Sage flopped down by my feet, stretching his enormous body out, and I turned back to sifting through Tabitha Crowther’s romance collection.
I didn’t have many books that I liked to read in Graysen’s room. He liked off-beat classics and a few trashy bestsellers full of mystery and intrigue. Interesting enough, but not romance. I missed my Kindle. I missed my steamy romances.
There was a small collection, a series that captured my attention. They all had titles referring to a princess. Scouring through them, I pulled out a few and flicked through the first couple of pages, until I had a handful that was of a certain heat level I was curious to read, stacking them on top of one another on the coffee table. The last book had a startled laugh bubbling from my throat, which was genuine and true, and gifted me a moment of light-heartedness. The cover had a man, his white shirt gaping wide to reveal a buff chest as he leaned into a swooning woman with a tiara sitting on the crown of her dark-haired head. I purposely cleared my throat, raising my brows when I’d ensnared Graysen’s attention. I wiggled the cover of the book in front of him and gave a faux gasp. “They wrote a book about us.”
This time his lips twitched as he pressed back a smile, reading the title:The Princess and the Jerk.
For a moment, just for a moment, I forgot myself. And I grinned.
He did too, his striking features lightening at that instant.
And then I remembered where I was and what he planned for me.
I’m not your prince, little bird. I’m going to steal you from everyone you love.
Ice filled my veins.
My grin faded, and the amusement playing across his features faltered.
And we simply stared at one another, at the despair mirrored in each other’s expressions.
He sighed wearily, bowing his head to shield himself, then pushed off the bookshelf to straighten his posture, while I busied myself collecting the books I’d chosen.
Graysen cocked a brow at the armload I had gathered, and without hesitation, he reached out to take it from me. He adjusted the books in his arms, and when he took in the top book’s image and title, he hissed,“Holy hells.”His eyes flared wide with shock and met mine.
“Shut it,” I snapped back, raising a finger. I shot him a dark scowl that challenged him to further question my taste in reading. “Besides, these belonged to your mother.”
He shuddered, his lips twisting with distaste. “Don’t remind me.”
He jerked his chin toward the staircase, indicating we were to move on. Disappointment had me chewing the corner of my mouth. I’d hoped he’d let me spend more time in the library. “Can I come back here later?”
“Later,” he replied. “There’s something else I’m sure you’d like to see.”
When I tipped my head sideways, my expression expectant and filled with curiosity, he answered. “Draxxon.”
19
Nelle
There was something else beyond the vast scale of the chamber that made this room feel colder.
We weren’t alone.
Small groups were scattered throughout the room, chatting over drinks and plates of light snacks. Men and women dressed in old-fashioned house uniforms, or in grease or dirt-creased overalls; soldiers too, their black fatigues giving them away.
Once more, Graysen was tense, almost battle-ready. He’d fallen into his earlier pattern as soon as we’d left the library. After handing my romance novels to Penn to take back to his tower, he’d shielded himself behind a cold, disinterested expression. Even though he pushed his shoulders back and kept his spine rigid, he moved gracefully. And with every step he closed the gap between us, my shoulder almost bumping into his arm as we approached the far wall. If he could have growled like Sage, I imagined he would have. He seemed to be awareof everyone here and every movement they made, assessing whether they were a threat to…?
Me?
“Our Great Hall. Anyone is welcome,” Graysen shared quietly.
My family didn’t have a Great Hall. I suppose my surprise showed on my face because he continued speaking as if in answer. “We have a Great Room like everyone else to greet and entertain the Houses. However, we’ve carried on our ancestors’ tradition. This place is for our family and our staff. Once a week we all converge here for an evening, where we allmingle.”
It was yet again something else that set the Crowthers apart from the rest of us. Here, not only their soldiers made up their small army, but maids and laundry girls, men and women that looked after their orchards and farmland, were invited to eat and drink with the Crowther immediate family. This was something my parents and other Houses wouldn’t tolerate, nor even think of doing.
The chatter in the hall grew quieter as the gathered staff came to realize I was amongst them, walking between the rows of long tables and the giant pillars grooved with Ukkenskrit that supported the lofty ceiling.
I forced myself to stroll leisurely, arranging my features into a haughty look, even though the hall itself was magnificent and tugged at me to marvel at the beast coiling around the walls and the gems fixed into iron-wrought chandeliers and lanterns. Brilliant white light spilled downward, while also reflecting upward like starlight onto the vaulted ceiling, where between the stone and sturdy rafters were slats of glass. Again, like the library’s mural, the glass was stained, this time with muted greens and black lead outlining the image. I frowned, thinking about the pattern. Then forced back the smile that wanted to curve my lips as it sunk in. Scales—that’s what they looked like.
