Page 8 of A Filling of Fables and Firelight

A throat cleared behind him. “What if I wanted that open?”

He startled at the feminine voice, smooth as silk and laced with just enough sarcasm to pique his interest, but recovered quickly, turning slowly on his heel to face the unexpected occupant of the room. The fire in the hearth cast a warm light over the room, chasing the shadows of nightfall to the edges. A woman sat, tucked into the corner of a divan, with a pile of fabric on her lap and a needle in one hand. She looked up, meeting his gaze just long enough for his brain to trip over the smooth reply that was about to come out of his mouth. Her eyes were a deep brown that would put the decadent chocolates he had just sampled to shame, and they flashed with an unspoken challenge. All too soon, her attention dropped back to her lap.

“Did you?” He asked, unable to find a more intelligent response.

She pushed the needle through the emerald fabric and the light glinted off the gold thread as she pulled it taut. She kept her eyes focused on her work as she answered, “Well, I did have it open before you came barging in here. I’m going to let you put the pieces together there.”

Kamaran blinked, both surprised and refreshed by the fact that she didn’t even pretend to care that she was sassing the most powerful man in the Adhavi Empire. The voices in the hall he had been avoiding grew louder as they approached the door, then passed by and faded away into silence. He waited a few moments, then cracked the door just far enough to confirm the coast was clear.

“Leave it open when you go.”

He hesitated, fingers still wrapped around the handle. He could leave now. He should leave now—the last thing he needed was to be caught alone in a room with a young woman while he was supposed to be courting the pre-approved misses of the Queen’s Contest—but there was something about her that made him want to know more. He turned, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall beside the door. “Who are you?”

She looked up, long enough this time for him to fully appreciate the defined lines of her face. Dark, expressive brows were raised in a silent question over her captivating eyes, and the corners of her full, rose-colored lips were turned down. “I thought you were leaving?”

“I was just opening the door like you asked.” Kamaran glanced meaningfully at the sliver of light that filtered in from the bright lamps beyond.

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘open.’”

“I’m pretty sure the only definition that matters around here is mine.”

“Oh? Are you rewriting the Adhavian dictionary? You must be a renowned linguist.” She went back to her embroidery.

He propped a foot against the wall behind him and his head tilted to the side as he studied her. She held herself with the confidence that accompanied money and power, and even from across the room he could tell that her dress was finer and better made than any of the gowns he had seen on the contestants that evening. He had never seen her before, which meant she must be there for the contest, only…

“You weren’t at dinner.”

“I could have been.”

Kamaran slowly shook his head. “No, I would have noticed.”

“Really?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Are you a master of guest lists as well as being a renowned linguist?”

“You’re here for the Queen’s Contest, right?”

She let out a long sigh. “So it seems.”

Kamaran mentally ran through the list of all the women he had been introduced to that evening. They all shared such similar physical characteristics that after a few, it was hard to remember which pair of brown eyes and head of dark hair went with each name. Laila, Fatima, Nour, Aliyah, Yasmin, Inara…but was there supposed to be one more? He pressed his lips together in a frown. Zamar had given him the list of contestants, but like nearly every document that fell into his hands, he hadn’t read it.

Why bother when the letters would get so jumbled that he wouldn’t understand a word of it anyway?

He shoved the morose thoughts away, choosing to focus instead on the much more interesting puzzle that was in front of him. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“And we won’t be.” The woman craned her neck as she took a long look around the room. “There’s no one here to make the introductions. In fact, the two of us being here alone makes any introduction highly improper.”

He pushed away from the wall, testing the waters by moving a step or two toward her. “Was that your plan?”

It’s certainly one way to gain the advantage. By skipping the dinner and welcome festivities, she’s kept herself out of her rivals’ lines of sight, and while they had to share my focus, she has my undivided attention.

Her face twisted with distaste as her eyes flashed. She wielded her needle like a sword. “Absolutely not. If you recall, you’re the one who trapped himself in here.”

“So you admit that I’m trapped.” He moved forward another step.

“Your mind obviously is. It’s the only explanation as to why your common sense hasn’t been able to make its way out yet.” She waved the needle threateningly. “Along with your sense of self-preservation, it would seem.”

Her words were punctuated by a low growl, and Kamaran stumbled back a step as a furry head lifted out of a pile of pillows on the other end of the divan. A sand-colored creature with ears too large for its head and a triangular snout stared him down, lips curled back to reveal sharp, pointed teeth.

He shook his head, certain that he was imagining things. “Is that…a fox?”