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I toy with the idea of following it to see where it goes. Reluctantly, however, I decide to save that for another day. We’re pressing our luck enough as it is. And I have a feeling that whatever is behind that wall will require more time than I have at the moment.
Chapter Fifteen
If I expected to wake up feeling rested or refreshed, I am, once again, disappointed. If anything, I feel worse than I did yesterday, my head pounding and my stomach roiling.
Worst of all, I feel weak.
I gather just enough strength to plop the chalyx unceremoniously onto the floor. If he did give her to me as a tool to use against me later, I don’t want to let on that it has been successful.
I’ve yet to see him be physically violent, but I’m not willing to risk Khijhana being hurt.
She’s still glaring at me grumpily when the king stomps his way into my room, as usual.
At least he doesn’t seem any moodier than he was yesterday. Last night’s excursion remains a secret, then.
Sigrid’s now-familiar knock sounds in time with Khijhana’s squeak of surprise as Einar scoops her into his lap. I barely resist the urge to narrow my eyes at him.
The tiniest arrogant tilt of his lips has me thinking he imagines he’s stirred up some jealousy within me, so I lay back down and resolutely ignore him.
I realize that my behavior isn’t mature or productive, and that I should be working to make things better between us, especially given my revelations about him last night. But it’s too early, and he’s too smug, sitting there with my cub and a cocky grin on his face, so I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
He chuckles under his breath as I pretend not to care. And I don’t care. Not really. I don’t have time to dwell on it for long before Sigrid sweeps into the room, filling the open space with the sheer volume of her presence.
Judging by the huff beneath her veil as her head moves from facing the bed to the king’s chair, she isn’t terribly happy with either of us this morning.
I reluctantly pull myself from the covers to join my husband for breakfast, wrapping a robe around my sheer nightdress. It’s warm and alleviates the cold seeping into the soles of my feet from the frozen floor.
I tuck my icy legs under me as I take my seat at the table where Sigrid has laid out our breakfast. Einar watches me, his eyebrow quirking, but says nothing.
The older woman clucks her tongue lovingly at Khijha, and she springs from Einar’s grasp, running to a saucer that Sigrid sets on the floor. She is oblivious to the rest of the room now, focused only on what appears to be milk and honey.
I can’t imagine that is good for her, but I’m too tired to voice that thought aloud.
Besides, given the sickly-sweet smell wafting from what I can only hope is Einar’s breakfast this morning, I’m beginning to think this is how the woman feeds everyone.
Except for me.I notice with no small amount of gratitude the flat, seeded bread, two medium-cooked eggs, and a steaming cup of tea in front of me. I should at least be able to stomach this, if I don’t watch my husband eat his own ridiculous breakfast.
Once Sigrid leaves, the only sounds in the room are Einar’s obnoxious chewing and Khijha’s gentle lapping of the sweet milk.
My head is pounding, and each crunch or slosh of milk grates my already well-worn nerves. I guzzle down the glass of water before me and fill it again, drinking the entirety of it in one go. Nothing seems to help the dryness of my mouth or the ache in my bones that never goes away.
I stretch and start in on my breakfast when Einar finally decides to speak up.
“You didn’t come down for dinner last night,” he says, rather than asks, around mouthfuls of sweet cinnamon-filled rolls.
“I had my meal sent up.”
Einar sighs. “Yes, I noticed.” He shovels in another bite. “I suppose I was wondering why.”
I take a moment to decide how much truth to give him and settle for the easiest answer.
“Well, I’ve never been much on forcing others to watch me eat while their own meals grow cold. I figured it was simpler this way.” Who knows? Perhaps he’ll finally explain the masks.
“And yet, you have no problem making the servants walk three flights of stairs to bring you your meal?”
Touché.
I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him before settling on another bite of my meal instead of responding.
