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Not an easy thing to do when he keeps complaining I’m some pathetic failed seductress.
I’m actually thrilled with my gifts, especially the lightstone. It allowed me to bathe and color my hair in the evening, and now I have some peace of mind and moments alone to look at the books.
But first I stare at the sword. It’s indeed the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned. Fine, it’s the first thing I’ve ever owned, but it’s still so fascinating, so well built. The gems are of a high quality, a type of amethyst I’ve never seen before, in a bright purple, and expertly cut. We learned about weapons and jewelry and how to estimate their value, since it’s such a useful skill, so I know it costs a fortune. I just never imagined I’d have something like that.
I sheathe the sword, annoyed at myself. What a sad little creature I am, to be so impressed with a simple sword, a simple replica. It was probably lying among Marlak’s stolen treasure, and giving it to me was easier than commissioning a new one.
It’s still a fascinating sword, but shouldn’t change my opinion of Marlak, who’s set on killing his brother and will do anything to achieve his goals. Marlak, who told me to my face that he bought me like a cow. Marlak, who’s given me a stolen sword, as if he had any right to do that.
Oh, no.
In reality, Dusklight is not mine, and will never be.
I feel deflated, but can’t summon any anger, and perhaps it’s for the best. I need to think about my mission in a rational way, think about what’s best for me, what’s best for my kingdom, and not let my personal feelings about the disgraced, murderous fae prince get in the way.
Despite wanting to spend more time looking at the sword, I take the books. Really, get a grip, Astra, it’s just a sword.
There are five books in the bag, all bound in thick leather. These are also luxurious editions—perhaps also stolen.
The smell of paper, mixed with my own hair color chemicals, takes me back to Otavio’s study. The feeling I get is strangely bitter, considering I miss the tower. Do I miss it? I’d better check the books, instead of asking myself asinine questions.
There’s a book about the history of the Crystal Court, which should be interesting to compare to what I learned. There’s one with old fae runes, and it’s also incredible, since we don’t learn about them in Krastel.
I’m excited again. One book is about the history of the Shadow War, the one where the sword Dawnshadow was used. I’m curious to see how its account is different. A large book is a Tiurian language guide, much larger than any book about that language I’ve seen, and this is probably where I’m going to start. There’s also a book with a faded title. I open it and see: Tiuris, the Fallen Kingdom. I’m not sure what my heart does, but it feels like a somersault.
My people. No, not my people. I’m a Krastel citizen now.
Am I?
I have studied some history of the darksouls, but all it brought me was pain and shame. Perhaps I should eventually read this, and see if it differs from what I studied, but I decide to focus on the language guide first.
Soon I find azalee, which is indeed a Tiurian word. Odd for me to remember it, when I studied so little of this language.
I can’t believe the meaning I read. Wife. But it says it’s wife used as an endearing word, a loving word.
Great, so that’s what I’ve been hearing in my dreams: wife. Perhaps the foreign word made me miss the sarcasm in it, the mockery. Way to ruin what once was my only comfort. The new question in my mind, however, is why he’s using a Tiurian endearment in my dreams. Why that language?
I don’t know what to think, but at least I have something to read to shut away my thoughts. I pick up the Shadow War book and lie in bed, starting from the first page.
Soon I realize that it’s detailed in a way that’s boring. The writer was not a historian but a general, and this is a dry account that includes numbers, materials, movements of troops. I’m reading the way they figured out how to make tents that could be used in the rain, when I find my eyes closing and set the book aside.
I’m tired of having my boobs squeezed in a dress, so I take it off and lie down only in my undergarments. Focusing on hot milk, delicious hot milk, I tell myself that’s what I’m going to dream about. See? Sometimes I know what I want.
I realize I’m in that strange palace, from where I can see the top of a forest and the night sky. For a moment, I’m aware I’m dreaming, sitting in a strange, empty kitchen with dusty counters. The Amethyst Palace is abandoned, and yet I’m here with Marlak, sitting at a mahogany table by a tall window. There’s no moon tonight, only bright stars and darkness.
He takes two cups, holding them with one hand, and a jug of milk, and puts them on the table.
“Trouble sleeping?” His voice is rough and low and reverberates through my entire body. Entire body.
“You’re going to wake me up if you keep talking like that.”
“Like what?” His warm chuckle doesn’t help. There’s just something so comforting about it, so… I don’t even know how to explain it.
He holds my cup and stirs the milk with a spoon, warming it slowly so as not to form a layer on top.
I watch his beautiful arms, covered with a long-sleeved shirt, and dare speak my mind. “It feels like an invitation to tear your clothes off.”
He chuckles again. “Well… I wasn’t exactly thinking about it, but if you’re seeing such an invitation, you’re not wrong.” His dark eyes focus on me. “It always stands.”
