“I’ve already had a word with the palace tailor about the pants. He’ll have some prepared for you within a few days.”
“That is unnecessary,” I protest, “I have a closet full of them at my uncle’s. I will go see him tomorrow and I’m sure he will be reasonable. I’ll see to it that he is.”
The general quirks an eyebrow at that. “I think you just might. But don’t. I’d hate for you to deprive him of all the joy of his scheming.”
“We’ll see,” I say.
“Awri has some things to attend before she collects you tomorrow. Rest in the morning, explore if you like, and she will come find you when she is done. Goodnight, Shivaria,” the general says, dipping his head before striding down the hall toward his chambers.
“Goodnight, General.”
He stops a few paces from my door. “Xeyvian. You may call me Xeyvian.”
I watch him vanish around the corner and slide into my room, curious about the changes I see in him. I’d thought that revealing too much of my true self would exclude me from his favor, from the favor of the feyn in general. Perhaps there is a finer line that needs to be walked between the truth and the lie of the woman I am, if I am to be fully accepted, dangerous as it will be.
Whatever changes are happening with him, I will take them all gladly, with or without explanation. Anything is better than the untrusting, brooding male I’d met on my uncle’s lawns.
The sprites are still nowhere to be seen when I make my way back into the comfort of my room, and I’m glad they didn’t wait up for my sake. I ready myself for bed and dip my hand into the hidden pocket of my cloak. My fingers brush against the silky lining and the blood drains from my body in a woosh.
The small pouch is missing. It must have fallen out in the woods.
I stand at the end of the bed, staring at the covers, debating whether I should even attempt to sleep. Accepted or not, my demon will never be apart of what I can reveal to my newfriends.
Over the years I mixed a number of concoctions after Leanna trained me in the art of herbs. After abandoning my attempts with well-known sleeping draughts when I found that they could do nothing to quell the darkness inside me, I began to trial the ingestion of poison in small doses. The latter had not always gone over well and often kept me awake into the early hours of the morning for very different reasons.
Despite all of this, I head out the door, willing to face Media after all, if it means that she might have something to keep the darkness at bay until dawn.
“Kishek.” I greet the male with a dip of my head.
He seems as surprised to see me coming from my room as I am to find him lounging against the wall across from it. He smooths the line of his tunic, pushing off the marble to stand before me.
“I was just looking for Awri,” he explains.
“I’m sorry, she isn’t here.”
The femalehashardly left my side, but unless the male thinks we are sharing a bed, it seems an odd hour to have company.
“I see.” He frowns. “Sorry to bother you.”
He starts toward his room, fists bouncing gently against his thighs when he stops and turns to me asking, “Is there something I can help you with?”
I’m sure I look perfectly puzzled by his question when he continues, “I thought you might need something? If you are leaving your room this late.”
“I was just heading to the kitchen for a sleeping draught,” I say.
I’m not sure why, but he smiles at that and asks, “May I accompany you?”
I nod. Because what can I do? At least he might serve as a distraction for Media.
“I don’t sleep well either,” he says, as we start toward the kitchens. “Not since the war.”
I glance at the male from the corner of my eye, wondering exactly what visions of the atrocities he committed toward my people keep him awake at night. At least it haunts him.
“I can imagine,” I say simply.
“I would be happy to help you make a draught, if you like,” he offers, “It took me years to find the right combination of herbs to keep the dreams away.”
I eye him curiously, when he chuckles at some unspoken thought.
