I feel physically drained in ways that I didn’t even know were possible—it’s a struggle just to blink at this point. But aside from the physical exhaustion, I feel wiped out on an emotional level too. I sigh, and Sabin gives me a half smile that makes me feel like he can see right to the heart of me.
He leads me to the room with the bathroom I claimed earlier. I take in the red bedding on the large gothic looking bed, the headboard a whole wall of draped fabric. It looks like Royals R Us did the interior decoration, it has a similar vibe to every bedroom I’ve ever seen in a period flick. There’s a fireplace on the other side of the room with intricate flowers and vines carved into the mantel and sides.
I follow a carved vine in the corner of the room up to the ceiling, and in the dim fairy light, I can just make out what appears to be a scene from Fantasia carved into the stone all above us. Correction—an X-rated version of a scene from Fantasia.
“Sweet, we got the centaur porn room,” I observe, my head tilted back so I can take in all the many positions that I wouldn’t have thought half-horse people could accomplish. Guess that whole four legs thing isn’t as much of a hindrance as one would think—not that I’ve ever thought about centaur sex or really even centaurs in general—but I sure as hell will now.
“Huh, how are they sixty-nining?” Knox asks, tilting his head to the left like it will help him somehow make more sense of what he’s seeing. “Are horse legs that bendy?”
I snort out a laugh and shake my head at him.
“I don’t know if this is going to scar me or help me,” Ryker states in confused awe.
He stops next to me, his head craned all the way back as he takes the ceiling in.
My focus is pulled away from the graphic art when Valen, Bastien, and Torrez show up in the doorway with a large mattress and bedding I can only assume was recently pulled off the bed in the other room. Knox, Sabin and Siah move to lift the mattress off the bed in this room, and they set it down next to the other one in the middle of the floor.
I kick off my shoes and push my nasty, mud crusted pants down my legs. I lost my shirt in the fight earlier when I yanked it off and pressed it to my stab wound before it disappeared. I pull my sports bra over my head and smile at Siah when he pulls off his shirt and hands it to me. We’re all dirty and should probably clean up, but it’s clear everyone is too tired to give any fucks. I crawl to the middle of the mattresses and snake in under the covers.
None of us managed to keep our packs amidst all the craziness, but we’ll have to worry about that tomorrow. My Chosen crawl into bed around me, but I’m on the verge of passing out before they can even settle. I feel arms around my waist, and they pull my back into a warm muscled chest. Someone else’s fingers interlace themselves with mine as another set of feet cradle my own. I’m out seconds later, exhausted, warm, protected.
15
Knox announces that food just arrived and that he’s going to spell the platters of food to check for anything that could fuck us up. His call to breakfast reaches me in the bathroom, and I use my magic to quickly dry my hair. I eye the black clothing that I pulled from a pile that was delivered for all of us. It seems we get to dress the part of Tierit Sentinel Guard, and something about that is doing funny things to my chest.
I tighten my thin towel under my arms and run a hand over the black leather armored vest that ties over a black shirt. I can’t figure out what fabric the shirt or pants are made out of. It’s softer than cotton but stretchy. The pants have armored leather patches sewn onto the vulnerable parts of the leg. And the arms of the shirt sport the same protection.
I’m in awe and pissed off at the same time. The craftsmanship is incredible. I’ve probably never seen a more badass set of clothing than the armored clothes the guards wear here, but it makes me feel like a fucking outcast at the same time. I wanted, more than I could admit before, to belong here. But they don’t want me. They don’t want us.
I look into the mirror and run my eyes over my features. Maybe someday rejection won’t sting as much. Fuck knows I should really be used to it, but despite my efforts to not care, I do. I just can’t seem to help it. I look away, not wanting to see the dispirited girl that’s staring back at me.
I unfold the clothes and try to shake away the images they immediately conjure. We could be good at this: guarding, missions, the general badassery that clothing like this brings out in you. If only these people didn’t want to hide away from the world, they could do so much with their abilities. Slowly I pull on the clothes and try not to hate myself for liking how they feel. I can’t tell if we were given these things from some thoughtful intention someone had, or if they’re trying to rub it in even more just how out of reach all that they have is always going to be for me. They could have given us the gray clothing that I saw the other citizens of Tierit wearing, but they gave us this instead, and it’s fucking with me.
A knock on the door forces me to push my thoughts away. I force myself not to look in the mirror before I answer. I don’t want to like this, to like how I look in it. I don’t want to miss it when it’s inevitably taken away. The door swings open to reveal Sabin. Like me, he’s dressed head-to-toe in black, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
He looks like a warrior wet dream.
“Hey, I brought you boots. I don’t know if I feel freaked out or impressed that they got all of our sizes right. Or maybe their magic has something to do with it. I thought the armor looked too big, but as soon as I pulled it on over my head, it fit like a glove.”
I force my eyes to stay locked on his, not letting them hungrily roam all over his body the way they want to. Sabin is looking down at his arms, clearly in awe of how the clothing fits. He misses the hardening of my eyes as I mask the pain a bunch of useless clothing is causing me.
I need to get a fucking grip.
“Thanks,” I offer as I grab the boots and slip past him to find somewhere to perch so I can put them on.
A couple wolf whistles fill the air, but I don’t look to see who’s giving them. “Don’t!” I shout and sit on the arm of a chair and start lacing up my boots. I ignore the crack of emotion in my voice, and the room goes silent at my outburst.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I try to shake away my funk as I pull on my other boot. I look up and don’t stare at anyone long enough to discern their expression. I don’t want to see the pity or attraction or whatever else they’re feeling; I have too much warring inside of me to take on any more.
Someone pounds on the door outside in the main room. Torrez watches me for a moment more and then leaves to answer it.
“You have been summoned for the selection of the tribunal.”
Irritation dribbles through me when I hear Suryn’s voice filter in. I walk out from our separate quarters and into the main room, and Suryn’s equally irritated gaze runs over me. She dismisses my presence with a purse of her lips and turns around to march away. We all quickly fall into step behind her. It’s annoying that we have to follow her temperamental ass around or risk never finding anything. This place is massive though and, so far, confusing as fuck. Note to self, if they don’t try to kill us today, getting the lay of this castle might be wise.
Kallan, Enoch, Becket, and Nash have to rush to catch up with us. I can feel eyes on the back of my head as we wind through the never-ending hallways and stairs. I know one or more of my Chosen are trying to figure out why their mate has gone full ice queen, but they’ll have to wait to get those answers until we’re out of here and I can say them aloud without fracturing.
