Chapter 26
Cethin
“While I’m sure I know the answer to this, I’m going to ask you anyway,” Cethin said as they approached Tenebrae Halls. “Are you certain you don’t want to simply Travel back to Aimonway? We can come back to Shadowfen tomorrow.”
Kailia looked up at him, and he knew she wasn’t being a smart ass when she asked, “Why would we do that?”
Trying to appeal to logic, since that was what it seemed like she responded to best, he said, “You don’t like waking in unfamiliar places.”
She appeared to consider that for a moment before she said, “I’d like to see Shadowfen in the sunlight. Here is fine.”
Of course it was.
He held in his sigh as Razik pushed open the iron gates, the metal creaking and echoing in the now still night.
Tenebrae Halls was a large manor house that could have been classified as a miniature castle.
Larger than any of the estate homes in Aimonway, it was sprawling.
Stretching to both the left and right from the main doors, the towering west and east wings were manor homes in and of themselves.
There was also a tower stretching to the sky in the middle.
Their boots echoed on the stone floors when they entered the main doors.
A set of curving stairs ran up each side of the grand foyer, marble statues and dark paintings adorning the space.
It didn’t take long for someone to greet them, and the male led them down a maze of halls until they came to the west wing. Razik was given a smaller set of rooms next to the suite that he and Kailia were ushered into.
“Is there anything else I can bring you, your Majesties?” the escort asked, standing just inside the door.
Cethin glanced at Kailia, finding her taking in the space, but he knew she was listening to everything being said as well.
“Do you need anything, Kailia? Food? Wine? Hot water for a bath?”
She paused at that last one, looking back over her shoulder. “There are no pipes to carry the water here?”
He shook his head. “Tenebrae Halls is one of the oldest buildings in Avonleya. Some say it’s as old as the kingdom itself. They haven’t wanted to alter the original structure.”
“I do not need anything,” she replied, turning back to inspecting the room, no doubt counting exits and planning escape routes.
“Warm water to wash up in the basin if it’s not too much trouble,” Cethin answered, turning back to the male. He held out a few coin as well, which the male swiped up with a small bow of his head before leaving them alone.
“Is this where I would have lived if I’d truly been from here?” Kailia asked, draping her cloak over the back of a winged armchair.
“Perhaps,” Cethin said, removing his own cloak. Ashes from the fight fluttered to the ground. “With your skill set, more than likely.”
“What does that mean?”
She’d drifted to a window, pulling back the curtain to peer out into the darkness.
There wasn’t much by way of moonlight tonight, and certainly not in Shadowfen.
The clouds in the sky were as dense as the fog along the ground.
Even so, a small stream of moonlight trickled in, illuminating her warm features.
Combined with the flickering of the sconces, she looked like an ethereal huntress with her bow still looped across her chest.
“You’ve been quiet since the fight,” he ventured, avoiding her question and taking a seat in the armchair to unbuckle his boots.
More white ashes drifted off him. The sight of them made him realize he definitely should have requested bathing water, and he lifted a hand, a swirl of darkness carrying his request to the staff asking for more water and some wine.
Kailia let the curtains fall closed, drifting to another window and pulling back the drapes.
“Something you want to talk about?” Cethin tried again.
“No,” she answered without looking at him.
“It might help.”
That had her turning, her brow pinched in a way that told him she was truly confused. “How would talking help?”
“Sometimes just saying things out loud helps ease the burden of carrying them,” he replied, moving his boots to the side of the armchair before settling back to watch her.
She moved closer with that predatory grace she possessed before lowering into the armchair opposite him. “What would you like to talk about?”
Cethin shrugged. “Whatever you’d like. It doesn’t have to be anything important. It can be casual conversation if you prefer.”
“That seems pointless.”
He huffed a laugh. “I’m sure it does, tiny fiend, but casual conversation can be as revealing as watching from the smoke and ashes. Speaking of which…”
He trailed off with a knowing look, wondering if she’d pick up on what he was insinuating.
“This doesn’t seem like casual conversation,” she said with a small frown, apparently understanding just fine. “This feels like a pointed and direct one.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “Tell me your favorite color.”
Her brows flew up to her hairline. “What?”
“Casual conversation, wife,” he reminded her.
“Having a favorite color also seems pointless.”
“So I can have white and pink and yellow garments procured for you, and you’d be fine with that?”
Her features twisted into something that could only be described as abject distaste. “You can, but I will not wear them.”
“Then you have color preferences,” he said with a smirk.
She studied him, and by the Fates, he wished he knew what she was thinking. Because he hadn’t been speaking like a fool when he’d said casual conversation can be as revealing as watching. You could only learn so much by observing from afar. More than that, he was incredibly adept at reading people.
Aside from her.
“I suppose I prefer the darker colors that Avonleya favors,” she finally said.
“That seems beneficial for the queen.”
“Agreed.”
“Do you prefer cakes or pies?” he asked.
A laugh escaped her. An honest and genuine bark of amusement.
“That is an absurd question,” she said, fighting a smile.
“But an important one, nonetheless,” he countered.
She’d propped her head in her hand, black strands framing her face. “Sweets were an unnecessary indulgence growing up.”
Cethin had to work to keep his shock from showing at her willingly divulging something of her past. But the shock was quickly replaced with an excitement at having chipped away at her defensive walls a little.
Treading carefully, he asked, “Because your family did not have the funds for such things?”
“I was…raised with others. In a communal colony, I guess one could call it,” she answered, watching him as carefully as he was watching her.
He paused, praying to the Fates this wasn’t about to shut her down. “Like an orphanage?”
Her answering smile was sharp and joyless.
“I think an orphanage would have been paradise in comparison. We weren’t left wanting by any means.
We had food and beds and clothing, but…” She trailed off with a shrug.
“I suppose one can never really say which is better without having lived both experiences.”
Cethin nodded, contemplating the best way to ask another sensitive question when they were interrupted by a knock.
Cursing internally, he answered the door, finding the male staff member and a few others with large buckets of steaming water.
Another held a bottle of wine and two glasses, along with a plate of cheese, crackers, and nuts.
After they’d hauled everything in and left, each with a handful of coin for their trouble, he turned back to Kailia, where she was still sitting in the armchair, head propped in her hand and clearly lost to memories or thoughts or both.
“As much as I’m enjoying our conversation, I will feel terrible if I have to summon someone with Anala’s gifts to reheat our water,” he said, her amber gaze sliding to him.
“I’m sure they wouldn’t object considering you are their king,” she replied.
“King or not, it would still be an avoidable inconvenience for everyone,” he answered while pulling the cork from the wine bottle. He poured two glasses as he asked, “Would you like to bathe first?”
“That’s not necessary,” she answered quickly.
“I didn’t say it was,” he answered, crossing the room and extending a glass to her. “But if you would enjoy a hot bath after the events of the day and evening, I’m going to insist you indulge a little, tiny fiend.”
She reached for the glass, her fingers brushing along his. She paused, as if surprised she’d done such a thing, and he fought a shiver. Because somehow, all it took for him to find himself aroused and wanting was a godsdamn brush of her fingers.
Taking the glass, he heard her murmur to herself, “Start small.” Then she stood so abruptly, he didn’t have time to take steps back to give her the space he normally did.
She barely came to his shoulders, and she tipped her head back to peer up at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she clearly warred with herself to stay this close to him.
Moving slowly, he let a wisp of his darkness brush along her lips before he ran his thumb along her lower one, pulling it from her teeth.
He heard the quiet, gasped inhale, and he could feel her heart racing.
For the briefest of moments, he could swear her mask slipped.
He thought she was going to ask for more, but then she cleared her throat, stepping to the side and out of reach.
“Are you sure you don’t mind me bathing first?” she asked, backing towards the bathing chamber.
“I insist,” he answered with a tight smile before taking a drink of his wine.
“Thank you,” she said softly before turning. He heard the bathing room door shut, and he sank into the armchair with an audible groan.
Taking another healthy drink of wine, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, reminding himself this was progress. She’d shared her arrows with him tonight. That had to account for something. Fuck, that might even mean more to her than letting him touch her.
“Blood of death.”