A laugh bubbles up inside me when I glance down and see yet another note with my name on the front tucked securely into a pot of flowers near the door. Smiling so wide it hurts, I pluck the letter from the greenery, brushing my fingertips over the ink before opening.
You little rebel…
* * *
I knew you’d come out here, no matter what I said. I envisioned you standing here naked, those pretty, pink nipples peeking through the long dark hair cascading over your shoulders—though I figure you’re wearing my robe instead. I saw you touching it last night. I asked Yaz to buy you your own today. Pick out something silky with a sash.
I have the most lascivious plans… Now go back inside.
With a heartfelt thank you,
Your Jailer
My smile turns to a laugh, but when I read the note a second time, heat centers between my legs in a heavy ache. I press the note to my lips and try to decipher what Alexus’s words mean. My mind conjures all manner of lewd scenarios—prisoner and jailer—only making me hunger for him worse. Even the wind off the sea is torture, plastering the cool silk of my lover’s robe against my skin.
Temptation returns in a flood. I slip my hand inside the robe and brush my fingertips over my damp heat, certain that Alexus Thibault is trying to kill me. Though it’s difficult, I ball my fingers into a fist, turn on my heel, and head back inside.
Hands on my hips, I look over the room, my body still thrumming. Alexus unpacked our belongings. Our clothes, weapons, blankets, everything. I walk to his desk and run my hand over his journals and touch his quill, imagining him sitting here this morning writing my letters as I slept.
I don’t know why I’m surprised to find a change of clothes and shoes and a pitcher and basin of fresh rosewater waiting near the dressing vanity. There’s also a comb with birds carved into ivory, and a sleek wooden brush made of softened boar bristles. Both must’ve been imported because I’ve never seen such beautiful grooming items in the valley.
My hair is a mass of messy waves from falling asleep with it damp. Using the brush, I smooth out the strands and weave them into a long braid, tying the ends with a leather band. As for the clothes…
They’re strange. In the valley we wore stays or linen undergarments made with boning that kept our breasts snug against our bodies and our posture good. Most of us worked much of the day, so support was a necessity. Our bloomers were nothing special, made to wick away moisture and that was about it.
Here, the underclothes are much smaller affairs. The top piece extends only a few finger lengths beneath the breasts, and the bottoms… While quite elegant, there’s no way the laboring women in these parts cover their bits with such delicate items.
I put the pieces on anyway and revel in the comfort as I lace the front of the top piece and the sides of the bottoms. Next, I dress in the waiting clothes that probably belong to Yazmin: a pair of ecru linen trousers, a white blouse, and a dainty pair of leather shoes. As I turn toward the mirror and face the woman before me, I feel like someone else entirely.
Before I leave, I check the waters for the first time since yesterday at noon. Through Colden’s eyes I see Fleurie, a woman I’ve come to know in ways I never imagined. I don’t begrudge her the time she had with Alexus. I just wish I didn’t have to relive it through his dreams. Worse still, I wish she didn’t feel like a threat. Not because they were lovers. But because—much like death—she could snatch him away in the night. For the first time, that feels like a true possibility, because she’s healing. Enough that I can now make out her face, one that resembles the pretty bright-eyed girl in my mind’s eye. But Colden is sleepy, so Fleurie quickly fades from sight.
The prince is still barricaded. As always, I try to dismantle the wards around him, but whatever I’m doing is wrong. It feels as though there isn’t enough focus in the world to break past that barrier.
When I look for Vexx, he’s staring at the same view as me, from a different angle. Knowing he’s here, hungry to cross paths with me and Alexus, makes me hope that maybe I am seen today. Maybe I’ll look up and stare into his soulless eyes. Maybe I’ll get to drive my dagger into his throat and rip out his spine, that bastard.
As for Neri, I don’t dare ask the waters to see him anymore. If I want to summon a wolf-man-god, I know how. But I don’t want to. Not now. Not ever.
I grab my dagger and thigh belt and head for the stairs, hoping that I’m never in a position where I have no other choice.
The house is even more breathtaking awash in sunlight. Every piece of wood furniture has been polished to a shine, and there’s not a speck of dust or sand on the slate-tiled floors.
No one’s in the great hall, so I stroll down the corridor that leads to the kitchen and stop at a massive floor-to-ceiling window that looks over the sea. Below, Zahira and Hel sit at a table draped in white linens and filled with colorful dishes of food and an overflowing vase of fresh flowers. Zahira spots me and smiles, then motions for me to join them.
I don’t know my way around the estate yet, but the short path to the lower courtyard is simple to navigate. As I step into the sunshine, I inhale the salty morning air and feel every trouble that’s worried me for weeks evaporate. I can’t believe how warm it is here in comparison to the valley. It feels more like early fall than nearly winter.
“Morning, Raina.” Zahira raises her teacup. “Come. Have breakfast.”
It isn’t just her and Hel. Yazmin and Nephele are here too. Everyone is smiling, my friend and sister both dressed in foreign but beautiful clothes, their faces shining in the sun, their hair clean and neat. Nephele looks a little tired, probably from building the construct around Starworth Tor, but I can’t imagine it was anywhere near as complex as the enchantment in the wood.
On the table, there are plates of pastries and bread, cheeses I could never identify, salted meats, more strange fruits, and a jar of fresh honey. It’s like we’ve entered another world, another time. If trouble wasn’t brewing across this stunning sea, I bet we could live here forever and be so happy.
I take a seat between Hel and Nephele and make the sign for Good Morning, hoping Yaz and Zahira will begin to learn some of my more common communications. Nephele translates.
After I set my dagger and thigh belt aside, I sign to my sister. “Where is everyone?”
“Sleeping, I suppose,” she answers. “I haven’t heard a peep out of anyone this morning, not even Joran. Which is highly unusual.”
“Unusual seems to have become his norm lately,” Hel says. After a pause, she nudges me and changes the subject. “You look rested. I wasn’t sure if Alexus would let you sleep at all.” She winks. “That man looked ready to fuck you until you couldn’t walk.”
