I lock the door behind me and stand with my back to it, staring at the room and trying not to be impressed. I’m not ready to let go of my anger. Andcertainlynot over a bedroom. But I’ve never seen anything like it, not even in Amkrieg or Barivum.
To my left is a giant bed with a tall post at each corner, supporting a canopy of thin, draped, sheer gold fabric that seems to blur the bed without darkening it. One entire wall of the room is dedicated to cabinets and shelves of books, pottery, and decorative glass. The gold rug on the floor is so thick I could comfortably sleep there. There’s a writing desk with its legs carved to look like scales, and a set of low plush chairs in a corner that look meant for curling up with a glass of wine. The table in front of the chairs holds a misshapen rock, bigger than both my fists put together, that’sglowing.
And directly across from me, at the far wall, the day’s dying light spills through a long open gash in the ceiling. The floor there slopes away to grates that must take care of any rainfall. The row ofvibrant potted plants lined up where the light falls makes my heart skip a beat.
A fountain set amongst the plants spills a waterfall, like the one in my room in the village.
Somebody left a pile of folded clothes, a glass of wine, and a tray of cut fruit and savory pastry on the writing desk. After the journey here, I’m hungry, and my body still aches. I wash, lotion my aching thighs, and dress in fresh trousers and a tunic. Then, I proceed to consume so much fruit that my stomach feels tight.
A knock sounds at my door.
I go stiff in the chair I’m curled up in, berry raised to my lips, as my eyes snap to the doorway.
“Cai?” Roiven’s voice is muffled.
It’s dark outside now, and the only light in the room is the glow of the rock. It’s bright enough that I can see where everything is.
I would love to be childish enough to pretend I’m not in. But even though my petty heart would enjoy the mental image of Roiven searching all over the mountain for me, I remember his words this morning when he explained the bond. Assuming it wasn’t a lie, he can tell where I am.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I call.
“I know,” Roiven says. “But it can’t wait. We have to talk about it.”
I huff in annoyance, uncurl myself from the chair, and walk toward the door. Leaning against the frame with the door still shut, I make my voice as cheerfully sarcastic as I can.
“Huh, you think we should’ve talked this morning?”
“I couldn’t risk you refusing. And then, I thought better to tell you here, where you could find privacy, not on Savasaeirn’s back where we'd be stuck together.”
I rip the door open and glare at him. Roiven stands just outside the room. His whole body is tense, and there’s a wary look in his eyes.
“You call that private? There was acrowd.”
“I know,” he sighs, and steps forward. I hadn’t invited him in,but the Witch King squeezes past me, and I have to step back to avoid his body brushing mine. Inside, he looks around the room as if seeing it for the first time. His eyes linger on the worn clothes I draped over the back of the desk chair.
“What do you want?”
“It was cruel of me to let you find out in front of the whole coven. But when Aria said Torain was doubting me, well, I realized your anger and shock would prove that this hadn't beenyourplan. That you were not controlling my every move through the enchantment.”
I’m not surprised he was using my pain. I’m surprised to hear him admit it so openly. The door rattles as I slam it shut and turn to face him.
“How romantic.”
“This isn’t about romance.” Roiven takes a seat in one of the corner chairs, resting his elbows on his knees. He has no right to make himself so comfortable here, even if he is the king of this place.
“Thank the fucking gods for that. I demand a sailboat and provisions so I can leave.”
“I can’t give you that.”
“You said I wasn’t a prisoner. So I guessthat’sa lie, too.”
“You aren’t a prisoner. All we have here are rowboats. It's that or swimming. Sit down, Cai.”
“Fuck you.” I glare at him and don’t move from beside the door.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth, but there are more important things thaneitherof our happiness.”
A flood of emotion barrels into me, like somebody’s tapped a cask and emptied it over my head. Roiven’s mind is a mess. Guilt, and frustration, and a heavy doom in his gut that no matter what he does, this place might not survive the next day.
