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“I won’t leave this bed, butonlyif you bring a few of my things to me.” Eirah tilted her head to the side and smiled.
“The Morozko doll?” he purred.
Eirah couldn’t deny how she liked the way his deep voice sounded, the way his words rolled off his tongue. She had to rememberwhoshe was talking to andwhyshe was in this bed in the first place. “No, he’s waiting his turn,” she drawled. “I just need a few pieces of wood and the carving tools to work on a music box.”
Morozko knelt on the floor, shuffling through the items before finally handing her several tools and a small stack of wood. “I’d like to hear it when you’re finished.”
She was ready to retort with a snarky reply, thinking he meant to tease her with the sound of maidens he pleasured. But the expression on his face looked serious, melancholic, as though he were deep in thought. Perhaps he was still reminiscing about his past, what he’d told her about his mother.
“Then I shall play it for you,” she said softly.
His brows rose in surprise, and he gave her a brief nod before turning on his heel. He glanced over his shoulder at her one more time before leaving her alone.
Eirah lifted her tools, her strength slowly returning. She peered down at her robe and sighed, remembering how the king had seen her bare, how he’d carried her in his arms while she was dead to the world, how the blankets had dropped from her chest for mere moments, exposing her breasts.
No man had ever seen her in that manner—heat crawled up her neck and into her cheeks. “It’s fine, Eirah. The king has seen hundreds of maidens without clothing. No, no,thousands. Your body wouldn’t be special to him. It wouldn’t be to anyone.” Was itthousands?
She pinched the bridge of her nose to stop imagining how he would peel off a maiden’s dress or lower the robe fromher ownshoulders. But there was something she couldn’t stop mulling over—when he’d brushed her skin with his, an electric sensation hummed inside her. That had certainly not happened before from any of his touches.
Shaking off the thought, Eirah leaned forward and stared out the glass door as flakes of snow fell. A strange sensation had tugged at her with Adair, not as potent as with the king, but something different... Too many odd feelings that she didn’t have answers for.
There wasn’t any sign of the snowy white owl—she was tempted to disobey Morozko and go out on the balcony, but she didn’t want to collapse again. If she fainted outside, she would most certainly freeze to death and, in this instance, the king might not find her in time.
Eirah took a few sips of tea from her glass before starting on the music box. She spent most of the day cutting the rectangular pieces to create the outer shell, then worked on carving designs into the wood.
The door opened to Ulva carrying a supper plate displaying steaming meat and vegetables, along with a glass of water. “This is my fault,” she said. “I should’ve stayed to help you bathe.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I’m stubborn.” Eirah set down the chisel, her expression growing serious as a horrid thought crossed her mind. “The king didn’t hurt you, did he?”
Ulva shook her head, then straightened after she placed the plate and glass on the bedside table. “No, His Majesty is nothing of that nature to us. Raising his voice if we were to do wrong, yes, but he would never lay a hand on his servants unless they betrayed him.”
Eirah let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing. “That eases me a bit.”
“I’m sewing a few dresses today. Is there anything specific you would like?”
Ulva’s words surprised her—she’d never had anyone make something specifically for her besides her parents or Saren. Then a dark thought crossed her mind, not knowing if the garments would be ready before she was to be sacrificed. But she forced a smile. “Something different. Maybe not even a dress but trousers and a tunic. I’ll make you a gift in return.”
“A bargain I won’t deny.” Ulva paused as she started to turn. “And if you need a bath or anything else, let Kusav know and someone will fetch me.”
“I promise.” Eirah didn’t want anything for the rest of the day, only to work on the music box. Perhaps to still go outside, but she would save that for another time.
As soon as Ulva left the room, Eirah lifted a piece of wood and carved deep grooves within its mahogany surface. Her focused pace continued for a long while until her fingers tingled. She flexed them, believing it was from her nonstop movements, yet when the prickling spread up her arms, a new sensation palpitated beneath her flesh. Along her hands, white feathers sprouted and unfurled.
Eirah’s eyes widened, and she screamed so loud she thought the glass inside the room would shatter. The door flew open and Kusav burst in, staring at her in horror as his gaze fell to her hands, his mouth wide open.
“Get Morozko!” she shouted.
The room spun and the world around her seemed to get larger as she became smaller. When she looked down at herself, no longer were her legs human but thin and deep orange with curving talons along the edges of her feet. Her arms were now wings, ivory feathers cloaking her entire body, and as she tried to speak, a loud hoot echoed off the walls.
Her heart pounded, her body shaking. Eirah didn’t know what todo—she was abird.
A moment later, Morozko bolted into the room, his hair in disarray.
“Where is she?” he seethed, his gaze brushing past her.
Kusav came in and stopped beside the king. “I think that’s her,” he said, pointing in Eirah’s direction.
She went to speak, but only hoots filled the room.Why is this happening? she thought.
