And then my brain catches up and I realize it must be him.
The king.
He is in the same posture that he sat in when I first arrived in the throne room. Hands planted on his knees, legs spread wide. I can feel him looking at me. I already know, even with his face obscured in shadow, that he is tilting his head, evaluating me in that way of his.
I am fully clothed, but I pull the covers up higher as if they might protect me from his gaze. That he’s been sitting there watching me sleep makes me feel exposed, and I don’t like it.
“What are you doing in my room?”
“I asked in the kitchen if you had ordered dinner. They said no. I began to worry that you had thrown yourself out the window.”
“Well, you did say there was a service elevator. I’m much more likely to take that than I am to fling myself to the rocks below.”
He shrugs. “You would be surprised.”
His words send a chill down my spine. “Well, I’m fine. I just fell asleep.”
“You must be hungry.”
“I’m not,” I say. But my stomach growls, calling me a liar. I can tell by the way he shifts that he’s heard it.
He leans forward, a shaft of moonlight falling over his face. “Don’t be foolish. You will come downstairs and eat.”
“I will not,” I say. Refusing him just to establish some form of independence.
“Enough,” he says.
He stands and makes his way over to the bed, holding his hand out to me. “Do not engage in foolishness with me, sparrow.”
“My name is Lilith.”
“I know,” he says. “But you are Lilith to everyone. To me, you are sparrow.” I look at his extended hand. Ignore it, and I get out of bed. My body feels heavy. So does my soul.
“There is no need to be difficult,” he says, his words a sharp reproach. “Remember, I did not force you to come here.”
“No. You were only going to force my sister.”
He makes a noise that I assume is agreement.
“I did,” he says. “But it has all worked out in the end.”
I grind my back teeth together, deciding that there is no point in continuing to fight with him. I gave in to despair earlier, and I won’t do that again. My lifetime of careful planning has crumbled. I made an impulsive decision. Something I’ve never done before in my life. And now I’m dealing with the consequences.
“Why are we taking the stairs?” I complain as I realize he’s leading us back down that tight, steep spiral.
“I prefer it,” he says.
“And is everything about your preference?”
“Yes.”
I ponder this. He’s the king, so I suppose that’s true. Nothing has ever been about my preference. I can’t even access that. The level of selfishness.
“I guess that’s what it’s like when you have endless resources so no one ever has to compromise or share.”
“I also have no family,” he says. “Tell me about yours.”
“Surely you’ve read about my family in whatever dossier you received about Eve.”
