
I don’t owe him an explanation, though I have no doubt he will demand one shortly. I reassure myself that I haven’t done anything wrong and retake my seat on the boulder, continuing to carve the finishing touches into the hilt of the toy sword.
Dismounting, he ties his horse to a tree before striding across the grove to study my project.
“Why did you sneak out of your room?” His voice is soft, and if I didn’t know any better, I might think he’s concerned.
“What makes you think I snuck out?”
He scoffs as if my question is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.
“The guards would have told me if they’d seen you leave,” he says.
“Then how did you know I left?” I bait him for the knowledge of his reply.
I was sure I wasn’t seen but his presence here tells me otherwise. If there is some other way in which the male can be made aware of my location, I want to know what it is.
“That is beside the point,” he barks into the night.
Damn.
“I didn’t realize I was to be confined to my rooms without an escort.
Perhaps there is a small book you’d like me to sign whenever I leave my room, so that I can log my whereabouts?
” I regret the suggestion as soon as it slips past my lips.
I don’t want to give him any ideas he might actually consider using.
“You are not a prisoner,” he says, and his voice holds an edge, all hint of softness gone. I force myself not to crack a smile as his temper shows itself. “You are free to come and go from the palace as you please.”
I know this, but I also knew it would bristle the male that he felt he had to defend himself, and after his comments earlier this morning I no longer feel the need to placate his ego.
“Then why are you here?” I ask, blowing a curled wood shaving from the carved hilt.
“I should have told you earlier to make yourself at home at the palace. I intended to.” He shifts his weight and sighs. “There were also things I wish I hadn’t said. Things I hadn’t meant.” His voice sharpens in annoyance. “Would you stop whittling that stick and look at me?”