Chapter 34
The next day, Dion’s state had improved rapidly, and I was in awe to see that his body was fighting the necrosis with success and that his thigh had completely healed.
When I’d examined him this morning, I hadn’t been able to believe what my eyes had told me, and I’d rubbed my hands over his fresh skin in disbelief until the prince had made a lewd comment about the more private parts of his anatomy and how he had changed his condition as well if I wanted to check.
Of course, I’d backed off, warm blood tinting my cheeks as the insufferable bastard had grinned, showcasing his dimples.
That had been the moment I’d been convinced everything would be alright.
To the luck of everyone involved, Dion’s face was unmarred once more, and he presented the same flawless appearance as usual when the royal tailor and his assistants made an entrance. The visit was unpleasant; the disdain for my kind was so palpable that antipathy was a tangible force in the air.
But Dion proved to be a problem as well. He acted all growly and snarled at the tailor when he came closer to me than a few feet, which didn’t make his work an easy one.
The prince was so agitated that when one of the female assistants stepped up, he snapped at her too as she was about to wrap the tape around me. In the end, he took my measurements himself under supervision.
Afterward, I told him off—if our visitors had reported to Galrach, all our acting so far would have been for naught—and he glowered at me with a look that would have been frightening if I hadn’t stopped being scared of him a long time ago.
Though I protested and even blocked the exit, Dion left his quarters right after our brief discussion.
“Serious business, Naya. We’re here to find out if Galrach is involved in the situation with the Wild Rifts, and you know that. So, stay in the suite. You don’t want to blow our cover, do you?” My reenactment of his decree was spot-on, according to my reflection. “Promise me to remain here, or—”
Ugh, yes, he’d threatened to tie me to the bed. Again. With too much dimple on display.
In the end, I gave him my word, even though I was almost certain that he planned to silence the tailors in a manner I wouldn’t approve.
Plenty of hours passed.
The sun was already losing power, and I was going stir-crazy.
Funny how the walls seemed to close in on me, although Dion’s quarters were so spacious that he could host a good part of Credenta in here, and the place wouldn’t be crowded.
Being alone didn’t do me any good. My nerves fluttered inside my stomach, and every time I abstained from actively distracting myself, my mind replayed yesterday’s events in a loop.
I could have taken a nap, but I was afraid of reliving what had happened in the stone cave and afterward. As prone as I was to nightmares, dreaming about the incident was a real threat, and so I settled on pacing.
But after some rounds, I stopped dead in my tracks as a sudden obstacle appeared in front of my feet.
“What are you doing here?”
Of course, there was no answer, but I squatted down and patted the tip of the tendril, which nudged my hand in return.
Not that long ago, I’d compared the magical constructs to somewhat clingy pets and had presumed Dion was conjuring them to humor me, but after the last few weeks, I wasn’t too sure about the latter part.
Too often, the prince had worn a confused expression when he’d caught a glimpse of one or more of the shadow creatures, who owned surprisingly distinct traits—or more, this one had a personality. The others appeared to be mostly of one mind.
Oh, yes. I’d given up on feeling weird about considering them alive and sentient.
“Did he leave you here, or did you decide to stay on your own, hmm?”
Petting its soft head…tip…beak…whatever, the being purred and pushed itself against my hand. That was what I meant by personality. Needy, pesky, clingy, but protective, not unlike a certain fae male himself.
Maybe it needed a name. Squinting at the creature, which was coiling around my forearm as it swished, I shook my head. I wouldn’t lose my mind over a piece of magic, no matter how cute the result was.
A knock on the door startled me, but I relaxed almost instantly.
“Nayana, it is me. Please open the door.”
“Antas, good to see you. Come in. Oh, what’s all that?”
“Dion asked me to guarantee that your new garments reach you without trouble.”
“The tailor has already finished sewing? How’s that even possible?”
“Magic.”
Of course.
Huffing, I grabbed a crate and hauled it inside. Together, Antas and I moved more than a dozen wooden packages into the suite, each at least half my height.
Breathing hard, I leaned on one particularly big box and allowed my gaze to roam over the male. When we’d arrived in Alaiann, I hadn’t been able to inspect his true form.
Antas was tall, almost seven feet, if I had to take a guess, and his physique reminded me of a whip. Lean, lithe, and agile, without the bulk of his half-brother.
He looked me directly in the eye as I balked upon seeing his face—or rather, half of it.
Because Antas was wearing a mask, covering parts of his features, made from some kind of thin, dark silver metal.
The unassuming material concealed half of his forehead, his nose, a part of his lips, one pointed ear, and a good chunk of his chin.
Even one eye was hidden. However, fine lines hinted at an opening mechanism somewhere.
His visible eye—deep emerald-colored—was facing me warily, and although my curiosity was almost killing me, I didn’t pry. Not instantly, at least.
“Will you stay for a while?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes, please. I spent the whole day alone, with only a magical construct as company.” Lifting my arm, I showed him the onyx tendril. It was purring as usual, but in a lower key, and I was almost certain that it was napping.
Antas’ good eyebrow rose. “Curious.”
“Indeed.”
Just as curious as that godsdamned mask.
Antas approached and extended his hand to the sleeping strand, but faster than lightning, half of it unfurled and pushed his arm away.
“It’s as territorial as Dion himself.”
“Has that happened before?”
“That his magic appears to act on its own? Hm, yes. On numerous occasions.”
A worried gleam materialized in his emerald eye, but he schooled his expression so fast that I wondered if I’d only imagined the hint of concern.
The mood in the room bordered on oppressive, and as Antas strolled over to a chaise, I busied myself with cutting the ribbons tied around the first crate with my dagger.
Gods, I really needed this distraction.
As I pulled the first garment out, I noticed with relief that despite the tailor’s and his team’s disdain, as well as Dion’s abysmal behavior, the professionals had created something beautiful.
Lifting an airy plum-colored gown to show the garb to Antas, I exhaled in relief.
“Oh, how pretty is this dress? To be honest, I was afraid I’d receive rags instead of decent clothes.”
“No one at court would risk losing their position due to their prejudices. Even though you are only a lowly human in the eyes of most, you are entwined with Dion. As the heir to the throne, his word can cost staff members everything, including their lives.”
“Mh. Does he throw around his weight a lot?”
“Well. Yes and no. You cannot forget his reputation, which he earned all by himself, even if he followed Galrach’s commands most of the time. Still, being assigned to his personal staff is often a death sentence and a popular punishment that my brother doles out to those he does not like.”
“That’s horrible. Why can’t Dion see that his way is wrong?”
“For him, it simply is not. I do not always approve of his methods, but in the end, here in Galanta, morals are different from those in Ivreia. Yes, fae consider life precious since children are so rare. But still, if you want to survive, defending yourself and your loved ones is mandatory. The best way to deal with a threat is to eliminate what endangers your surroundings. Keeping enemies alive when we can reach several thousand winters of age is seen as stupidity.”
“But Dion—”
“Yes, he is taking the sentiment to the extreme. And my intention in explaining this is not for you to give him carte blanche. You have a good influence on him, but do not expect him to change so much that he fits into your worlds’ view.
No matter how much you mean to him, he will never adopt the standard ethical principles of an Ivreain citizen. ”
Antas’ words caused my skin to pebble. Usually, I spent as little contemplation as necessary about Dion’s murderous side, and if I did, then only tinted in heavy humor.
“Nayana, you grew up in a society where you were taught that every life is worth preserving and that ending it is wrong.”
“Basically. Except females are valued less. Which would be bad enough if all men were decent, but—”
“They are not. And I am not saying that the Galantan system is better or worse; fae morals are simply different. What you have done to your intended—here, everyone would have congratulated you for successfully defending yourself. And if you had not brought him to justice yourself, those around you who cherish you would have finalized the deed instead.”
Contemplating his words for a while, I went back to unboxing and marveled at some of the dresses.
Keeping my hands busy was a welcome diversion and prevented me from spiraling into memories.
Even if I’d begun to digest Jelric’s assault, the fact that I’d been responsible for his death was still firmly tucked away in the locked attic of my mind.