“Planning on sharing a bed with the two of them?”
I grimace. “I know my father wants me guarded at all times, but Taytah warded my walls before leaving. No one comes in without an invitation.”
“What if someone you’ve already invited wishes you harm?”
“I’ll be fine, Lach.”
A knock on my door has him rolling up to sitting.
I dunk my quill into the inkpot and close my booklet. As I stuff it inside my vanity drawer, I call out, “Who is it?”
“Your future husband.”
My eyeballs threaten to tilt skyward at the sheer arrogance of Konstantin Korol, but the shock of his visit holds them steady. After all, not once in the month I’ve lived at the castle has he knocked on my door.
“Does he really believe you’re getting married?” Lachlano whispers in Serpent, mindful of the Faerie King’s potential eavesdropping.
“I hope not.”
But who really knows the depths of Konstantin’s delusions? The male guards his thoughts better than smugglers guard their contraband.
“You may come in, Konstantin Korol!” I finally call out, allowing him to pass through the wards.
The door clicks, and then he’s there—overwhelming my doorway with his glacial presence.
His lids flinch when he spots Lachlano. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
I smirk at how fast my friend lurches off the mattress, pocketing his lucky pebble.
“I was just leaving, actually.” He dips his chin. “Isles, promise that if you take sky strolls, you take themwithImmy?”
“I promise. Now, go.”
And he does, in a wisp of shadows. Instead of heading through the door Konstantin has yet to close, Lachlano arrows straight through my skylight before shapeshifting into his mammoth black bird.
“Is your skylight cracked?” Konstantin gestures to my domed window. At my frown, he adds, “I thought Crows needed an opening to slip through in their shadow form?”
“Ah.You thought correctly. Taytah made the glass porous,” I explain.
“How…advantageous.”
My smirk widens at how displeased he sounds about this fresh breach into his domain. “Only the window in this suite. The rest of your castle is airtight.”
He nods, slowly prizing his gaze away from the enchanted glass. “I heard your trunks arrived this morning,”
“They have. So did all my dresses. I told you that having the Voshnan modiste create thirty gowns was overkill.”
He steps into the suite he’s placed at my disposal and closes the door. “Are they to your liking?”
I frown. “I mean, sure. Butthirty?” I stand, then lean back against my vanity and cross my arms. “The instant Mestyla’s found, I’ll be on my way.”
“You still have to kill her.”
I grimace. “Or reason with her.”
He passes his tongue over his teeth, evidently unconvinced that an amicable resolution is possible. If I’m being honest, I’m not certain why I’m holding out hope for one. The Cauldron wouldn’t have prophesied the girl’s end if there was a way of avoiding it.
Brushing away the enigma for now, I say, “I asked the modiste for the bill. She didn’t give it to me. Just informed me that it had been settled. I’m hoping by my father, since I really dislike owing strangers.”
