The young female’s dark eyes flared with anger, but she could not gainsay me. She may be used to having her way as the lady of the castle, but when I was in residence, she was nothing and no one. But she was not afraid of me, either. I let myself enjoy the chagrin on her face.
Lyrena only waited until the door was closed before tipping a painting forward to check the stone wall behind it. “Glad you said it, so I didn’t have to. That one is a snake.”
I sighed, my eyes drifting to the sweet oblivion of the bed. “They are all snakes.” I paused, rethinking. “Vipers.”
That earned a smirking chuckle from Lyrena. How she still managed it, after everything we’d seen and endured, I’d never know.
She must have deemed the bedroom secure, because she crossed to the travel packs she’d shucked on the floor and began unlacing the top of mine. “Cyara gave me annoyingly thorough directions on how I should tend to you—”
“Lyrena.” She only stopped because I used the same tone with her as I had on Palomides’ niece. Unlike Synora, Lyrena did not retreat. She lifted her golden brows and gave me a look that dared me to push her. Of course, I did. “You are my Goldstone Guard, my Knight, my friend. You do not have to unpack for me or dress me,” I said firmly.
She dismissed that argument and went back to work. “Cyara does it.”
“As if I could ever get her to stop.” I did enjoy being pampered. But I did not require it. I’d spent twenty years locked away in the water gardens with only my nursemaid and my torturers for company. I was perfectly capable of dressing myself.
I closed the space between us and kicked the pack hard, sending it sprawling across the floor and out of Lyrena’s reach. She flashed a menacing smile, all gold teeth, letting the warrior show. I crossed my arms.
“I know you will not consent to sleep anytime soon. But talk to Vera and set the watch outside my door. I can manage for myself in here.”
Her desire to argue was so deep, so visceral, that I thought she might not be able to control it. I hardly expected blind subservience from my Knights. But she recognized it for what itwas—an order. And despite her preference, one she did not have a good reason to fight.
Lyrena stepped back, her orange-gold cape billowing behind her. How she kept her goldstone armor gleaming even when we traveled in snow and muck, I’d never know. She was every inch my glorious golden knight as she nodded. “Stay out of trouble, Veyka.” She softened it with a wink.
After days of close contact, with Arran in proximity and my nerves near fraying, I exhaled a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her.
As I expected, the travel pack I’d carried with me for the last several days was a treasure trove. I’d only needed to breach the top several inches over the course of our journey to the coast. It was too damn cold to change clothing or bathe. But now that there was a fire roaring in the hearth—I’d have to remind myself to feed it, since neither of my fire-wielding friends were here to tend it for me—I was warm enough to strip out of my layers of travel-worn clothing.
I almost regretted sending Synora away, if only because she might have drawn me a bath. But I made do with a soft cloth and water heated in a kettle by the fire. By the time I changed into a soft nightgown of translucent dove gray silk and reached for the silver gilt hairbrush, my mind had quieted.
The last hurdle was my hair. At least it did not reach all the way down to my waist these days. I untangled the plait and began to work the brush through the layers. It took an inordinate amount of time. I allowed myself to get lost in the repetitive strokes. It was not quite as soothing as Cyara brushing my hair, but it helped. One stroke, another and another. My eyes drifted closed. Maybe, just maybe, tonight I would actually be able to sleep.
Then the door opened.
The scent of spice and earth accosted my senses before I’d even managed to get my eyes open. But after I’d grabbed the dagger off the vanity.
My first instinct was to scream into his mind, to snarl right back at the beast. But he’d asked me to stay away. So it was my voice that demanded for the second time in only a few days, “What are you doing here?”
His own travel pack was slung over his broad shoulder. He’d taken the time to brush his own dark locks, tying the back in a neat knot at the base of his skull. I wanted to drive my fingers into it and muss that perfection. And then perhaps I would wrap my fingers around his throat and strangle him.
Arran dropped his pack and kicked the door shut behind him. I imagined whoever guarded our door cringing in the corridor.Not our door. My door.Whoever it was, they had not barred his access.
I should have expected this. It was exactly the sort of thing that the Arran who had arrived in Baylaur all those months ago would have done. Except that neither of us was that person any longer.
He crossed his arms and planted his feet, ready for a fight. “You have made a point of reminding me that I am the High King of Annwyn.”
“And?” I leaned down to pick up the brush I’d dropped to the floor, still clutching the dagger in its place, though I loosened my hold. Any stabbing would be premeditated at this point.
When I straightened, Arran’s eyes were burning with black fire. I hadn’t meant to do it, but I realized immediately. The nightgown had long sleeves, but its only closure was a single clasp situated at the midpoint between my navel and breasts. And when I’d leaned down to retrieve the brush...
It was almost laughable. How many times had I used my curves against him, to try and manipulate him into doing what I wanted?
I wanted was him desperately.
And I knew that if I had him, my heart might never recover.
Physical joining would not restore what we had lost. Arran had seen the darkness within me, the scars left by the water gardens, and loved me through it. Because of it. Now it felt like darkness and scars were all I had left.
That brutal scowl was back in place on his face. I knew what that meant. He did not want me to know how he was feeling. How much he wanted me. “The High King sleeps with the High Queen,” he growled.
