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“Not really.”
He raised a brow. “Then your only other option...” He stopped, stepping into the alcove and opening a set of doors. “Is the library.”
I stared into the dimly lit space. The room was slightly better than my bedchamber, even though there was a heavy, haunting quality to it—a sadness that clung to the walls and coated the tomes lining the shelves, just as the fine layer of dust did, seeping into the floors and the air. My gaze fell on the candlelit portraits at the back of the chamber. Was it Ash who lit the candles each day, replacing them when they burned to the quick? Did he come in here often, so that his memory of his father remained fresh? So that he had a face to place with his mother’s name?
I stepped inside, surrounded by the scent of books and frankincense, and welcomed by the sadness. I faced Ector. “Am I supposed to stay in here until I’m allowed to return to roaming aimlessly?”
“Pretty much. I doubt she will have any interest in a library,” he replied, and I went completely and utterly still. “Someone will let you know when you’re free to resume roaming around aimlessly.”
My heart was suddenly pounding. She. “Who…who is the guest?”
“A friend of Nyktos’,” he replied flatly, and it didn’t sound like this was someone Ector was fond of. Then again, I didn’t think Ector was too fond of me. His luminous eyes met mine. “Remember what you agreed to.”
“I remember.”
Ector eyed me as he slowly closed the library doors. The moment I heard them snick into place, I went to them and waited.
Who was she?
Better yet, who was she that Ash didn’t want me around? A sour sensation pooled in my stomach, one that couldn’t be jealousy. More like…indignant anger. For someone who claimed to think of how I tasted at the most inappropriate times, he sure hadn’t shown any interest over the last three days. Nor had he shown any interest in receiving pleasure, something males generally always wanted. Could it be because he’d been finding pleasure elsewhere despite the impression I’d gotten regarding his experience?
The last thing I needed was competition when it wasn’t like I could win his heart with my sparkling personality. My options were limited.
And not only that, I was to be his Consort. If he were going to be interested in others, he could at least do it elsewhere.
Cracking open the door, I peered out into the hall, half surprised not to find Ector standing there. I didn’t waste a second. I quietly closed the doors behind me and crept out into the hall. I only made it to the area of Ash’s office when I heard voices.
“You’ve been particularly difficult to obtain an audience with lately.” A velvet-wrapped voice filled the hall.
“Have I been?” came Ash’s response.
I cursed under my breath, quickly scanning the hall. I darted into an alcove and pressed my back against the cool stone wall.
“You have,” the woman replied. “I was beginning to take it personally.”
“Nothing personal, Veses. I’ve just been busy.”
Veses? The Primal of Rites and Prosperity? My throat dried as I leaned toward the thin slit of a gap between the thick pillar and the wall. She was heavily celebrated during the weeks leading up to the Rite, in rituals only known to the Chosen. Many prayed to her for good luck but doing so came with risks. Veses could be vengeful, dishing out misfortune to those she found unworthy of blessings.
“Too busy for me?” Veses asked, a sharpness edging into the softness of her tone. Was she one of the Primals that pushed Ash?
“Even you,” Ash said.
“Now, I’m a little offended.” That sharpness had become a blade, just as they entered my narrow line of sight. “I’m sure it’s unintentional.”
Ash moved into view first. He was unarmed, as he had been in the throne room. But considering what he was capable of, I didn’t know if that meant he didn’t view this Veses as a threat or not. “You should know by now that I never cause unintended offense.”
The Primal laughed, and I gritted my teeth at the honey-coated sound. A second later, she stepped into the narrow opening. If Ash was midnight personified, she was sunlight manifested.
Golden-blonde hair cascaded over slim shoulders in thick, perfectly coiled ringlets, reaching an impossibly narrow waist cinched by a gown a shade or so paler than her hair. The gossamer fabric clung to a lithe body. I glanced down at the breeches I wore, thinking that one of my legs was probably the size of both of hers.
I looked back up as she turned to Ash, and I wished I’d continued staring at my leg as none of the many paintings and renderings I’d seen of her had done her justice. Her creamy complexion was smooth and pink, clear of freckles. The line of her nose and the shape of her brow were delicate, as if she had been constructed of the same handblown glass as the figurines that had lined my stepfather’s office. And her mouth was full, a perfect pout the shade of apricots. She was incredibly beautiful.
