Iturn onto my side to check that my cousin’s lids haven’t sealed. She’s become so quiet since I explained last night’s activities, the Cauldron’s vision, and my conversation with Konstantin that I assume she sunk back into slumber.
But, no, Naeva iswide-awake. “He really suggested rejecting a mating bond?”
I slide one palm underneath my pillow, plumping it up under my cheek. “He’s a prick, isn’t he? To think our mothers believe him noble and kind.”
She rolls onto her back, her violet hair fanning around the perfect oval of her face. “I wonder who hurt him.”
“What?”
“I’m just thinking that his aversion to settling down could stem from past romantic trauma.”
“Wherehe’dhave been the one traumatized?”
She shrugs. “It happens. Look at Antoni. Angry at the world because he didn’t end up with my sister. Do you know that he apparently never goes all the way because he’s too terrified of getting a mate?”
Huh. “I did not know, but how intriguing that you do.” When her lips pinch, I add, “I wonder if he’d go all the way with?—”
A pillow smacks my cheek. “Do not finish that thought.”
In spite of the tension roiling through my body, I laugh. Naeva side-eyes me, very unamused.
I add her pillow to my small stack. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“All right. I’m not.”
She finally smiles, but it’s tinged with such unease that I drop the subject of Antoni and lurch off the bed. “I need to go find your parents.”
“To…?”
“To ask them their thoughts on what I should do about the ring.” My stomach swooshes like it’s done throughout the night, pulling me from a series of tumultuous dreams.
In one of them, the ring had bonded with my finger. However hard I tugged, it wouldn’t slide off; it would just make me bleed. Since that wasn’t creepy enough, my subconscious had pitched Konstantin into the nightmare. He was holding the shot glass from the Tin Teapot underneath my finger to collect my blood.
“Should I force Konstantin to lend it to me? Should I forget about it and assume it’ll find a way onto my finger by the time the prophecy comes to pass? Should I?—”
A knock comes at the door just as I’m tying my black robe. Well, Naeva’s robe. I really need clothes.
“Probably Elio and Lach. They said they’d meet us here when they were ready,” Naeva says, pulling herself out of bed.
But it’s not our friends; it’s a messenger come to escort me for an audience with the king.
I consider not going, but what if he has Mestyla in custody? What if that’s the reason he’s calling for me?
“Perhaps add pants and slippers?” Naeva suggests.
The silk robe might be short, but it’s black and covers all the essential bits, so I ignore her suggestion. Besides, I don’t care to dress to the nines to meet with the asshole king.
When I enter his chambers, Konstantin is sitting at his desk, in full stately regalia, scratching up a sheet of parchment with his quill. His penmanship is so elegant that despite myself, I cannot help but admire it. If only I could shape such pretty letters.
“Would you care for a magnifying glass, Miss Ríhbiadh?”
I startle. “Excuse me?”
“You seem captivated by the document I’m penning.” He dips his plume into the inkwell, then appends a signature to his letter.
I perch a hand on my hip. “I was contemplating your penmanship, not trying to glean any of your secrets, you ass. Also,yousent forme. I assumed it was because you had Svyato and his daughter in custody.”
