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“I’m fine.” I massage my temples. “I just want to be left alone.”
“You’re in pain?” He steps closer. “The bond—”
“Just get out! I just need to sleep, that’s all.” I rub my pounding skull. Thankfully this time Castor doesn’t argue, leaving me to flop against my bed while he locks the door behind him.
Of course sleep does little to help the pain. I toss and turn for about fifteen minutes before I rip off Lux’s cloak and shove myself into a loose nightgown. After lighting a few more candles, I sit with a huff at my sewing desk.
If I can’t sleep and my stupid door is still locked, I might as well do something to take my mind off this headache.
I start by picking up the bodice I was working on. I was halfway through embroidering a sunflower when Castor came to escort me to the party. But once again, I leave the third petal unfinished and throw the bodice onto my desk, my head falling into my hands.
This is all so confusing, and this awful headache isn’t helping one bit. I can’t get Castor’s face out of my mind. The way he looked when I asked why Lux had to trick me. Like he wanted to say more but he couldn’t.
An awful thought creeps in that perhaps I’m just a pawn in a much larger game. That maybe the princes would’ve sedated me even if I hadn’t broken my ankle.
I shake my head, grabbing a roll of heavy velvet. The love I felt when I picked up Lux’s shirt was real, or at least the obsession was anyway.
Then again, if that was real, then so was the other feeling…
Huffing, I unroll the velvet, turning my desk into a sea of midnight blue. I don’t realise I’m making Lux a new cloak until I’m stitching white fur onto the trim, but I don’t stop.
Besides, if he’s going to be forcing me to wear his cloak more often, then I’d rather wear something more appropriate for the cooler weather. Once his arousal from my gift passed, all I could think about was how thin his cloak was.
I don’t have an explanation for why I spend the next few hours embroidering pretty blue waves. Or why every time I think of giving this to him, a little smile tugs at my lips.
It’s only when the lock twists in my door that I drop the cloak and shove all my threads back into my sewing tin.
Syvlia steps inside, startling when she notices me by my desk. “Oh, good morning, Princess Eden. How did you sleep?”
Sleep? My eyes widen. It’s then that I notice the sunlight spilling in through my window and how my candles have burnt down to their holders.
Oh well. This isn’t the first time I’ve stayed up all night sewing.
“I slept well,” I lie, standing up slowly.
My headache is still awful and at some point in the night it spread down to the upper part of my back. I should probably see a healer, but if it would be the same one who had me sedated, I think I’d be better off never seeing him again.
After helping me get ready, Sylvia follows me down the hallway while I hold my new creation. I wasn’t sure if I should actually give Lux his cloak today. It’s one thing to spend the night making a cloak for your captor. It’s another thing entirely to skip up to him the next morning with his new cloak wrapped up with a bow.
But then I thought about it… I’ve tried begging Lux to let me go home. I’ve tried running away. I’ve even tried giving him what he wanted, even if deep down I also loved how both princes played with me last night. But I haven’t tried reasoning with him.
There must be something that he wants more than me. I’m not made of gold. I’m just a girl. But my father is a king. Lux will know that if I offer him a high price to let me go, my father will be able to pay it.
And I can start off this nice conversation by gifting him a beautiful new cloak.
It’s foolproof. I hope.
“The prince was by the fountain this morning.” Sylvia gestures towards the garden. “He’s probably still there.”
“Thank you,” I tell her before I head outside.
But the second I veer around a tall hedge, my stomach drops.
Lux is seated on the stone rim of the fountain as he conjures impressive jets that spiral around the stone horses. If we were strangers, I’d probably gasp at the show. But we’re not strangers, and the woman giggling beside him is no stranger either.
It’s the blonde whore from last night’s party, and she’s leaning towards him, clearly trying to give him a good view of her bust.
With a furious snarl, I stumble back. But after composing myself, I barely make it around the hedge before I hit a hard, warm wall.
