Chapter Thirty-Nine Xander #2
The next few days pass by quickly, and I’m commanded to stay by the king’s side.
I can’t risk giving him any reason to suspect my priorities are not with him and him alone, so I don’t argue that I need time to interrogate Siyala.
If anything, he seems to have forgotten about her completely, instead planning something that he only speaks to Simon about privately.
But I use any opportunity I can to plan Siyala’s escape, grabbing the ledgers I need to see when the next shifter ship is coming and managing the guard schedule so that it syncs up the way I want, placing my men near the dungeon exits in a few weeks’ time.
It’s inconspicuous, changes made gradually that should go unnoticed, and that at least provides a small bit of comfort.
I use Grayson to drop off letters to Siyala—where I explain why I haven’t been able to visit her. By the end of the week, my skin is crawling with the urge to see her, and I finally get the opportunity when King Dolian releases me for an hour while he attends a council meeting.
The dungeon is more full this week, and when I finally reach Siyala’s cell, I find her pacing, her hands nervously twisting in her tunic.
“It’s so loud,” she says when I get close to the bars, wary of the eyes on me.
“You’re going to have to pretend.” She nods in understanding as I unlock the door and pull it open, bracing herself for a fight. “Come on, shifter, it’s time to talk!”
She growls as my hand wraps around her arm, the contact sending a spark of warmth straight to my gut.
I had spent our nights apart tormented by her words, by the memory of her weight against me.
It was pathetic, really, the need that drove me to find release with my hand, wishing that it could have been hers.
But she deserves someone better than me, someone she can feel safe and protected with at all times.
“Let me go, you animal!” She hits against the armor at my chest as I drag her down the hall and towards the torture room, the fake fight continuing until we are both safe behind the closed door.
Releasing her immediately, I step back and run a hand through my hair. “I hate that we have to do that.”
“It’s worth it if it means you won’t get in trouble.” Her eyes run over my face, a tether pulling at my chest at the concern in her eyes. “You are alright?”
I nod, hands coming to my hips. “The king suspects nothing of Commander Miles’s death.”
“And the king’s advisor?”
I exhale roughly at the mention of Simon.
“I think he knows that I’m lying, but he doesn’t have a way to prove it.
Especially not with Miles gone. He shouldn’t be a problem for you anymore.
” I swallow the urge to tell her what the king had told me to do with Immie’s head.
How it was sent to Princess Rhea. It wasn’t that I wanted to hide it from her.
It was that I knew she already blamed herself for not being able to save Immie.
I didn’t see the point in telling her that the king had dealt yet another blow to the princess at the innkeeper’s expense.
Staring at each other, I feel sadness creeping in along the edges of my mind.
What I would give to spend a day with her that wasn’t under threat of death if we were discovered.
I want to know her—know what lies beneath the masks that we both wear for survival.
But the reality of where we are snaps me back to the present, so I clear my throat and look away, striding to the hidden door.
“I only have an hour,” I say, pulling it open and reaching my hand out for hers.
Together, we make our way to the secret room, a fresh batch of supplies lining the adjacent wall.
“What is in there?” Siyala asks, already heading towards the basin for a bath.
“Clothing and shoes,” I tell her, and she looks at me over her shoulder.
“Shoes?”
I arch my brow back at her, a playful smile tugging at my lips.
“You do remember what those are, yes?” At her flat expression, I chuckle, grabbing the bag and pulling out the provisions.
“She had to guess on the size,” I say, speaking of another maid, Erica, as I set the clothes by the tub.
Though Tienne hadn’t gotten worse, neither had she gotten better, and she now only worked a few hours in the morning before she required rest. Siyala grins, and she leans over to drag her fingers through the water. “Thank you, guardsman.”
She bathes quickly, and then she eats the small meal left by Grayson, forcing me to have a few bites so that she does not eat alone.
We speak a little of Princess Rhea. I tell her that I haven’t heard anything new, and she recounts the time the princess asked her if she knew anything about men as they sat on the balcony of the tower.
Her face takes on a softer look as she speaks of the princess, and I, again, admit to myself that I don’t view the princess as the threat I once did.
That, at some point, the fear that she would inflict harm on this kingdom had been replaced with the terror that the king would inflict harm on the female in front of me.
The hour passes far too quickly, and I miss the warmth of her hand in mine when we leave the tunnel to bring her back to her cell.
“Until next time, guardsman,” she says, staring up at me through her full lashes, a row of iron bars separating us.
“Until next time, shifter.”