A frantic rhythm started in my chest, and a single, stunned word escaped my lips. “Now?” I questioned.
The boy only nodded, then scurried away down the corridor like a mouse retreating from fire.
Gideon looked up from where he leaned against a marble arch, folding a piece of dried fruit into his mouth. He must’ve heard the exchange because his posture sharpened.
“You’re not going up there by yourself,” he said casually, but his tone was tight.
“I don’t want to cause a scene,” I said, my hands clenched at my sides.
“You wouldn’t be. You’d be accompanied.” He smiled thinly. “That’s allowed.”
So, I let him walk with me.
The castle had grown quieter since the banquet. A stillness. The kind that comes before a storm breaks. Each sconce we passed hissed softly with candlelight. Long corridors stretchedlike ribs through the stonework, ribcages of a palace that swallowed its guests and digested them slowly.
When we reached the blackwood door of Kaelen’s solar, Gideon offered a look that wasn’t quite a smile.
“You’ve survived Vorrhounds, collapsing cliffs, Mimics, and a sentient maze. Whatever this is, you’ve got it.”
My hand hovered over the iron handle. “Thanks, but I’m not afraid.”
“I didn’t say you were. But I know the look of someone about to hold their breath.”
The door opened before I could knock.
Kaelen stood within, silhouetted by the golden flicker of lamps and the pale shine of the glass windows behind him. He looked his usual pristine self, not a single hair or thread out of place.
His mouth smiled, but the rest of his face remained still.
“Come,” he said smoothly. “Just you.”
Gideon shifted beside me. “I’m her guard.”
Kaelen’s gaze flicked to him. “Not here, you aren’t. I asked for the lady.”
I exhaled slowly and glanced at Gideon. He gave me a tiny nod, his brow furrowed, and muttered, “Knock if you want me to knock him out.”
I tried to smile, but it faltered.
The door closed, and the slam of the wood against the frame felt like teeth biting down on my courage.
The solar was spacious but sterile. Pale gray walls. Silver-threaded tapestries depicting Caerthaine’s naval triumphs. The shelves were lined with pristine books that looked untouched. A decanter of dark wine sat on a crystal tray, with two goblets set beside it, but they poured wine into only one.
Kaelen circled to the writing table and gestured to a curved-back chair.
“Please. Let’s talk like civilized people.”
I didn’t want to sit, but I did. Reluctantly, I settled into the chair, my body's protest a silent argument with my will.
He sat closely across from me, crossing his legs in a leisurely manner. His collar was open enough to seem effortless, not casual. A man performing elegance.
“I’ve had the seamstresses begin your fittings,” he said, pouring more wine. “We’ll need at least two gowns for the ceremony. Possibly more if we want portraits to circulate. I’m also completing the guest list for the ceremony,” he said, unrolling a new sheet. “Of course, your god would expect a mention. Perhaps we should also include a display for the coastal temples. Fire draws unease here, best to reframe it as symbolic rather than literal.”
“I haven’t signed the contract,” I mumbled.
He smiled as though I’d said something charming.
“You’ll sign it. We both know you will.”
