I sit and lower my head, a coward, unworthy of the title I bear.
Finally, Jestin kneels before me and takes my stiff hand. One heartbeat, and I would pull away. I do not. His other hand lifts my chin, drawing me closer, and I have no fight left.
“I should not have said that. I am sorry. My words did not carry the meaning I intended.” His hand traces the line of the brand on my wrist; his touch feels like unworldly acceptance.
Or is it something else? I do not care, as long as it soothes the storm inside me.
“I am sorry too,” I whisper.
Relief softens his face. The anger and the hurt are stalling.
I need to thank Aidon for stepping up. Whatever he said changed Jestin’s course of action.
Before I can muster the courage, Jestin’s familiar smile returns, one side of his lips tilting upward.
Thank you, Gorok.
Though Fae always get even, they also hold grudges. This time, I seem to have gotten away with two tantrums.
“Yourfriendsays you donotregret what we did,” he remarks, raising an eyebrow as if we had not argued mere heartbeats ago.
I blush but don’t protest. I am happy he knows without my needing to say it. Instead, I settle into our familiar teasing banter.
“If you let us use your accommodations, Lord Navatian,” I say, adding extra sass, “maybe we can discuss resuming those activities.”
I am, in fact, shameless.
“Your chambers are ready. I also emptied the blue room for your guest,” Jestin says, winking and pivoting to leave, but lingering by the door.
“Sels, I know Samira has already told you, but Chief Gerald is in the palace.”
My heart races. He studies me, expression solemn.
I do not reply. I do not react.
He sighs. “I thought you should know. He will be gone by morning. Best to avoid the formal wing.”
He lingers, opening the door for me to exit his chambers. The simple gesture feels like a promise. He leans close, whispering in my ear. “Please stay.”
I have no response.
My body is locked in fight or flight. How can I sleep now? I let him trap me here. Leaving the palace would involve risking a confrontation with Chief Gerald. I’m not ready for that. Who knows where he’s lurking? I could bump into him on my way out. The Chief is the only Fae who has witnessed what I’ve done. His eyes, dark pools of anguish and judgment, threaten to unravel me with a single glance. I would move mountains to avoid meeting them, to escape even the slightest hint of hisattention, knowing that facing him is more terrifying than any punishment I could endure.
At least my room is not far from Jestin’s, so I can sneak out and barricade myself in there.
“Bring me wine,” I order him.
“Of course, My Lady,” Jestin replies, giving me a small bow. His tone is formal, but the subtle shake of his head tells me what he really thinks about that. Still, he’ll fulfil my request, and that’s what matters.
Chapter 5
Yesterday I hit the liquor cabinets, and thankfully dozed off in a matter of moments after the warm liquid hit my stomach. The effects seeped into my dreams. I haven’t slept on such a comfortable mattress in a long time. My head has spun me into oblivion. Oddly, the new presence lurking at the edge of my mind made the nightmares more bearable, as I was no longer alone in the battle against my consciousness. I don’t dare to question it. If something works, then it works.
I wake to the aroma of a morning feast drifting in from the adjoining dining room: warm brioche, rich chocolate, and something else sweet enough to pull me fully from sleep. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it if it weren’t for the hangover tonic waiting for me on the bedside table. Jestin knows me too well.
Or was it Aidon?
“Don’t look my way. If it were up to me, I would force you to suffer through the consequences,” he says, already sprawled in front of the table, his boots on the nearby chair. Typical oaf.
