I startle as something warm and wet scrapes across my hand. Lifting my head, I find a pair of glowing eyes staring back at me.
“Cat,” I blub, reaching out to him. “You came back.”
The wonderful creature presses himself to my side and stays there, purring, as I cry some more.
I may be the quiet one, but I am also the practical one. As I sniffle into my friend’s fur, I decide I will cry this all out, and in the morning be ready to face my future again. I will hold my head high and—
I freeze at the sound of a door unlocking.
The sound came not from the direction of the servant’s door, but from the opposite side of the room. Launching myself upright, I stare as a mosaic panel opens to admit a narrow strip of candlelight.
As well as the king.
My breath stills in my lungs at the sight of him. Gone is the armored coat, and the shirt that does remain is openat his chest. His boots are missing, and he appears to be working at removing his belt as he steps into the room.
“You performed admirably today,” he says.
The door closes behind him with a snick.
“And I wish to thank you.”
11
I’m frozen in place, completely unable to tear my eyes away, yet a thousand thoughts fly through my mind as I gape at the king.
Why is he here?
Where are his clothes?
Why is he continuing to remove his clothes?
The king, oblivious to my panic, moves deeper into the room, his glossy horns reflecting the dim light. “I apologize for my delay,” he says, his attention on his belt, which seems to be snagged on something. “I needed to tend to something urgent.”
He turns slightly, revealing a small pillow tucked under one arm. My heartbeat, already thunderous, throbs against my ears.
Stars above. He intends tostayhere.
I start as he jerks the belt loose with a snap and begins winding it about his fist, the leather creaking against his hand.
“If you would kindly let me know,” he says, “which side of the bed you prefer that I—”
I can hear no more. Pushing myself back, I roll off the other side of the mattress and onto my feet, immediately dropping the rest of my body into a defensive position.
The Dragon King looks at me then. Gawks, really.
“What are you doing?” he says.
I don’t answer him. I’m not sure I can. My mouth seems to have stopped functioning. The cat, who has watched all this with little interest, yawns.
The king’s head tilts to the side. “Why is your face wet?”
“You will answer me first,” I say, my voice breathier than I wish. “What are you doing in my bedchamber?”
He gestures toward a darkened window. “It’s night. Where else would I be?”
I have the sudden and uncharacteristic urge to grab my own pillow and throw it at him. “Inyourbedchamber,” I snap.
He looks baffled. “Then how would the staff believe we are fated?”
