“Do youwantthe bed?” I asked, bracing a palm against the door. Gods, Greaves still stood outside. I retreated a step for his sake, not mine.
She circled me, fingers curling into my vest, dragging me forward.
Blonde hair flashed to black, and I flinched, grabbing her wrist. She laughed and rushed toward me, but I backed away, mantle slamming against the door.
Her breath hitched, eyes clearing from desire to concern as she searched my face. “What’s wrong?”
I frowned, glaring at her hand. Memories surfaced, a storm gathering at the edge of my consciousness, dark and crashing.
My grip dug into the back of her head in a furious attempt to drive the vision away. I pulled her to me and kissed her. Harsh. Rough. Forcing her mouth open, chasing the essence of wine on her tongue. Her lips moved in time with mine. She stumbled as I surged forward. I caught her hips, lifted her. Her legs wrapped around me, fingers tangled in my hair, yanking hard.
Pleasure flared. Then it died.
The wine turned to ash.
I tore my mouth away, choking on the ghosts of my past clawing at my throat.
Nienna pulled back, her hold loosening.
“Don’t stop,” I growled, falling onto the bed with her. Our clothes vanished. The buttons on my trousers gave way under her hands.
Her blue eyes darkened, bleeding into dark brown.
A snarl ripped from my chest, and I snatched her hips, jerking her closer.
I buried myself in her. Not for escape—but tostay. Her fire, her brightness anchored me to the present, grounding every nerve screaming with memory.
Those memories were corpses, whispers from the grave. Dust. Eldeiade was dead.
And I would never be treated that way again.
I stifled a gasp as hinges creaked. My eyes snapped wide, mind scrambling to place the figures slipping inside. One edged along the wall; the other eased the door shut behind them
The person moving wore a dress.
I exhaled hard and dropped my head to the pillow with a groan. Sharing a room brought complications I hadn’t prepared for.
Freya crossed to Nienna’s side of the bed, eyes downcast. She tapped her gently, whispering a quiet greeting. Nienna moaned, rolled into me, and buried her face in my chest.
I tugged the sheet over her shoulders and nodded at the maid. “Draw the curtains.”
“You’re worse than they are,” Nienna mumbled into the crook of my arm.
“The sun waits for no one.”
Fabric scraped along the rods, and muted light slipped through. Greaves stood just inside the door, fatigue etched into every line of his face. He was likely sleeping with the staff—and getting less sleep than I did. My rest had been broken by clawing dreams. I placed the blame solely on Nereus and his rifling through my thoughts.
Or Nienna—she stirred things I had buried, dusted off the trauma, bringing it back into the light.
“Will we have another midday meeting?” she mumbled from beneath the covers.
“If my queen requests such, I’m at her disposal.”
I tracked Freya as she moved through the room. She swapped out the water basin, raised her hand, and reignited the mage lights. Quiet and efficient, she finished her tasks and slipped out. Greaves followed.
“Mmm. I think we have topics to discuss.” Nienna surfaced, pushing hair from her face and resting her cheek on my chest.
“Oh?” I asked, in no mood to get off the bed.
