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Some of the books were quite heavy. I hadn’t decided yet whether I would be lobbing the stack at Draven if he opened the door. Besides, I was growing tired and questioned how good my aim would be at that time of the night.
Things had been simpler when we had been on the road. I would change in my tent, then fall asleep. Sometimes I would listen to Draven’s soft snoring. It hadn’t kept me awake. If anything, it had lulled me back to sleep. It was... comforting to know he was there. Near enough to hear me if I called out.
Then the others had joined us. First Vesper. Then Lancelet. Then Odelna. And everything had changed after that.
An hour or so later, I had nearly fallen asleep in my chair.
Beside me a book about the creation of the subterranean palace, the seat of the Court of Umbral Flames, lay open and discarded. I had read enough of the first few chapters to confirm that the kingdom of Sorega was not entirely underground though its ruling court was. Cities lay just over our head on the surface of the continent. Specifically, the capital city Noctasia could be found directly above the volcanic royal palace, an extension of the royal court in many ways. It seemed that the Siabra transported themselves to the surface with relative ease by accessing something called stitching. With stitching, one could go from the city to the palace and back again easily in the span of just a few minutes.
But when the door opened, I was on my feet in an instant, thoughts of sleep quickly forgotten.
“How was your visit with your mommy?” I asked sweetly, placing my hands on my hips.
Draven seemed startled by the question. He seemed much more fatigued than when he had left that afternoon. The dark stubble that usually lined his jaw was thicker and darker than usual. He already had a hand up to rub wearily at his forehead.
For a moment, I thought of what Crescent had told me–that Draven’s brother was dead, that Draven had been banished and absent from court for twenty long years.
My entire lifespan, in fact.
Then my pity vanished. This man had slain his own brother. He had been banished for good reason–for treason.
“Why did you kill your own brother? Were you planning on telling me that anytime soon? And why would you bring me back to a court you had beenbanishedfrom? It doesn’t exactly seem like a safe place for either of us.”
Draven had gone very still. “Crescent was here, I take it? Did you like him? He’s a useful fellow. His sister is deadly with those blades. But he can be something of a chatterbox.”
“Do I like him?” I seethed. “I certainly like that he’s a chatterbox. But he’s just another jailer, isn’t he? They wouldn’t let me leave these rooms.”
“On my orders,” Draven said quietly. “For your own safety.”
“So you keep saying. And now you’re back here, to do what exactly?”
“To sleep. I’m tired. Aren’t you?”
He moved towards the side of the bed and started unfastening his jacket. My heart pounded. He was really going to do this. He really planned to sleep in the same room, no, the same bed as me.
His presence was undeniable. Perhaps that was why it had been so easy to accept that he was a prince. He commanded attention, even now, while simply undressing. Waves of black hair framed his face, drawing my gaze to his strong nose and chiseled cheekbones.
Evidently he had changed to meet his mother.
He was clothed in regal darkness, in clothes more luxurious than any I had seen him wear before. Trousers of black fabric, expertly tailored to his muscular legs, with just a hint of a subtle sheen. His shirt was a midnight-black silk and overtop he wore a jacket tailored to perfection, gleaming with silver threads embroidered in the pattern of vines. Ornate delicately engraved silver buttons traced its front while a high collar touched the golden bronze skin of his neck.
As I watched, he finished unbuttoning the jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair, then set his hands to the silver belt at his waist.
“Stop,” I protested, my cheeks heating. “What the hell are you doing?”
He paused and looked at me quizzically as if I were the one acting strange. “Getting ready for bed. I’ve already eaten. Have you?”
“You only think to ask me that now?” I muttered.
His lips formed a small smile. “I wasn’t trying to starve you. I sent Hawl to prepare some food. Did you encounter...”
He paused as if suddenly realizing that perhaps he should have warned me there would be a bear... creature... in the kitchen.
“Hawl was delightful,” I conceded, refusing to admit they had given me a bit of a fright at first.
“So you have eaten? Good. Are you tired?”
“What the hell is this, Draven?” I exploded. “We’re simply changing our bedtime routine? From setting up camp and crawling into my tent, now you want me to crawl into bed with you?”
