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“Three plus the lower chamber.”
“Dungeons?” I asked with more interest.
He looked at me with a glimmer of curiosity. “Yes. Is that something that you’d like to see?” He raised his eyebrows in a way that said he found me amusing.
“Call me morbid, but I find dungeons have the most history behind them. My brother used to dare me to sneak into the dungeons when we were kids. He thought that I would be terrified, but secretly I loved it. I would sit in an empty cell and in the complete silence I swear I could hear ghosts of the men who had died there.”
“That is incredibly morbid, Emilie.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “They didn’t scare me. They seemed to be sad souls, wandering as if they’d lost their way.”
He continued to stare at me with an odd sort of fascination. Had I shared too much? I had a tendency to do that. My mother would be furious to find that I’d already made a poor impression.
“Sorry. That was an odd thing to share about myself.” I tucked a stray hair behind my ear and bit the inside of my cheek. A nervous habit I hadn’t been able to shake.
“Don’t be sorry. I’d love to know more weird things about you,” he said with a chuckle. I studied his face, but there was no trace of deceptive flattery. He was being honest.
“Where is your brother, by the way? I’m surprised he didn’t join you.”
“Adrien is in Twin Beacons.”
Cyrus gave an understanding nod. Twin Beacons was an island off the coast that guarded Lourova from marauders and other unknown enemies. It was a narrow island with two nearly identical peaks on either end. In between, the land was so low that it often disappeared beneath the waters. From a distance, if one didn’t know better, it looked like there was a passage between the two peaks. Ships attempted to sail right between them, only realizing too late that they were headed straight for a hidden land barrier. It was incredibly effective at protecting our coastal borders.
My brother had been in Twin Beacons for at least three years, training and building allegiance with the troops stationed there. I rarely saw him, but he had his role to play, just as I had mine. One day, when he took over as ruler in Dreslen, those troops would be fiercely loyal to him.
“I hope he’ll be able to join us for the wedding,” Cyrus remarked.
“I believe he intends to.”
We stopped outside of a slate gray door and I realized that we were completely alone. I swallowed and shoved down the bile rising in my throat. Was I expected to share his suite? Wasn’t it improper to sleep in his bed until we were married?
If we were an ordinary couple, I would have no hesitations, but Cyrus wasn’t ordinary. He was a king. And a child out of wedlock wasn’t an heir. There was no way he’d take that risk. Or at least that’s what I told myself.
Could he tell I was breathing heavily? I needed to calm down.
“This is your suite. I figured you might like your own for now. Or even after we’re married, it might be nice to have a space to call your own.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to mask my sigh of relief. “That was thoughtful.”
He offered me another kind smile. “I know this is…uncomfortable.”
“Is it?” I teased.
He let out a soft, nervous laugh, and I was stricken by his beautiful green eyes and unassuming smile. Cyrus wasn’t at all what I thought he would be. “This isn’t my first arranged marriage.”
I leaned against the door to my room, feeling a bit sad for the man before me. “I’m sorry about your late wife.”
“I appreciate that. Isabella was a lovely woman. Anyway, I know it can be awkward at first, but I’m a good man, Emilie. Or at least, I try to be. And I hope that we will become close. I promise to treat you well, and I hope you feel welcome here.”
He seemed genuine, and my heart warmed a little to the idea of marrying him. Even at his age, I could still make out handsome features. I’d never been in love. I’d never felt that emotion that minstrels sang songs about and novelists wrote stories about. But maybe I could learn to love him.
“Thank you,” I said again.
“Right. Well, if you need anything else, I’m down the hall. Marjorie, your handmaid, is also on call. She can get you anything from the kitchen or extra linens. Just say the word. Goodnight, Emilie.”
“Goodnight, Cyrus.”
Inside was a beautiful room, decorated with gold and white and a few pops of my favorite color—purple. A four-post bed with a sleek silk canopy faced the floor-to-ceiling windows. Between the windows was a small sliding door that led to my balcony.
