I was actually on my way back to my room after lying with Ellowyn for a while, alternating between observing her like a hawk and actually having a normal conversation with another human. It seemed we mightactuallybecome friends—a foreign concept that I welcomed.
I’d only made it as far as the staircase that separated our two wings of this hallway when I was nearly tackled and firmly pressed against the unforgiving stone wall by a large body. I didn’t recognize Rohak at first, his face completely obscured in darkness by the hood of his cloak. But there was no mistaking his unique scent of bitter smoke and sweetgrass. It overwhelmed my senses, instantly relaxing my body and mind. I was putty in his hands, even as I felt his magic wind over my skin.
Scared, yes.
But not of him.
Scared of what was causing him to lose control like that.
Rohakneverlost control—it was something that was evident in the way he carried himself, the strict regimen he had in both his professional and personal life.
So to see his magic snaking its way down his arms and over me with the gentle caress of a lover, I knew without any doubt that there was somethingmorehappening.
Then there was a moment that I thought he wanted me—his magic instantly retracted when I said his name, his body relaxing as he leaned closer to me. I swore he sniffed my hair and squeezed my arms before letting me go rather abruptly.
The loss of him was . . . heavy. My body was alight under his touch, surrounded by his smell. My hairs stood on end, and the previous months of heartbreak dulled as he held me. I even debated pulling his lips to mine, but I was ripped back to reality when he used that same mouth to order me to my room.
I huffed as I stomped into my sitting-room-turned-library, nearly toppling a stack of books in my tantrum.
“Motherfucker!” I exclaimed as the big toe on my left foot got caught on the leg of the sofa.
Acting just like the child he chastised.
“Meow.” Cotton scolded from his resting place on top of the one decorative pillow I had in the entire space.
“Oh, not you, too!” I practically shouted while jumping on one foot, clutching my toe in one hand as the other shot out wide in exasperation. “First the General is all broody and dark, ignoring me completely, didn’t eventell mehe was back in Vespera. Then eye-fucks me across the room before curling his lip in disgust while we’re meeting with Lord d’Refan. Andthenhe runs into me before ordering me around with a ‘get to your room,’ and nowyou’regoing to chastise me, too?”
I swore Cotton rolled his big yellow eyes before flicking his grey tail once and laying his head back on his pillow, effectively dismissing me.
“Oh fuck off. Now you’re dismissing me just like him!”
Cotton said nothing, not even a twitch of his tail or paw to know that he’d heard me. But he did. I know he did, the arrogant bastard.
“None of that orange fish for you tomorrow,” I grumbled, finally releasing my foot so I could hobble to my bedroom.
“Hissss,” Cotton called at my back.
“Yeah, I know you don’t like that! But you’re supposed to be onmyside!” I yelled emphatically as I tapped my hand against my chest, Holt’s crystal necklace jostling with the movement.
“Meow, meow,” Cotton said with a yawn.
“Ugh, no. I can’t just go talk to him.”
“Meoowwww.”
“Yes, Iknowthat would be the mature thing to do. But he . . . he doesn’t want to see me.” All the bluster evaporated as I came to that depressing realization. He didn’t come speak to me—not to apologize, not even to thank me for continuing his letter sorting while he was away in Hestin.
He simply ignored me.
I sighed as my body deflated.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered to Cotton, who meowed softly in return. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll get you some orange fish tomorrow. Even though I hate the way it smells.”
Cotton meowed in contentment before turning back to his nap.
I sighed again, pulling wild curls from my face and into a bun at the top of my head. My room, like the library I’d made of my sitting room, was a disaster. There were books and wine glasses strewn about. My most precious artifacts—the books the Librarian gave me—sat under my bed in a trunk I’d found. Outof habit, I fingered the crystal necklace that once belonged to my adoptive father, Holt.
I wonder what he’d think of me now.
