She drifted up off the chair and soared over to hover above the bed with a scowl on her painted face. “Must I?”
“You must.”
“Stop talking to yourself, Cyrene.” Kieran fluffed the covers and rolled over to present his back.
“I’m not.”
With a groan, he yanked the covers over his head.
“See?” I told her. “Now you’re interfering with my marriage.”
She sniffed. “I know when I’m not wanted.” With a shrill wail, she spiraled across the room and disappeared through the closed door to the sitting area.
Good grief.
I closed my eyes. Rolled onto my side.
Rolled onto my other side.
“Could you please hold still?” Kieran grumbled after my fifth adjustment. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Try counting luminsprites. It helps me sometimes when I can’t fall asleep.”
It was such an unexpectedly kind suggestion that I didn’t know how to respond. So I said nothing, focusing instead on slowing my breathing and imagining luminsprites dancing behind my closed eyelids.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted away…
I woke to sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains and an empty bed beside me. Kieran had neatly arranged the covers on his side, making it look like he’d never been there at all. Quandary still slept on his perch, his tiny snores punctuated by wisps of smoke. At least Lady Cordelia wasn’t looming over me.
I sat up, pushing hair from my face as I surveyed my new home. Yesterday, I’d been a free woman with my own workshop and life. Today, I was the vampire queen, married to a man who both was and wasn’t the person I’d once cared for.
I squared my shoulders.
I was Cyrene Moonwhisper Thornwick, now Cyrene Nightblood, I supposed, though the name felt odd. A joy witch, I infused light and happiness into various physical forms. If this gloomy castle or my new not-husband thought they could extinguish my spirit, they were sorely mistaken.
I would find my footing here. I would continue my craft. I would create a life of my own, with or without their cooperation.
While I was at it, I’d discover what he was hiding behind his gorgeous, guarded blue eyes.
And if he was keeping any more secrets, I’d charm them right out of him.
Preferably before breakfast.
Joy might be my magic, but payback was starting to feel pretty powerful too.
CHAPTER SIX
KIERAN
The council chamber smelled like iron and old incense, the scent of tradition and control. Tradition and control were two things my council never ran short on, though imagination had clearly been rationed.
I sat at the head of the long black-marble table, my spine straight, my expression carved from stone while torchlight painted the room in shadows.
To my right, Lord Rathley adjusted the collar of his formal black robe.
“Your Majesty,” he said, his smooth voice carrying the usual sting of warning, “we must address the matter of your…arrangement.”
