We walk in silence the rest of the way until we’re inside, where he gives me a quick “Good night,” and walks away. It’s abrupt, but that’s all right. We’re nothing to each other, so I can’t expect lingering moments before we part ways.
I start to head up the stairs when Ophelia stops me. “Miss Thornrose, your room’s been moved.”
I halt and turn around. “Moved?”
“His Majesty moved it.”
“To where?”
She leads me in the direction that Feylin disappeared, down a long hallway. She stops at an ornately carved door and grins.
“Here.”
She opens the door to a room that’s more lush than the last one. Golden sconces adorn the walls, throwing light onto the thick white bedspread accented with pink pillows. There’s also an overstuffed chair with a white fur throw atop it, a fireplace crackling with a cheerful fire, a desk, a vanity toppedwith lotions and creams, and a sparkling chandelier that’s so wide I wonder if I could swing from it.
This room is way too nice.
“This is my room? You must be wrong.”
Ophelia shakes her head as she opens the wardrobe to show me new clothes. “His Majesty picked it out himself. He wants you near him.”
My jaw drops. “Near him?”
She jerks her head toward the door. “His room is just across the hall.”
Before I can utter another word, she leaves. I run my fingers over the wooden surfaces. All the furniture is carved. It’s beautiful.
When I reach the desk, I stop. A cream-colored envelope sits atop it. I dig my thumb beneath the seal and pull out a small note written on cardstock. The handwriting is confident, the words written quickly but legibly.
So that you don’t have to sleep on the floor.
Feylin didn’t sign it. He didn’t have to because I know who wrote it.
He knew, or at least after the shower this morning, he’d puzzled it out. He switched my room so that I don’t have to sleep on a pile of dresses, and so that I won’t be flung into his morning shower.
For someone who gets under my skin so badly, in this moment all I can process is how grateful I am.
And how, for the first time in two nights, I can finally sleep on a bed.
22
Even with a luxurious pillow-topped mattress cradling my back and a down-stuffed duvet pulled up to my ears, I’m still wide awake.
After slipping into a robe, I pad from the bedroom with every intention of finding the kitchen for real this time. My gaze falls on Feylin’s door for a long moment before I force myself to look away and head into the bowels of the castle.
The halls are silent, my slapping feet the only sound against the marble-tiled floors. Pools of light unspool from the moon and splash atop the cold stone. Everything’s in shades of gray and white—beautiful but cold.
A chill sweeps down my spine as the feeling of being watched overcomes me.
My mouth twitches into a smile. Is it Feylin, following me? No, no. Certainly he wouldn’t drop me in the room across from his so that he could spy?
Or maybe he did.
The quiet sound of shuffling fills my ears. Yes, someone’s definitely following. That sneaky fae. He probably smelled meget up or heard me open the door and just had to know what I was doing.
How annoying.
Well, two can play at this game.
