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Did I tell myself I’ve just made a hot mess of Rowan and Arryn’s room? Yeah, that’s hilarious.
I’ve just made a fucking mess of everything.
Chapter28
Alindra
JUST SMASHING
Myeyes snap open.
I didn’t think it would be possible for me to fall asleep, not after last night’s enormous disaster, but now the window on the far side of the room glows with a thin, blue light. I did fall asleep, then. And the glowsoft orbs came back while I slept.
A sharp rap on the door cuts through the air. My fists tighten around the blanket smothering my chest. There’s only one person in the Lands Below who could be knocking on that door.
I blink at the ceiling until my eyes stop burning with tears that I absolutely refuse to let fall. I did enough of that last night, stupid, useless sobbing with my fist pressed against my lips and my head buried under a pillow that still smells vaguely like Phaedron.
There’s another sharp rap on the door. Then silence.
I inhale as quietly as possible. What exactly is Phaedron going to do if I don’t answer him? If I just stay here in bed, as silent as death, and let him knock until his knuckles bleed? At what point would he break down and just open the door?
There’s a soft cough from the other room, followed by another knock.
“Alindra?” Phaedron’s voice sounds almost hesitant, like I’m some terrible beast he’s afraid to wake, and I’m suddenly frustrated with his stupid knocking and my stupid, childish game of ignoring him.
“I’m here,” I growl as I kick back the covers.
I cross the little room, glaring at the closed door with every deliberate stomp. Arryn offered me warmer clothes; heavy leather pants lined with fleece, thick socks, and a sweater that’s far too large for either of us. It’s only after I’ve pulled the thick red wool sweater over my head that I realize it also smells like Phaedron, and for a heartbeat I stare at my feet in their cozy wool socks and wish the floor would open up beneath me and pull me down into whatever it is that’s beyond the Lands Below.
There’s another knock on the door. Irritation flares in my chest. I ball up Arryn’s cute little linen dress, the one I wore to bed last night, drop it onto the floor, and then kick it under the bed with such vehemence that my thigh cramps.
“The orbs are lit,” Phaedron says, his voice muffled as it travels through the gaps in the wooden door. “We really should go.”
I make a face at the closed door and imagine myself ignoring him. Or what if I climbed out the window instead?
And went where exactly? It’s not like I could vanish into the crowd. So far, Phaedron and Arryn seem to be the only living creatures in the entire Lands Below. I huff out a sigh, pull my shoulders back, and yank the door open.
Phaedron stands there, his cloak thrown back over his shoulders and his hand raised as if he were about to knock again. His eyes widen. For a moment, he looks almost surprised to see me. As if he’d forgotten who spent the night in his bed. Alone.
I push past him, refusing to waste any more time than necessary staring at his face. And then I blink. The door to his brother’s bedroom is open, the floor I’m standing on is so clean I can almost see my reflection in the floorboards, and the air smells faintly of lemon. A mop and an empty bucket lean against the wall next to the fireplace. I blink again.
Apparently, Phaedron would rather spend the night mopping the floor than hopping into bed with me.
My chest clenches like a fist. I shake my head as I cross the room, trying not to slip as my thick wool socks kiss the immaculate floorboards. No. I can’t think about what happened last night, and I sure as all the nine hells don’t want to talk about it. I just want to get this over with and get as far from this place as possible.
Phaedron’s footsteps follow me across the cabin’s disturbingly clean floor, but I manage to ignore him as I pull on my boots and then drape the massive cloak Arryn offered me over my head and shoulders. The fabric is heavy and damp, and it smells like it hasn’t seen the sun in, well, forever.
Phaedron steps around me, giving me a wide berth, as if I’m a feral animal that may bite. He smells like his illusions, soft and subtle, and I glance at him as he passes. He’s clearly not trying to hide the lines exhaustion etched across his face or the massive sword strapped to his waist. So what did he make with his magic?
Oh. I yank my gaze away as my cheeks burn; I feel almost like I’ve touched a hot stove. Phaedron fastens his cloak across his chest. It’s almost, but not quite, enough to hide the illusion arm he’s created.
He pulls open the door, and a blast of cold air slaps me across the face. I step outside. When I breathe, the air feels like a knife sliding down my throat. Phaedron’s feet crunch the ice beside me, and the door slams behind us. His cloaks swirls across the dirty ice as I stare at the scuffed toes of my borrowed boots.
“This way,” Phaedron says, with all the emotional range of a particularly expressive piece of coal.
I nod, then follow the dark swirl of his cloak, not quite daring to lift my eyes. Why is he wearing an illusion again? Last night he only covered his scars, he didn’t create a whole new stupid arm.
Last night. Well, last night was just smashing, now wasn’t it? I press my thick leather mittens against my burning cheeks as my boots crunch through ice as brittle as broken glass. What in the nine hells happened last night? I suck in a breath so cold it scratches the inside of my throat.
