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My lips curved upward further. “These last few months have been kinder to you than they have to me. You’ve got curves my body can’t even imagine. Thank you, though.”
Diora’s eyes grew a bit sad. “We’ll get you eating better.”
It wasn’t just the food, but I couldn’t really tell her that.
I was just… tired.
Exhausted.
Done.
I forced myself to look at my new haircut in the mirror, and slid my fingers over the soft, short strands.
Maybe I could change too.
Stars, that would be incredible.
A bang on the door to Lavee and Jesh’s room had all of our heads turning toward the noise.
My throat closed, and I found myself taking a few steps backward, accidentally bumping into Jesh in the process. He was gigantic, and didn’t so much as budge.
It knocked me off balance, though. He caught me by the biceps before I could crash to the ground, and the feel of his hands on my arm brought back flashes of horrible emotions and memories that made me shudder.
The door crashed open, and a moment later, there was a massive, furious king in the doorway. Moonlight flickered off different parts of his skin in small pinpoints, but I was panicking too much to be struck by the beauty of his magic.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Espen snarled, flying across the room.
Jesh released me immediately—it wasn’t as if he’d been holding on to me for any reason other than to keep my face from meeting the bathroom’s tile, or the remains of my hair piled on the ground.
My face collided with Espen’s pec, his arms locking around me as he snarled at the group. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“Watch your tone.” Namir’s voice was no longer as playful as it had been earlier. In fact, it might’ve even been threatening. “Akari wanted a haircut. She nearly fell, and Jesh caught her.”
“Is that true?” The king’s hand cupped my face as he stared down at me, fury written in every line of his skin.
“Oh, shit,” Diora hissed. Her hand landed on the countertop, her knees buckling.
Namir’s arm snaked around her waist and held her up, as he snarled at his brother, “The moon, Espen.”
The Night King’s eyes were still locked on mine, though, his expression almost savage.
“They’ve been nothing but kind to me—unlike you, who threw me in a dungeon. Get your hands off me, and do your job.” I reached up to push his hand off my face, starting to feel my strength waning.
I was feeling the moon beginning to sink, I imagined.
Espen’s hand caught my wrist, his eyes blazing with flames. “When the fuck were you chained?”
The room went silent, and my throat closed up.
“My mate is carrying a child, brother. Raise the fucking moon before my friends kill you so I can do it myself,” Namir snarled, more savagely than before.
Curses slid from the Night King’s lips as his eyes closed, his hand still gripping my wrist while his arm held my waist.
The room remained silent for one heartbeat, and then two, and then three.
A minute passed, and then another, and another.
At least five minutes had gone by before I felt my strength returning, and another five went by before Espen finally opened his eyes.
