He muttered something, but gave a nod.
“One more thing,” I said, tucking Zayn into my side. “Zayn is one of my Chosen. I strongly suggest that you show him the respect he deserves.”
“Your Chosen?” Syde queried. “Not merely a temporary titillation?”
I hissed.
Fiercely.
“My. Chosen.”
Syde looked away and murmured, “Understood.”
“Mother,” I rumbled, and she jolted at both my use of that word, and my tone. “Am I understood?”
It took her a moment, but she gave a nod. “Yes.”
“Excellent,” I said, turning on my heel, and guiding Zayn with me.
It was down to our people now.
Well… technically.
After all, I always had a contingency plan.
“Wow.Your room—sorry,Royal Chamber—is cold. And I don’t mean in a temperature sense,” Zayn concluded, looking all around with a deep frown creasing his brow.
“Yes, well. The High Empress and Emperor Consort believed the High Lord Heir of the Excetra Crown being permitted creature comforts would be detrimental to the…programmingof the royal heir they wished to manufacture in me.”
“Like, make you soft?”
“I suppose.”
“That’s stupid. Just by having some things you like and stuff that brings you comfort, and shows your personality?”
He looked so put out for me, so very upset that I’d been raised this way. Well,raisedwas a bit of an overstatement.
I took in the large space of my former room with different eyes now, surveying the polished black marble walls with the green and yellow veins. The stone floor that was etched with snake markings. No rugs to add any sense of homeliness. Those familiar alchemical orbs that were a feature throughout the Basilisk Dominion were set high in the walls, offering functional illumination. A built-in stone closet was situated over to the right, inset into the wall, beside the door to the ensuite bathroom.
There was a flat plane of stone functioning as a desk, where I’d conducted my studies as a boy, with a high-backed chair that had a thin leather pad. An ink set that I’d left upon it caught my eye, along with some old written tests I’d undertaken.
The bed was oriented against the far left wall, made of bedrock with just a thin mattress. A gray blanket and a single pillow rested upon it.
Yes, his assessment was sound.
He continued looking around, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt.
I went to him and laid my hand on his back.
He spun around to face me.
I flicked a spark of my magic at him, replacing the shirt with one of his favored metallic T-shirts. “A little better? Not so restrictive? Well in a formal, buttoned-up way—certainly not in the clinging-so-very-lusciously-tight-to-your-body sense, as you enjoy that immensely.”
His lips quirked. “You’ve really got my number, Vax. And thanks. I love it.”
I smiled. But it slipped away all too quickly as I told him, “I apologize. Profusely. But even that isn’t enough.” I traced myfingers over the intricate artwork decorating his right arm. “So very sorry, my darling little Ifrit.”
He looked at me with a delicate querying sparkle in his eyes. “All that sorry for what?”
