Lynx
I was holding on by a very slim thread.
This was because the tour of the livable parts of the citadel went very fast because there were not very many livable parts.
The lounge we’d spent time in. The dining room, ditto with the time.
A small family room with a slouchy sectional and the only screen in the place.
An even smaller study where Tanyn told me he’d had his lessons via holo before he’d turned sixteen and was sent off to a military academy.
His bedroom and bath, his mother’s bedroom and bath.
An archaic kitchen that had archaic apparatus in it that I supposed you used to cook or store food (the only things I recognized were the outmoded Cook-Companion, Chill-Cabinet, Bev-Buddy and the four-seater kitchen table in the middle).
And we didn’t tour them, but Tanyn told me Mangold and Zyra had a set of rooms where they lived.
The rest of it, and there was a lot of the rest of it, was shut off. Bone-cold. Dark. Dusty. Derelict. The furniture and paintings on the walls covered in white sheets or left standing to petrify in the deep freeze.
Tanyn had shared the structure was sound. All the rooms had been wired for electricity and tech.
But there were vast areas of this stately castle that were unused, and the areas that were, weren’t many.
I understood I was privileged to grow up in a mansion and have the means from even a young age to explore widely, not only the city, but the entire planet, on holidays with my parents, then my friends, then on my own.
I could not imagine having essentially six rooms and a frozen tundra being the extent of my world.
A prince and supposed-to-be-then-was future king?
Outrageous.
I was furious his father put him and his mother through this. His father, who lived in a palatial castle and wore the crown that owned numerous other properties, all of them opulent.
I knew their treasury was healthy, mostly because the media of Sky’s Edge made such a big deal about how Arnaud was squandering it.
And it was becoming nearly impossible not to let my demonic fury loose as Tanyn moved me through the space.
We were in a solar that fed from what used to be the king’s and queen’s bedchambers, the sun having beat back the gray of the day, so when Tanyn opened the dilapidated shutters, the room filled with light.
And I could easily see how amazing this room could be if it was cleaned up, better insulated, and furnished.
“It’s up to you,” he began. “But in order to give this place a part of you, I’d be happy if you’d take on the project of deciding on furniture and décor when the time comes. The only thing I’d ask is that you make it fit with the rest of the citadel.”
This was not my aesthetic at all.
I took after my mom in a way. I liked streamline. Uncluttered. Though I tended toward a classic style rather than an ultra-modern one.
Even so, this offer gave me a private little thrill.
And that was good, because it tamped down a little of my fury.
“Would you require approval of my choices?” I queried.
His vivid blue eyes captured mine. “Dazzle me.”
I was already dazzled, by those eyes, but I lost his attention when he pulled his Palm out of the back pocket of his jeans, looked at it, then back to me.
“Your boots have been secured. They’re sorting transport and some other things Zyra said she’d like, and all of it should be here in an hour and a half.”
I supposed they took every opportunity to top things up when a transport was going to arrive.
“Are they stuck here?” I asked.
“Sorry, what?” he asked in return, shoving his Palm back in his pocket.
“Mangold and Zyra. Do they have to wait for stuff to get here when things get low or…how does that work?”
“Mostly, they order what they need, and it’s sent to them within hours of them asking.”
What was left unsaid in that was that was how it was now that he was king.
“But there’s craft here that can get to the mainland,” he concluded.
That was good to know.
However.
“Where is it?”
“It’s under the landing platform.”
Ah.
Of course.
He closed the sun off by shutting the shutters, and we resumed our tour.
We were at the top of a tower, both of us standing side by side at a window (that was broken, by the way), staring at an amazing view, when he pulled his Palm out again.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered as he studied the display. He looked to me. “I have to deal with this. Do you want to wander the rest yourself? There’s not much left.”
I nodded.
“Can you get back to the lounge on your own?” he asked.
One could say the citadel had not been designed in any organized way.
The halls (such as they were) were narrow and windy.
The stairwells, the same. I was sure the design was strategic, in case of attack and the enemy managed to gain access to the inside.
If they didn’t know the layout, they could easily be cornered or ambushed, while inhabitants could fight back, hide or escape.
But I still figured I could manage to get back to the lounge on my own.
Thus, I nodded again.
He did too, just once, before he left me at the window, Hurley, who’d been taking the tour with us, following him.
I did not want to be disappointed he didn’t even drop a kiss on my cheek before he went.
But I was disappointed.
I turned to the window and asked, “What’s happening to me?”
Without Tanyn there, taking my mind from my anger with offers of a free hand at interior design in a magnificent citadel by the sea, as I wandered the rest of the space (unintentionally returning to two rooms where I’d already been), my fury rose.
So, by the time I got back to the lounge, I walked right out onto the balcony, got blasted by the cold air, ignored it (because I needed it to cool me down and sharpen my focus away from my anger), at the same time I ignored the glorious view spread out before me, and pulled out my own Palm.
I needed a conference comm with my gals.
I needed to hash out what I’d learned about Tanyn’s mom’s death.
All the things he’d said to me in the dining room.
How it appeared he’d grown up happy and loved.
The nearly uncontrollable anger I was experiencing at witnessing his father’s calculated neglect (I mean, he holoed into his school studies, not able to interact with his fellow students, make friends, participate in activities).
I needed to figure out what I was feeling.
Because yes, I had to admit, I found him interesting (very interesting).
And yes, it felt nice that it was clear he was attracted to me because I was me.
Also yes, I very much wanted to do more with him in his bed than sleep, which in turn was going to make it virtually impossible to be crap in bed.
Further yes, to my stunned surprise, I found his constant calm demeanor appealing and was starting to recognize how well it worked with my fiery one.
Last, yes, I was more and more drawn to him the more time I spent with him.
However, none of this negated the fact that I did not want to live in Abyssinia, even if living there meant living in a royal abode.
I did not want to be queen. I wanted to do what I was doing, managing an art gallery.
I did not want to leave my family or friends, even if I could requisition a soni-route to get to them.
And unless you were fated mates, you couldn’t know you wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone after a few meetings, a few comms, a few days spent together and a really great kiss.
So, mm-hmm.
I had a lot to go over with my gals.
I just didn’t know if I had the time because I didn’t know how long whatever took Tanyn’s attention would last.
My decision was made for me when I sensed movement in the room behind me.
I turned, thinking it’d be Tanyn.
It was Mangold.
He came to the door, opened it, stuck his head out and demanded, “What are you doing out here without a hat and coat? You’ll catch your death from cold.”
Considering someone unmistakably very loved had done the same thing, I shoved my Palm back in my pocket, moved to the door, he got out of the way, and when I entered the room, he closed the door.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, his eyes thinned and taking in my face meticulously.
“No,” I pushed out. “Everything. Is not. All right.”
His eyes widened at my tone.
And since he was all I had, and all I was feeling was too much, not to mention, I was Catla Truelock, I let loose.
I advanced on him, watching his body lock and his head jerk in surprise at my aggressive movements.
I came rocking to a halt a few feet away, and with a straight arm, finger pointed at the door, I hissed, “That male is king, but he’s always been the future king, and even if that was somehow circumvented, which for a sad time we both know it was, he was still direct blood of a royal, and he holoed to school from a tiny study? ”
Understanding infused Mangold’s features, but I was far from done.
“Six rooms!” My voice was rising. “Six farging rooms. No friends. No activities. No parks to play in. Did they take holidays?”
“No,” Mangold said.
I threw up both hands. “Okay, so this place is awesome, but to be stuck here all the time? No family trips to the beach. No weeks at Culpepper’s Land of Wonder. Am I believing this? No!”
“Miss Truelock—”
“It’s Catla,” I snapped. “Or Cat. This is a family home. There is no protocol here.”
He pressed his lips together, clearly in an effort not to smile in the face of my fury.
I was not finding a thing to be happy about.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised Arnaud was such a piece of shit, since his father was the original,” I declared.
“We were happy here, Catla,” Mangold said in a conciliatory tone.
“I can tell. But you could have been more happy,” I shot back.
“It’s in the past,” he said softly. “There’s naught we can do about it, except make happier memories now and in the future.”
That shut me up.
Except to say, “I’m sorry I took that out on you. I just…got overwhelmed.”
“Understandable.”