Thalia pats the bed. “Come on, darling.”
I unbutton my doublet and lie back on the pillows, feeling leaching from my limbs, thoughts floating from my head, until I’m barely anyone at all.
Chapter Seventeen
I awake to a thump outside my door. Someone yelps. Another thump.
Barely alert, I throw a dressing gown over my thin nightdress and fling the door open.
Emmett is standing there, shirtless, a blanket and pillow on the floor beside him.
Next to him is Rhion, clutching his cheek and swearing.
“What is going on?” I exclaim.
Emmett shakes out his hand. “I punched Rhion.”
Rhion curses again. “I tripped over him! He was lying on the floor in the dark!”
Dawn is rising, casting the long corridor of the castle in soft pink light and long purple shadows.
“Why are you outside my door?” I ask, sleepy and confused.
“I needed to speak with you, Your Majesty,” Rhion says urgently.
I turn to Emmett. “And you?”
He doesn’t answer, just looks at the floor. His hair brushes against his bare shoulder, and my eyes drift down his torso.
Look at his face,I chide myself. Now is not the time to be gettingdistracted by the planes of his muscled chest. His body has grown sharper in our time apart.
“Emmett?”
“I’ve been sleeping here,” he admits.
“Excuse me?” I ask, confused.
“I’ve been sleeping here,” he repeats.
“No, I heard you the first time. I’m confused as to why.”
He gestures to Rhion. “To keep you safe from creeps like him.”
“I’m on your side,” Rhion protests. He’s in a black doublet embroidered with purple crocuses; it’s strange to see him not in one of his ridiculous outfits. The only human bit of his ensemble is a cameo he’s wearing on a chain.
“You think I’m going to believe that after you brought my friends here?” I accuse him.
Rhion sighs. “Allow me to explain myself.”
Emmett glances anxiously down the hall, clearly aware that anyone could see us here.
“Fine,” I huff. “Come in, the both of you.”
Like scolded schoolboys, they obey. I slam the door behind us. They take the two silk armchairs set by my fireplace. It’s a little funny to see such large, masculine men in my decidedly fussy and feminine room. They’re like toy soldiers in a dollhouse.
I perch on the end of my bed. The silk linens are mussed from my fitful sleep. I’ve got a raging headache and would like nothing more than to be unconscious right now. The ghost of Emmett’s kiss still haunts me.
I point between them. “Explain.”
