They reached his room a few steps later, and he pressed inside. The moment he stepped in, he pushed his shirt off. Reverie paused to lean on the frame.
"What did they tell you exactly?" he asked her.
"They said, and I quote: she is fine, stop asking."
Dorian paused as he grabbed his pipe off the table and started packing it. "That's not bothersome atall," he grunted, mind wandering as to why the Honest would have responded in such a short sentence. "Is that what they told Corbin as well?"
"I believe their response to the Belwark was to go fuck himself," she replied.
"Fantastic," he mumbled. He tried not to let the Honest's words about his sister get to him. He trusted that if she needed him, her eagle would find him, or Bala and Nadir would have sent word. He decided he would ask Hagen about how trustworthy the traders were after the trial the next day.
With the thoughts pushed to the back of his mind, he turned his attention back to the Dreamer before him, noting the raise of her brow as her gaze danced over him, lingering on his shoulders and then at the vee of his hips. He fought the smirk on his face and settled against the table.
“And what does my wife have planned for her afternoon?" he bantered, finger lighting the end of the packed pipe. He puffed the stem between his lips and allowed it to swim in his lungs a moment before exhaling. The spice of the smoke hit Reverie and made her eyes flutter.
"Have you come to make sure I'm well rested before tomorrow's trial?"
Reverie rolled her eyes. "I'm not your wife."
"I didn't hear a denial about the making sure I'm well rested bit," he suggested.
"Again… You're dreaming, Prince."
Though he didn’t miss the amusement in her eyes.
"You never call me by my name," he said abruptly. "Why is that? Are you afraid you'll like the sound of it too much on your tongue?"
"You would like that, wouldn't you?" She pushed off the door, slowly stepping his way. "My calling you the name your mother gave you."
“You could call me your King.”
“Please tell me why I would ever do that.”
“Because as your future King, if you don’t, there are those who might want you in chains.”
“And does your sister expect me to call her my Queen?”
Dorian grinned. “No, this is just for me. Pure selfishness, actually.”
“Imagine that,” she mocked.
She paused a moment, and he shifted under her gaze. “What?” he asked.
“You realize I can see through you, right?”
He took another inhale of the pipe, smug brow raising. “If you wanted to see what’s beneath these trousers, all you had to do was ask."
“That right there. This whole…charadeyou’re putting on." Her eyes darted over him once, and his smile fell. "Hiding your true pain behind this mask.”
Every muscle in his body went rigid. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice dropping.
She paused before him, arms still crossed over her chest. “I know this war scares you. That you’re terrified of failing your sisters. That you would do anything to make sure your Princess was safe, even if it meant tearing a hole through our world and bringing everything down with you.”
He sat the pipe back on the table and settled his arms over his chest, feeling a numbness rise inside him. “Anything else?”
“I know you cannot wait to get back to Magnice…” she continued. “That you would have marched yourself back with me the day I found you had you not been instructed by both your Venari Kings to go to these mountains. I know you would have gone willingly to Scindo, with a skip in your step even, if it meant getting back there and slicing your brother’s throat—”
