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Like I’m beginning to suspect at least one of her parents did.
In spite of the words I hurled at her earlier, it makes a twisted kind of sense, the loyalty she feels toward Madame. But I saw her waver, too.
She is loyal to Zaina, also. To Mel.
Maybe even to me.
I just wonder which allegiance will win out, in the end.
I don’t consciously register falling asleep, but I must, because I’m startled awake by a knock at the door.
My eyes fly open, my mind scrambling to catch up. I take in the setting sun through the windows, wondering how I could have slept so soundly and for so long.
What’s even more disorienting are the limbs wrapped around me, and the wild array of shiny black hair plastered against my chest. Her face is pressed against my shoulder, and her arm pulled tight around my ribcage.
For a second, I’m back in that room above the bar—back to when waking up with her in my arms was more common than waking alone. She always slept like this, clinging to me like she was afraid I would disappear in the night.
Maybe she was right to worry.
In some ways, it feels like we both disappeared.
Another knock sounds and her eyes fly open. I quickly disentangle myself and leap from the bed, shaking off the exhaustion clouding my mind.
Aika looks wild with her hair sticking out around her head at all angles and a small throwing star in her hand that she pulled from only hell knows where.
“Your Highnesses?” a hesitant voice asks through the door. It’s the head manservant, Geoffrey.
I throw on a robe while Aika tucks the weapon away. I’ve barely answered the door before a handful of servants are bustling into the room with a tray of food and steaming cups of tea. Belatedly, Aika smooths out her hair and pulls the covers up around her chest.
Lawrence waits at the edge of the room, carefully averting his gaze away from her. Once I’m seated at the small dining table, I motion for him to come over. He hands me several missives, covered in my father’s messy scrawl—business that apparently cannot wait until my joyoushoneymoonis over.
The look Lawrence gives me, though, expresses something more urgent than my father’s hastily written notes.
“What is it?” I ask.
He steps closer, leaning down to speak, his eyes carefully scanning to see if anyone is paying attention.
“Your mother spoke with me.” His voice is low, serious.
“Oh?”
A quick dip of his head.
“She wanted to know if you and your bride were in your rooms the entire night, as there was another fire.” Accusation drips from his tone, and I rub my temples in frustration, biting back a curse.
That answers the question of what Zaina was doing last night.
But Lawrence doesn’t know that. All he knows is that I left through the back doors of the palace with Zaina and returned with an unconscious Aika in my arms.
“It wasn’t her,” I respond quietly.
Though, it’s a small consolation. It might not have been my wife’s doing, but it was still done on my watch. Zaina made it clear that she was willing to do whatever needed to be done to keep Aika safe.
And I let her go for the same reason.
His eyes narrow in question, but he doesn’t say anything else as Aika approaches the small table.
“Thank you for letting me know,” I say.
