The thought made me grin. “You’re the one who wanted to finish.”
She walked toward the door and cracked it open a slit.
“You need to get dressed,” Ciaran’s voice said stiffly from the other side of the door. “Rykr’s friend is back, and this time he has company. We’re in Amahle’s room. It’s bigger. And … quieter.”
Thorne?
Shit.
I hadn’t allowed myself to think about that whole situation all night. After the experience with the Seidr, my mind had been plenty occupied.
Seren closed the door but didn’t turn around. “I guess that means he heard us last night,” I said, getting up from the bed. I went over to the tub. Drops of water were still on the bottom of it, from when we’d used it during the night. Turning the water on, I soaked a cloth in the warm stream, then carried it to her.
Turning Seren to face me, I knelt in front of her, then cleaned the mess I’d made on her. She set her hand on my shoulder. “Company?”
I stood and held her gaze. Would she be angry that I hadn’t told her? “It’s not what you think. Or who you think.”
Seren crossed her arms, pressing the sheet against her perfect breasts. “Who do I think it is?”
“More Regulation soldiers. But it’s not.” I went back to the tub, wiped myself clean, and shut the water off.
The truth was, I hadn’t been ready for this meeting last night. I wasn’t sure if it would have changed things between Seren and me.
And after everything … I hadn’t wanted to risk it.
The night we’d had, despite how it had started, had been incredible. Selfishly, I hadn’t been willing to let anything take that from us.
We dressed in silence, a heaviness creeping in. Her thoughts, a hum in my head that I’d learned to block out, were unusually quiet, as though she was afraid to think too much.
I tensed as I finished strapping my sword at my hip. Seren gave me an odd look. “It doesn’t quite feel real, does it?”
“What?”
“Last night. It was like a dream.”
A smile played at my lips. “A dream? Or a recurring nightmare?”
She chuckled. “Hilarious.” Then she came over toward me and kissed me. “Ready?”
“Does it make a difference?” I arched a brow. I wasn’t sure that I was.
We crossed the hallway and Seren knocked. Amahle opened the door immediately, ushering us in.
The room was only slightly larger than ours, but it had the benefit of a window to the street. Thorne occupied a large space over by the window and at his side—Brogan Ragnall.
Seren’s knees nearly buckled. A strangled cry tore from her throat and she was gone from my side, flying toward her father.
I’d tried to prepare for this meeting since the moment Thorne had told me the man was here and helping him, but the sight of him stirred fury in my blood, my hand dropping instinctively to the hilt of my sword.
Brogan caught his daughter in a tight embrace, and I tore my gaze away. The man who murdered my mother should be a savage, heartless monster, not a loving father with a family. I wanted him to be the former—needed him to be.
Ciaran sat awkwardly on a chair, looking absolutely miserable. Amahle sidled up to me. “Nice work,” she whispered with a wry smile. “Ciaran spent the night on my floor just to get away from you two.”
Seren pulled away from Brogan, wiping tears from her cheeks and then whirled back to look at me. “Did you know my father was here?” Then she stiffened slightly, as though remembering the hatred I’d relayed before—and the fact that I’d never met her father. “Father …” She pushed back a strand of hair, nervously. “It’s a long story, but this is?—”
“I know who he is—what’s happened.” Brogan lifted his chin and held my gaze.
The simplicity of his words was clear enough: he knew me as Prince Calix Warrick.
