18. Feeder Wing
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Feeder Wing
“Miss Nadien!” The shout wrenched me from deep slumber, shocking me upright.
I scanned my surroundings. Cold air touched my breasts, pebbling my nipples. I yanked the blanket up to cover myself, scanning the space.
Lady Drusilla stood at the end of the bed, her arms stiffly at her sides. Disapproval flashed across her features, and it was gone just as quickly. Eliza stood near the doorway, her head lowered, but I did not miss the twitch of her eyebrows before she smoothed her expression.
Exhaustion weighed my limbs down, and even holding the fur to my chest caused my arms to pinch.
“Get dressed,” Lady Drusilla commanded. “I shall await you in the foyer.”
I rolled to the side and tossed my legs over the edge of the bed, hugging the blanket to my chest. A huge mistake. Soreness washed over every inch of my limbs. My thighs, my hips, my calves, my neck; all of me hurt. I took a step and stopped with a hiss.
I wanted nothing more than to return to the bed to hide and perhaps rot for the rest of my existence.
Embarrassment forced my gaze to remain averted after a peek into their faces told me they knew exactly what had happened last night.
After tucking the blanket under my arms, I reached for my dress, pooled at the side of the bed.
As I held it up, the slice across the bodice showed how easily Lord Draven had torn through it—as if the fabric was nothing more than parchment.
It split right through the midsection where my breasts were.
There was no possible way this would remain on my body.
Perhaps if I could get my hands on a sewing kit, I could make it close to new.
“I placed a fresh dress in the bathing chamber,” Eliza drawled from behind me as I ran my finger over the ragged edges of the tear.
I kept my spine straight and carefully set the dress aside.
Keeping my head raised, I tugged the fur blanket around my shoulders and went to the bathing area.
Each step was as if I waded through mud.
Upon entering the bathing chamber, I found a fresh sapphire dress hanging on the hook beside his robe.
I replaced it with the blanket and donned it. None of the mess from his bath remained in sight. No cloth on the floor, no soap bar upon the side table; each item had been carefully returned to its place.
I struggled to reach for the final sashes at my back. Last time Lord Draven had done the bit that was not within my reach.
His hands gripped my hips, thumbs stroking the insides of my thighs.
A tremble coursed down my spine, just a kiss of the pleasure I had suffered at his hands.
My plan did not call for this softening.
I could not. My pulse picked up, and the discomfort between my legs grew.
I squeezed them together, and all that did was make me hiss a breath out from the sensitivity and soreness.
For one as inexperienced as I was, I doubted the length of lovemaking from the eve before was the smartest course for my body. Because I felt every moment of it.
Shaking my head, I huffed in exasperation and marched out of the bedroom. Eliza was in the middle of changing the bedding, a pile of fresh blankets folded at the edge of the mattress. So she was the one to clean his chamber.
“Can I bother you for some help?”
She stopped mid reach and raised an eyebrow at me. I turned to show her my back and pointed.
Eliza approached with a purse of displeasure.
I would rather take her help than not, so I kept my opinion of her exasperation to myself. With efficient, quick moves, she tightened the sashes until my breasts were secured where they were supposed to be.
“Why did you not tell them I had a part in you being attacked?”
Her whispered question startled me.
I was not sure exactly how to respond. I cleared my throat and finally said, “There is no need for more death.”
Lord Draven crushing a skull under his boot and reanimating a body had been so intense, I did not think to accuse her.
I . . . lusted for the monster that did that.
“Even if you do not feel the loyalty to a fellow redblood, I do.”
Her inhale was sharp, and her wraithling chirped. Instead of waiting around, I turned and thanked her. Having Lady Drusilla wait any longer would do me no good, especially since I wanted to understand where everything was to best get access to the Archives.
I left her as she stared at all the bedding.
I exited and almost collided with Officer Egan who had been waiting outside the door. A red tint painted the bridge of his nose. An external burn from the sunlight beaming on him, it added slight freckling across the base of his nose.
“Miss Amara,” he murmured.
I stuttered to a stop, lifting my surprised gaze to his. This was the first time someone had addressed me by my name and not as ‘mortal’ or ‘redblood. An odd yearning crowded my chest, spilling from the bloom Lord Draven had caused. It craved hearing my name from his arrogant lips.
“I am to escort you.” He motioned me forward.
I gave a half-hearted smile and nodded, continuing forward while he kept a few paces behind me. I descended the curving staircase fashioned with an iron base. It seemed much easier when Lord Draven was dragging me up the spiral.
Lord Draven . . .
His gliding length thrusting with a pace so encompassing I could not think. My body had been touched by a creature of such cruelty, and I could not cease thinking of him. Or the way his body undulated over me, moonlight playing along his pale skin.
I followed the path down the hall, toward the second set of stairs that descended to the foyer.
His breaths sawing from his scarlet-painted lips.
It was the first I had seen him so unreserved, so impassioned. His touch had ingrained itself into my skin.
I forced my shoulders to straighten. This was not the appropriate time to be thinking of all the delicious sensations he had wrung from my body.
“Where am I going?”
“I’m sure Lady Drusilla will explain it all to you,” he replied noncommittally.
I bit back my sigh. In truth, I had not anticipated a response.
Reaching the final steps led to Lady Drusilla waiting with that same serene look on her face. I fell into step beside her, waiting for her to speak, but she did not. Instead she guided me to a carriage before the base of the Citadel.
The officer, a younger man in a simple uniform, lacking the gold embroidery, opened the carriage door and held his hand out for Lady Drusilla. Once she was on, he held the door for me, but he did not reach out.
He seemed hesitant and awkward, as if not knowing how to proceed. I gripped the edge of the carriage from his other side and climbed onto the footboard. A hand wound under my arm and hoisted me.
My eyes clashed with Officer Egan. With a slight tip of his head, I was wrenched out of my shock and quickly hopped into the carriage, sitting across from Lady Drusilla.
The circular entrance was shut and left us in dimmed light coming in from the mesh curtains.
I had been in this carriage mere dawnlight rotations ago, but it felt much longer.
The carriage jostled as it was guided through a dip, and it wrenched me from heading down the path I should steer well clear of.
What kind of proper woman was I lusting for that man?
Propriety . . . and to think I used to be fixated on the subject. That was when I believed I might find a peaceful life as Miriam’s lady’s maid.
Lady Drusilla had not spoken a word, but a flash of black stone caught my attention from far off in the distance.
“Are we going to the House of Lords?” I asked, keeping the urgency at bay.
“Yes, His Highness believed it was time you were transferred to where you belong.” The last three words in the phrase had an extra emphasis.
Nerves spiked, and as much as I desired to continue asking my questions, I did not have the option to seem so anxious. The Resistance’s spies had been correct. I was now where I needed to be to find the Articles.
The carriage began to slow.
I settled on arranging the pleats of the skirt of the dress, fiddling for all intents and purposes. The House of Lords was where I needed to be to get to the Archives.
But why had Lord Draven said this was where I belonged?
The horses neighed, and the carriage halted. I hopped out after Lady Drusilla and took Egan’s hand.
His gentle grip did nothing to my insides, not the way Lord Draven’s had. I released him and caught up to her as she climbed the steps to the Grand Hall. A thrill quickened my pace. I let out a breath and slowed. No need to get ahead of myself.
The hall seemed much more cavernous than in my memory. The dais where the iron throne rested loomed in the distance, sunlight beaming through the silver-framed windows that flanked it.
At the end of the path to the throne, my nerves sharpened. They had Hollows near here in that damp pit I had been tossed down in. Lady Drusilla turned to the right, opposite the pit, through wide double doors that reached halfway to the ceiling.
Before reaching them, they creaked and opened.
Two guards braced the doors as they held them.
I followed her into a hallway without windows.
I squinted, attempting to make out anything of note, but it was a simple, dark hall with a rug lining the middle of the onyx tile. It seemed to stretch never-endingly.
Egan jogged past and propped open the door for us.
Panes framed in iron lined the hall, allowing me to see outward. Beautiful, multi-colored blooms adorned what I could see of the garden, and in one section, it led inside into a labyrinth of flowers framed by hedges.
Far off, columns stretched upward, bracing the other side. The design continued in a circular manner with the garden maze in the middle.
I slowed, eyes wide as I studied.
The circled area was closed off by the building, an outside garden within the House of Lords.
“Miss Amara.” Egan’s voice pulled me from my admiration.