Chapter 39 #2
“They’re both Elves, you know,” she growled. “Or has that ceased to be of importance to you?”
“What’s important is that Kaelan is on our side.
He has no designs on thieving the Crown or bringing the Lands under the auspices of the Throne.
Lavana has claimed her Prince and she has been here for the last seven years.
She defeated Alanna. Claiming Kaelan would strengthen your chances of not having to meet her in combat—”
“I will not break my word,” she said through her teeth. “Find him. Tie him up.”
She charged through the bushes, back towards the house, certain that she was right.
Sleeping with Kaelan while in her Shine was wrong, and claiming him out of the question. But she couldn’t help remembering that day at Eris’s . . . how overpowering his desire for her had been; how good it had felt to be touched by him; what he had said . . .
She rushed into the kitchen, where the brownie was a gray and brown blur zipping through the lamp light, cleaning and organizing and cooking all at once. Up the back stairs, she raced towards the west bedroom, her heart pounding.
Was Damion right? Had she been ignoring Kaelan?
Resisting him? Why? Because of Honey? Or Endreas?
Or because of how she’d felt when he’d died?
The hollowness had been overpowering. While she knew they stemmed from having his heart-place within her, it didn’t make the feelings she’d experienced any less real. Or any less terrifying.
Regardless, she cared too much for Kaelan to break her word.
When her Shine had burned out, maybe then, she could talk to him. Maybe then she could open herself to the possibility that something had changed between them beyond the influence of their instinctual attraction.
But the Shine was all instinct, primal and unforgiving. If she saw him now, there would be no conversation. Not until after the Shine had ended, which could be hours or days.
Fortunately, it seemed Flor had Kaelan occupied elsewhere in the house, because she didn’t see him.
Hurrying into the room, she pushed the door shut and leaned her back against it.
Though it had only been a short time since Meer had appeared, the wood floors shone.
The globes over the oil lamps on the walls glittered.
The four-poster bed was freshly turned down.
Only the faintest hint of mustiness hung under the aromas of lavender and sage, which were bubbling in a diffuser on the night table.
“Meer?” she called softly.
The brownie popped up before her, the lightest sheen of sweat on her brow.
“Your bath is through there,” Meer said, pointing towards an open archway. “I am quite busy acquiring new clothes—”
“Can you secure the doors and windows of this room?”
“Secure them?” Meer asked.
“Lock them. I’m in my Shine,” Magda said, holding out her softly glowing arms as evidence. “I don’t want any . . . stray Princes knocking down my door or breaking my windows.”
Meer’s nose wrinkled. “Whoever heard of a stray Prince?”
“I need to rest,” Magda said more strongly. “If Cae is allowed in here, I won’t sleep . . . possibly for days.”
Meer’s eyes widened. “That’s unacceptable. I’ll secure the entrances, but you’ll be locked in.”
Magda sagged. “That’s fine. Thank you. And will you do you me another favor?”
The brownie gave Magda a look that suggested she was already quite put-upon.
“I asked Damion to tie Kaela . . . Cae up with gorgon rope,” she said. “Please see that it’s done.”
“Why in the Lands would you—?”
“Because Cae has a very unusual ability to traverse the Shadow Realms, which he could do to enter my room. The gorgon rope can prevent him from doing so.”
Meer’s eyebrow lofted. “That is quite unusual. I will see that it is done, but you must see that you are bathed and in bed at once. I have a great many preparations ahead of me. I may not return to you unless you call for me.”
“That’s fine. Thank you.”
Meer gave her one last sour look and then disappeared.
Magda tried the door knob. It turned, but the door didn’t budge, not even a creak. She let out a long breath and then wandered into the bathroom.
Amorphous gray and blue-veined tiles covered the floors, the walls, the ceiling.
A deep tub carved of the same marble, native to the Eastern Cliffs, sat beneath a stained-glass river tableau.
Brownie-lights glowed, pulsing and ebbing through the glass in rippling blue and green ribbons, so that the room appeared submerged underwater.
Steam collected on the tri-fold mirrors above the sink and an aromatic blend of jasmine, honeysuckle, nutmeg, and cream filled the air—Rae oil.
Her own personal perfume blend, which she hadn’t smelled since she’d been exiled.
How Meer had discovered it in such a short time, Magda had no idea, but all at once, it brought tears to her eyes and unknotted the muscles in her shoulders.
Finally, she slid her knives into her shadow’s vault and peeled off her clothes.
After a long soak and a good scrub with the salt and oils left on the ledge by the tub, she wrapped herself in a plush robe that had been folded neatly on the dressing stool.
The Shine was full on her now, and the mirrors weren’t the only things that were misted.
She chewed her cheek, fighting the temptation to call Meer and tell her to remove the spell from the doors.
To hell with promises. The thought that Kaelan was somewhere in the house, tied up, curled her toes and set her heart purring.
But, as she combed back her wet hair, she managed to push aside the urge, though she ached from head-to-toe to be touched, to be kissed, to be taken.
Locked in her room though, she still had enough sense to remember why she had done so. Just so long as she remained alone . . .
Sinking down onto the bed, she planned to satisfy herself as much as she could and then sleep for as long as possible. Had she not been so weary, the Shine might’ve prevented her from sleeping, but the two pulled on each other. Without a Prince immediately present, sleep was winning out.
She drank some water, chewed a couple of sweet chamomile and peppermint drops, and allowed the burn of desire to slip over into the warm lull of sleepiness.
She drew back the covers, drowsy and prepared to have some very, very good dreams, when the scorching tension that had been sloughing away suddenly reasserted itself. Her fingers balled in the blankets as her breath caught.
In the corner of her eye, she saw the shadows shift.
Not now, please.
Endreas’s lips parted as though he’d been about to speak, but had forgotten what he was going to say. But it didn’t matter, because she wasn’t interested in conversation.