43 #2
“He doesn’t want me. He’s made that rudely though humorously clear, but…” She sighed. “He seems more cutthroat with words. When I stepped too close to him, he reared back like a skittish horse.”
Disbelievingly, I laughed. “No.”
“Yes,” she said with a laugh of her own. “So I know I’ll be just fine. Bored but fine.”
Deciding the safest option was to lean against the dressing chamber doorway, I reached for one of the many questions I had. “How did you get here?”
“Urnin snuck me out. I had to give him a handful of my jewels so he can retire and hide from Father and Meront, but it was worth it.” Quiet settled coldly, then she spoke again. “I never realized it before.”
Tears smarting, I whispered, “What?”
“How horrid our families are.” Her own eyes welled. “All we wanted was to leave the archives and return home. But those moons spent in that dank fortress…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Things are the same, yet it all seems…”
“Different,” I finished for her. “Strangely so.”
“Certainly for you.” She averted her gaze to the window.
“I heard Father and his most trusted talking about it, you know.” Swallowing, she said, “Their intent to warn Raxon about your father’s plan to wed you to Meront for gold.
I’d like to say they were just scared, but they side with what suits their interests, Ayla. ”
And a kingdom flooded with gold was only interested in things they could not purchase.
Wyverns.
“And before you were brought here, word of your half brother arrived. My parents laughed about it, and your father’s evident desperation.” A pause. “Meront told me they will swear fealty to Raxon at the crown-feeding ceremony.”
My stomach sank.
I might not have respected my father as I once had, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see him betrayed in ways that would affect our people.
“So my parents won’t dare upset him by demanding my immediate return. I have some time.” Looking back at me, Celestine asked, “Have you seen him?”
I didn’t need to ask who she meant. “Once,” I said, being that we weren’t alone the other times. “And he wouldn’t even…” Not wishing to describe it, nor voice my fears about Voran, I lowered my gaze to the gleaming wood floor.
“He won’t help you,” she determined.
“No.”
Silence.
Then Celestine groaned. “Shit.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Shit. And tomorrow, I must—”
The door opened, thwarting my attempt to tell her about the bride trial.
Jolting, I retreated into the dressing chamber. Dusk lifted her head from Celestine’s stomach and snarled like a cat.
Ruvus halted at the sight of the wyvern. Then, as if sensing or scenting me, he slowly slid his luminous gaze toward the dressing chamber. He blinked. “Princess.” A clipped word. “Dare I ask what business you have with my attire?”
Like Voran, he had an accent. Except that his was not so thick. Each word was crisp, hewn like a freshly sharpened blade.
I gave the tidily hung garments—most of them black—a quick perusal. “I was just admiring your, uh…” Words failed me. “Organization skills.”
Celestine snorted.
It drew the wolf’s attention. He slammed the door and crossed the room to stand beside his bed. Hands clenched behind his back, he lifted his chin as he regarded my friend. “It seems you’re stuck in here.” Clearing his throat slightly, he added unnecessarily, “With me.”
Celestine smiled brightly. “I’m trying very hard not to say I told you so.”
“And yet…” Through a tight smile of his own, the commander said, “You just did.”
I bit my lips to keep from laughing.
Dusk leapt to the floor, then climbed up onto the bed. Her wings flapped, and her claws pulled at the neat bedding, rumpling it and ruining the silk.
Ruvus stiffened. “Rules,” he said, strained. “Let us discuss them.”
“You’ve already told me not to touch anything,” Celestine said. “Should I absolutely need to, then I am to put it back exactly as it was. I’m to make sure no water remains in the tub after I’m done bathing to keep mildew from growing, and to keep my—”
“Yes, yes.” Ruvus rotated his jaw before saying, “I remember.”
Though I could only see his profile, I saw the furious red crawling up his neck into his high cheeks. When Dusk hissed at him from his bed, I retrieved her while murmuring, “We’ll take our leave so that you can better discuss things.” At the door, I said, “Commander Ruvus?”
He pushed his spectacles up his nose as he frowned at me.
“May Celestine please visit me?”
He blinked, then nodded vigorously. “Certainly.” Looking at the princess, he spread his hands. “The princess may do so now, if she so wishes.”
But Celestine gave the wolf a sly smile and reclined across the divan, an arm hanging over the velvet edge. “I think I should stay here with you, Commander.” With her other hand, she fluffed her cream curls. “To make sure I understand all of these rules first.”
It was then I knew she was enjoying this—ruffling this commander they called Ruvus the Runt. More than enjoying it, if the way her smile widened from his flustered silence was anything to go by.
Ruvus’s mouth went slack. His face was nearly entirely crimson as he looked over at me. For help, maybe.
But I just smiled and slipped out of his rooms, relieved to know that—at least for now—my daring friend was fine.