Twenty-Four
In the morning, I woke in an unfamiliar space, breathing in a faint, soapy, spiced scent; it clung to his pillow.
The room was too quiet, too soft, too lonely.Lonelywas how I always felt when I woke up in this vast nightmare palace instead of our snug cottage, and it had nothing to do with pushing up on my elbow and discovering Fieran was gone.
Clear light filled his room. The bed on his floor was empty and neatly made, even though it wasn’t as if he would need it again, with blankets pulled up to the pillows. I frowned down at it, wondering why he’d put me in his bed.
Why had he cared enough to watch over me in my sleep?
Fieran obviously wanted something from me, and I needed to know what part I played in his plans…and what those plans were.
Wisps of memory came back to me, but only in fragments. He’d called for help, his voice desperate. The memory of how distraught he’d sounded haunted me.
It must have something to do with his plans. He didn’t care aboutme. I tried to capture any other threads of memories or dreams I could tease into something more, but I couldn’t grasp any of them before they floated away.
I felt rested and refreshed in a way I never felt in the morning. I usually stumbled out of my bed with deep reluctance about the wisdom of leaving it behind.
I stretched and tested out my muscles, felt along my body for the bruises that should’ve ached from Maura’s boots and fists. But when I pulled up my tunic, my stomach looked flat and unmarked. My skin was usually bruised from farm chores, from heavy buckets banging into my legs as I staggered along or the antics of asshole goats.
I frowned and let the tunic drop. It fell almost to my knees.
It wasn’t mine.
The black tunic was huge, swimming on me.
Fieran’s.
Why the fuck was I wearing his clothes?
I looked around the room for my own clothes, feeling unamused by the thought of venturing into the hallway wearing his tunic and no trousers. But I didn’t see them anywhere.
Fieran’s room smelled like him, a warm, spicy scent that was far too inviting. He had his own house, but he seemed to have dug into the barracks like a tick. Weapons hung neatly on the wall as if swords and knives were decor. There was a big bookcase, and I eyed the titles.Dragons of the Southern Realm. Obsidian Dragons: History & Lineage. Aerial Strategy and Tactics.
The twin arched window contained window seats wide enough for two, and there were a few more books piled on one seat . I was drawn to his desk, and my fingers hovered over the papers there.
The view out the window caught my eye. Unlike my room, which looked out over the atrium, his faced out into the broader world. Beyond was the glittering sea.
Until being dragged here, I’d never seen a city so vast, nor an ocean that seemed to go on forever. I’d claimed I never wanted to leave our village, but I was curious what was beyond these walls. Would I ever leave here alive? Would I ever be free to explore, unshackled from the urgent pull toward protecting my family?
I looked down again at his papers. Some of them were pinned down by a glass canister of dog treats, and I dug out a generous handful to winRees’ tolerance. Then I shifted the canister to one side to get a better look.
The ones on top were letters written to Fieran from various shifters about monster attacks in their region, and I scanned them quickly but saw nothing intriguing. A report on sea monsters invading the southern coast. Another report, complete with maps, laid out several planned arenas to allow shifters to face sea monsters here for the spectators. Well, given that I did not know how to swim well at all, I didn’t relish that thought.
I moved them aside and caught a glimpse of his spending records, written in a quick, careless scrawl that was nonetheless beautiful and also quite hard to read. I bent over them, squinting. If only I had glasses.
“Snoopy little mortal.” Fieran’s deep voice rumbled through me.
The world reeled for a second as my heart sped to a gallop. I spun to face him.
He was leaning with one big shoulder braced in the doorway, his thick arms folded over his chest. How long had he been standing there?
“And here you implied I was wrong when I described your sneakiness to Rees.”
Given my lack of any suitable comeback, I shrugged and took a step forward, because my first instinct when Fieran might be angry was to back away…and I wouldn’t surrender one step to him.
His gaze swept over me in a way I couldn’t read. He swallowed, his throat moving visibly as he studied my body in the tunic, my bare legs. He rubbed his hand over his face and turned away toward the door.
“Come with me,” he told me, his voice suddenly cool. “There’s something I must do.”
