My cheeks warm. I haven’t said it. Neither of us have. But I know that’s what this feeling must be. I would do anything for him, even risk my own life, and something tells me he would do the same.
For a moment, her gaze drifts toward me. Her fingers twitch, curling briefly against the folds of her skirt before she lifts her chin and continues toward her chambers. Whatever thoughts linger behind her calm façade, she does not speak them aloud.
By the time Nadya and I reach our connected chambers, my body is heavy with exhaustion, my skin sticky from travel. The weight of mourning—of duty, of expectation—has settled deep in my bones, pressing against me like an ill-fitted corset.
The moment the door clicks shut behind us, Nadya groans, kicking off her boots with little care for where they land. “I’d very much like to strip myself naked, climb under my covers, and remain like that for the foreseeable future.”
I laugh. “What about dinner?”
“I’m sure Indira could bring me a tray of food.”
“She’ll probably make you beg first.”
“Celeste, I may have reached the point of begging,” she says as she undoes the ties of her dress.
I shake my head, but the amusement fades as I glance down at myclothes—the black silks, the suffocating weight of my mourning attire. The fabric smells of horse and sweat, of weeks spent wrapped in veils and expectations.
I unfasten the outer tunic first, peeling it from my arms and tossing it to the floor, resisting the urge to set the wretched thing on fire. If I never have to wear black again, it will be too soon.
I pull off my boots, wiggling my toes. “I think I may have to agree. We’re getting a night’s rest, no matter who tries to stop us.”
As if the gods were laughing at my plans, a sharp knock sounds at the door.
Nadya groans. “You spoke too soon.”
I sigh, dragging my fingers through my loose hair before crossing the room. When I pull the door open, Indira stands on the other side, looking as exasperated as I feel, with a deep frown and a wrinkled forehead.
“Another summons?” I guess.
Indira shakes her head. “No. Just this.” She lifts a small parchment, sealed with dark wax. “The new tower master asked me to bring it to you. Said it arrived a couple of days ago.”
I frown, taking the letter. The wax is unmarked, the parchment slightly crinkled from being stored. “For me?”
Indira shrugs. “Also, dinner has been pushed back until eight tonight. King’s order.”
“I guess we’re not the only ones who need to catch up on rest,” Nadya comments from my bed, where’s she’s flopped herself down.
A strange unease prickles over my skin. Who would send me a message by nightfeather now, of all times?
Indira gives me a tired nod. “I’ll be back later to help you get ready.”
I nod, offering a quiet thanks before closing the door.
Nadya props herself up on her elbows, eyeing the parchment in my hands. “Mysterious messages already? I thought we’d at least get an evening to breathe.”
I move toward the candlelight, slipping my nail beneath the wax seal. The parchment unfolds easily, the ink dark and precise.
Celeste,
I have urgent business to discuss with you. Come as soon as you are able.
I recognize my uncle’s handwriting, but why would he send a nightfeather to get in touch with me? Why wouldn’t he use his telepathic powers to contact me? I get a sudden sour feeling in my stomach, worried that he hasn’t truly recovered from his abduction and that something horrible has happened to his power.
I stare at the words, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten.‘Urgent business.’
It could be a trap. It could be something insignificant.
But my gut tells me otherwise.
