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“Livia!” A heavy pound on the thick, oakwood door rattled the rafters overhead. “You’re needed and yet are nowhere to be found. I noticed your absence first, in case you ever wondered who cares for you most.”
It must be terribly late in the morning if Jonas was the one sent to fetch me this time.
A strategic move. Well played. That vulgar tongue of his was equal parts charm and weapon. He knew how to use it well.
“Woman troubles,” I shouted, muffling my voice into the pillow. “Best to move along.”
“I’m up for the challenge.” A pause, then a few clicks came from the door latch, and the door swung open.
I shot up in the bed, frowning. “Jonas Eriksson, I warned you about picking my locks.”
Jonas flashed the roguish grin that won too many hearts in his court. “I do recall you once said I was forbidden to do so, and I simply forgot to care.”
Bastard.
Jonas filled the doorway with his height and width. Busy as a child, and even more active as a man, his body was made for battle while still being lithe enough to slip between shadows like a thief in the night.
His agility around locks and small spaces would be unsettling if he was sinister. The truth was, Jonas and his twin, Sander, couldn’t help their proclivity to sneak. They’d been raised by a rather cunning king and queen who’d both thieved themselves a time or two.
Jonas strode to the tall window and tossed open the heavy curtains. I blinked when the sunlight burst through the room, and a gust of wind followed, carrying with it more imagined blood, more hints of the sea.
Jonas spun around, facing me, his hands on his hips as he smirked.
“Pleased with yourself?” I scratched my scalp through wild tangles of my dark braids.
“Immensely.” As the eldest of the twin Eastern princes, Jonas’s bright, verdant eyes and devious grin beneath the dark scruff on his jaw kept more than one lady slipping into his rooms. If they knew the goodness of his loyal heart under all his schemes and wit, they’d never leave him in peace. “Get up. The coaches are about to leave.”
Gods, how late did I sleep?
“Hurry, Liv. I mean this with love, it’s going to take some time for you to get presentable. You look like a goat swallowed you, then tossed you out with its shit.”
“Have I told you that you’renotcharming?”
“Many times. You’re still wrong.” Jonas dropped one knee on the foot of my bed. “You seem distressed, Livie. Tell me what’s troubling you.”
“Nothing is troubling me except you.”
“You wound me.” He pressed a hand to the emblem of a sword encircled in shadows stitched to his dark tunic. His court’s seal. Jonas’s face sobered a bit as he studied me until I wanted to sink under my quilt from his scrutiny. “No teasing—are you all right?”
My shoulders slumped. A downside to having friendships built from infancy was knowing every tell and every flinch of each other’s faces. We knew the other’s weaknesses and strengths. Their fears.
I fell back against my pillows, eyes locked on the rafters. “I had the dream again last night.”
“Well, dammit.” Jonas tossed aside the three knives sheathed to his belt, kicked off his boots, and crept over my bed. “Why didn’t you say so?”
The idiot positioned himself against the wooden headboard, crossed his ankles, and opened an arm, beckoning me to his side.
I didn’t move.
Jonas raised his brows and flicked his fingers. “I’ll wait all damn morning, Livie. You know I will.”
“You’re wonderfully wretched.”
Jonas chuckled. I gave in and nestled against his side. He kept his arm tight and protective around my shoulders.
For a moment, we were silent. Then, his deep voice rumbled from his chest against my cheek. “I know the festival brings a lot of memories, I know those sea sods left with a lot of threats toward your daj and family, but they’re never coming back. And if they did, it’d be my honor to cut old Bloodsinger’s head clean off.”
I smiled and hugged his waist. Only my friends knew about the dreams I’d had since the end of the war. When the serpent in my dream came for me, when its jaw unhinged and swallowed me whole; somehow even in my dream, I knew it was sent by Erik Bloodsinger.
