8. Let’s just blame it on the cold #4
It felt wrong in so many ways, and not just because I’d assumed I would end up in some half-dilapidated broom closet meant for the guests you never wanted to have visit again.
“Who was this all for?” I asked.
The king seemed taken aback. “It’s for you, for the time being, and ongoing, should you choose to stay.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” I ran my fingers over lacquered whorls carved into the trim of a table in the entry.
“Who was this all for? Before me. Because I don’t believe for a second you pulled all of this—” I gestured to the room at large, “—out of thin air just for me, your prisoner, whom you hadn’t spoken with until yesterday.
So I’ll ask you again, King Maksym. Who was this all for? ”
“Oh, I like her,” Eilir chirped as they zipped by, plunking down atop a dressing table.
Maksym flashed me a look that was all displeasure as he carefully said, “What are you getting at, Miss Wynn?”
I shrugged and followed the sprite, stifling my groan as I sank onto the foot of the bed. I caught a glimmer of my reflection in the vanity mirror and quickly ignored the frazzled mess of my hair.
“I’m just wondering if you’ve got a habit of trying to marry your prisoners. Maybe a long line of dead wives I should know about.” I flashed him a sweet smile. “All in the name of making an informed decision, as you put it.”
Maksym looked like he wasn’t sure if he would prefer to high-tail it out of the room or come over and fight me. “This room belonged to someone else a very long time ago, but they were not my prisoner, or my wife, or any combination thereof. And that is all that I will say on the matter.”
That was more than I thought he’d entertain me with.
If I could trust him, that left two plausible options and a third stretch.
A sister or his mother, perhaps, though I had to wonder if he’d had a hand in killing them too, seeing as they didn’t seem to be a current part of the picture. I supposed the room could have housed an old lover, but that seemed less likely.
“Alright.” I gave the plush duvet beneath my hands a testing squeeze. “So I’m supposed to, what, just sit in here for the next few days by myself and mull over my fate? I noticed there weren’t any guards on our way in here, so does that mean I’m free to wander, or…?”
Maksym gave me an unnerving smile.
“Just because you didn’t see any guards does not mean there aren’t any protecting every entrance and exit to this room, Miss Wynn. You are still a prisoner, remember?”
I opened and closed my mouth before sighing. “Okay, so that’s a no on the wandering. What am I supposed to do then? Just sit here?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Well, you can take today for yourself, and I will send Eilir to fetch you for dinner. Sleep if you want, or stare longingly out the window for all I care. It’s your day. But do us all a favor and take another tonic, and bathe before dinner, will you?”
As a wince pulled across my face—there was no denying the ripeness of my body as I stewed through feverish sweats—Eilir zipped right into my line of sight.
“If you need anything,” they said, “just give this three rings, and I will be here.”
They reached into the air between us and pulled a tiny, slim-handled golden bell out of fucking nowhere.
I gaped as I took the bell and laid it out in my palm.
Inside the domed base was an iridescent-green crystal, suspended by a thread of gold.
The entire surface of the bell and its handle, which wasn’t much bigger than my thumb, was engraved with vines, and the very tip tapered into a golden leaf.
The gold was warm, too, and hummed in a way no inanimate object should.
I was so far out of my element, it wasn’t even funny.
“Three rings?” I repeated, my voice a little raspy.
Eilir flashed me a grin full of sharp teeth and nodded. “Six if it’s a matter of life and death, but I sincerely hope you will not find—”
“Come now, Eilir,” Maksym interjected, a few paces away, and the sprite zipped right over to him. “Let’s leave Miss Wynn to her peace and quiet. Dinner will be here before she knows it, and… Oh. Wait a moment, I forgot.”
Maksym retraced his path as he reached into his pocket. “I believe I am in possession of some of your belongings.”
First, he pulled out a velvet satchel that was full of Frost the last I knew and set it on the dressing table.
An anticipatory knot formed in my stomach at the prospect of being able to lose myself, even a little, but Maksym retrieved another smaller pouch, giving it a thoughtful pause before he fished out its contents.
My chest tightened with such abruptness, I fought for my next breath.
My father’s crest necklace on its leather cord dangled from his pale-gray fingers. Before I’d even realized it, my hand was pressed to my chest, where that pendant had rested day in and day out for months.
Maksym set it beside my Frost and strode out of my room in silence, the buzzing hum of Eilir’s wings trailing away with him.
I tensed a little as the door clicked shut, but my eyes never once left that gold pendant and the promise of escape that lingered in the bag beside it.
Goddess, I hadn’t even asked him what fucking day it was.