Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, there are two orange-glazed, chocolate-drizzled croissants accompanying my usual breakfast tray—from the king himself, I presume.
It feels oddly like a taunt.
Like he’s discovered my weakness for bread and sweet treats, and he knows I won’t be able to resist these decadent gifts, even though the last thing I want to be reminded of when I first wake up ishim.
But here I am,reminded of him, reaching for one of the baked goods and taking a bite, begrudgingly chewing while thinking about our encounter last night. About how close he’d gotten to me. How his breath had smelled faintly of the same citrusy glaze I’m now swallowing.
“…Fuck me,” I mumble around a mouthful of the flaky goodness, because it’s delicious, and I’m annoyed at the fact that he’s apparently a gifted chef in addition to being wealthy and beautiful andpowerful andgods,how is it fair for him to have all of these weapons at his disposal?
Annoyance doesn’t stop me from devouring both of the croissants and leaving no crumbs, though. He doesn’t have to know I ate them.
I’ll just tell him I threw them into the fire.
After finishing breakfast, I drag myself into the washroom and ready myself for what the day holds—whatever that may be. I’m torn between plans; I want to pick up where I left off yesterday, after the triumphant moment I shared with Blight. I’m still not thrilled at the idea ofbondingwith one of the creatures I’ve hated for so long, but the urge to further understand them, to find out what this one in particular is truly capable of...it’s undeniably strong at this point.
But I meant what I said last night. I can’t continue to play the role of dutiful servant to the crown—while plotting sedition or otherwise—unless the king holds up his end of our bargain.
So what am I supposed to do next?
This early, and my head is already starting to hurt from thinking about it all.
When I open the door, however, the decision is somewhat made for me: Princess Kestrel is waiting outside.
She’s hugging her arms around herself, her brow furrowed uncertainly. She looks as though I’ve caught her off guard—like she’s been standing in the hallway for some time, debating whether or not to knock on my door.
She composes herself quickly, her dark eyes hardening to their usual cold steel. “Come with me,” she says, beckoning.
Her tone doesn’t invite any questions about where we’re going or why. And, considering I was still debating where to go, anyway, I decide it can’t hurt to follow her.
We make our way up to the next floor, down a narrow hall with plush carpet the color of dried blood. Eventually,we stop outside a door that features the Mouren crest alongside an open hand holding a flame, which seems to be a symbol of hospitality in this kingdom—a guest room.
“I’ll give you a few moments alone,” Kestrel says, reaching for the door knob. “But mind the time. Gareth will be expecting you within the hour.” With that, she pushes the door open and then retreats farther down the hall, pausing at the corner and leaning against the wall, hugging her arms around herself once more. She looks troubled again, unsure of how she ended up in this place, undecided about whether she wants to stay in it.
I don’t dwell on whatever is bothering her, though.
Because when I look into the room, I see Briar standing by the window, waiting for me.
She flashes a crooked, tired little smile, the way I’ve seen her do a hundred times before—the look that always comes after we’ve somehow survived yet another questionable job assignment.
I stumble toward her in a daze. Emotions swell. My breath hitches. I’ve thought about this reunion every day since we were separated, but now I can’t get out any of the things I’d planned to say. “Are you…you’re…”
“Still here,” she says.
The quiet sob that’s lodged in my throat breaks free, and there’s no stopping the ones that follow it. My body is shaking from the force of them as I throw my arms around her hard enough to send us both tumbling into the wall.
Briar laughs as she hugs me back and tries to balance us both, but soon there are tears shining in her eyes to match my own.
Finally, I take a step away, catch my breath, and look herover. She seems tired, but otherwise in one piece. I exhale slowly.
“You’re okay?” A question clings to the words, even as I decide shelooksokay; I still can’t believe she’s actually standing here.
She flashes another crooked smile. “It hasn’t exactly been a vacation. But they didn’t torture me too badly. Although, I was…” She trails off. Struggles to find words. Her voice is quieter when she finally continues: “I was in the dark. Literally. Figuratively. I didn’t know if you were even still alive, I…” She swallows several times, her gaze sweeping over me as mine did over her, noticing all the scrapes and bruises I’ve collected.
Between the two of us, I’m definitely the rougher looking one—which may be why her voice cracks slightly as she asks, “What aboutyou? What the hell has happened to you this past week?”
I look to the door, half-expecting Kestrel to burst through it, to tell me this is a cruel joke before hauling Briar back down to the dungeons. But the princess doesn’t appear.
