Reyla studied my face for a long moment before nodding. Turning, she strode into the bedroom, and I followed.
She glanced around the room.Calista or Moira aren’t here waiting for us.
They’re probably settling into their own rooms.
Speaking in our minds had become second nature, and I was grateful we could do this. No one could overhear our thoughts. Although…
Remember to keep your barriers up in your mind,I said.
Always. It’s only open to you.
Taking her hand, I pulled her close, needing the comfort of her warmth.
“You know I’ll burn this whole place to the ground if they touch even one hair on your head.”
“Same, Lore. Same.”
This woman owned me. Ruined me for anyone else, and I didn’t give a fuck as long as I held her in my arms.
“We should change and go to the dining room,” she said, glancing toward the door. “The longer we delay, the more suspicious we'll seem.”
I nodded, though every instinct screamed to keep her here, safe in my arms.
Easing out of my embrace, she strode over to the closet and opened the door, huffing as she pulled out a formal gown in deep emerald with delicate silver embroidery. Regal. My favorite color on my bride because it enhanced her fiery hair. Lady Bliss’s hair was deep black.
I tugged a formal tunic and pants from my own closet and stripped off my travel clothes.
Reyla dressed quickly, her fingers deft as she twisted her hair into a low knot, leaving a few tendrils draping across her shoulders. She moved with grace, every motion efficient, yet elegant.I could have watched her tie knots and scroll through the pages of a book for hours and never looked away.
She didn’t speak, but there was no missing the wariness in her expression. I shared it.
We were both thinking of the attempts on our lives. Prager. And the talisman.
But it was more than that. This place didn’t only feel foreign, I sensed it was hungry. I’d do anything to keep it from devouring her.
I dressed in my formal clothing, tailored black with silver etching. The look of a nobleman.
We stepped back into the sitting room, finding Farris lying on the sofa in front of a fire blazing in the big hearth. The flames sputtered, the light flickering across the walls hung with yet more paintings of stoic fae.
The door to the hall opened, and Dorion hurried in, shutting it behind him. He’d also changed, though in his case, into a deep red tunic with gold embroidery. After sliding his fingertip across his pinched mouth, he cast a ward over the space, his lips moving quickly as he created the spell. A shimmer passed through the air like heat off stone.
He crossed to us, his face pale.
“Laphira.” Her name came out strangled. “Something's wrong with her.”
“What kind of something?” Reyla asked.
“She's…empty. They've stolen everything that made her who she was.”
Chapter 18
Reyla
“Explain,” Lore barked out.
“The woman we saw tonight isn't the Laphira I remember.” Dorion smacked the mantel as he passed it. “She used to command every room she entered. Tonight she barely seemed aware she was breathing.”
I frowned. “She did seem quiet.”
