Page 32 of His Dark Delights
A surge of unease rolled through me. The force of it was almost enough to send me to my knees, collapsingon the floor once again. My empty stomach heaved, and shock reeled through my throbbing head.
Rhydan and I locked eyes. Concern washed away the hopefulness in his gaze. Hope for what I couldn’t say, and I didn’t care. But he opened the door, nodding for me to enter. “I’ll send word to the kitchen for you. Someone will attend to you soon.”
More than anything, I needed to be alone. I whisked past the knight into the pleasant warmth of the chambers. “Thank you,” I said over my shoulder, unable to meet his stare a second longer.
The door shut with a soft click and my eyes fluttered shut to block the well of tears swelling to the surface. I stumbled into the door as the world shifted beneath my feet. I slid down the cool wood to the floor and hugged my knees to my chest.
Two weeks. For two weeks I’d agonized over the tangled knots in my chest, fighting to cleave their possession of my heart. The gods would be so cruel to snap the threads back into place the moment I breathed on my own again. Like a cruel ribbon of fate weaving through my ribs.
Beams of sunlight streaming through the glass windows glinted on the strange, glittering stone walls. Tapestries and paintings decorated the walls that lacked a massive window draped with heavy velvet curtains. Taking in the room helped me collect myself, to self-soothe the panic clawing up through my chest and scratching the back of my throat. Plush rugs kissed my feet like clouds as I explored.
The luxury of the spacious chamber sat bittersweet on my tongue, like trying to eat gold and finding that it wasn’t nourishing after all.
A four-poster bed sat between two towering windows. Flames danced in the fireplace across the room and a gentle warmth cascaded through the air. Shelves built into one corner boasted an impressive collection of books alongside a plush armchair of blue stained velour leather. A gold painted wardrobe in the adjacent corner cast shadows on a narrow door leading to a private bathing chamber.
The fire crackled as a log split, and the sound startled me away from the books. When I turned around, a tapestry on the opposite wall fluttered as if moved by a breeze. Curiosity tugged me across the room, not to the intricate lines woven into the picture of a knight hunting a unicorn, but by the subtle whistling behind the fabric.
I pushed the tapestry aside, and my jaw dropped open.
A door hidden in the wall?
I grasped the handle and twisted, but it remained in place. Locked from the other side. Breathing faster, I glanced at the door and over the wall, calculating the corridor outside.
The king’s room.
Not only did Soren expect me to stay in the palace, sleeping in the room beside mine, but he likely had access to slip through the door as he pleased.
My emotions betrayed me, volleying between fury, displeasure, and a traitorous hum of wanton excitement. Each breath sawed through me as my heart juggled blinding rage and a quivering anticipation that threatened to suffocate me.
When would I see Soren again? Would he sneak through that door and crawl into the bed when nightfell? And why didn’t I hate the thought as much as I should have? What would my life become here? How were my animals without me? When would I get the chance to return home—to find solace and safety once again?
I didn’t foresee a way out.
The main door swinging open knocked a yelp from me. A servant with a large tray bustled in. She set it on the low table in front of the hearth and bowed out of the room before I managed a sputtered “thank you”.
Uncertain and unmoored in a treacherous land, but moved by hunger, I sidestepped the lavish twin chairs by the fire and sank onto the rug. Swirling herbs and spices enticed me, and I dug into the most lavish meal of my life. Warmed by the meal and exhausted, I curled into myself on the rug and succumbed to the ache in my head.
I dozed for hours until a voice clucked in my ears, and urgent hands rattled my shoulders. My breath hitched, but wheezed out when I noticed the voice was firm but matronly.
“Come on, girl, get up. You’ve slept nearly the entire day!” She had a crooning voice, her tongue curling the edges of her words in an accent I didn’t recognize.
“I’m sorry.” I blinked rapidly, shoving up from the ground. The sleep cleared from my eyes, and an older woman with graying blonde curls slipping free from her cap stared down at me.
“It’s half-past six in the afternoon, dearie,” she chided. Her scrutinizing, pale eyes were curious yet kind as she dragged me off the floor.
“Oh. Am—Am I needed?”
She appraised me with one sweep of her eyes beforeclucking her tongue like a disapproving hen. “Dear, the king has summoned you to dine with him. But you can’t go looking like this, ye ken?”
“Dinner with the king?” I gasped, the grogginess ripping from my bones. Her words stunned me past the point of fighting when she maneuvered me to the bathroom.
“Aye. His Majesty demands your presence, but you look as if they dragged you off the streets.” She stuck me near the edge of the clawfoot tub before snatching a washcloth from a cupboard. “You look pretty enough, but let’s see if we can make you shine.”
“I’m sorry, Miss—”
“I’m Mrs. Gibbons, dearie. Now let’s get you out of those dirty clothes.” She moved in an expert flurry, tugging off my simple dress and underthings.
“Mrs. Gibbons, I can wash and dress myself. Please—”
