Page 142 of To Touch A Silent Fury
At those last words, he tensed. Shame and anger floated to the top of his mind. I sensed his rejection before it fell as the regret steamed through him.
He hung his head with a groan. “Tani. I—”
I pulled my hand back. “It was a stupid suggestion.”
Langnathin pushed his hand through his hair, his other hand clenched at his side. “No. It’s just a lot to think about.”
I leaned forwards and scooped up Hanindred, placing him back onto my lap as I swept him into the fabric. “I get it,” I said, tying the straps. “You are a Crown Prince. I am a Broken thing.”
He growled, looking up at the sky. “That’s not how I see it.”
We stared at each other again, then. The Sightlander and the Touchlander. The Dragon Prince and the Moontouched Girl. The Prince and the Fugitive. We would always be on two different sides of this world, and I was a fool to think otherwise.
He did not speak again; he did not offer himself. He only looked guilty as anything.
That was it. The final throw of the dice, and I had lost. “I’d like to go back to my rooms now.”
37
Tani
The next two days passed in much the same way the last two had. Foxlin turned every visitor away, and I did not stop him. I had made my attempt, and it was shot to nothing. The Wragg didn’t even ask how I was, he just heard the words ‘recovering from an illness’ and turned on his heel, muttering something about seeing me on the day.
Theollan, though, I did feel guilty about, but I would find a way to uphold my end of our bargain in time. He had helped me by implying Prince Eamallan’s interest, and I would help him, too, giving him my theory on why a woman could even be Moontouched, even if it was the last letter I wrote before the end.
The only exception Foxlin made was with Plonius. Yesterday, the tailor was permitted, under his watch, to leave a large box in the room. With the limited time, he had only modified an existing dress to my measurements, but if the colour of his undereyes and the previous dress was anything to go by, it would be a wonder to behold.
I never opened the box.
There was little point when I could imagine what I would find. Another win forThe History of the Five, no doubt. Mephluan was described with reference to her snow-white skin, and she was always painted in snow. Purity in every step. Untouched, untainted. If I opened the lid, I would see a white gown, the colour symbolising my virtue. The Muse recast before a husband claimed me and dirtied me with his image.
It could burn in that box for all I cared.
Therefore, given Foxlin’s rigidity in keeping nearly everyone away, I was surprised when I heard a knock at the door.
I blinked out of my nap, with some faint memory of hearing a low conversation as I dozed. Tonight, I ran. I didn’t know when I would next have the benefit of sleeping on such a comfortable bed with a rather dedicated guard posted out front who barely seemed to sleep himself.
“Vorska?”
It was Foxlin, calling through the closed door.
“Yes?” I replied, sitting up.
“Can I come in?” he said. “It’s just me.”
“Sure,” I said, and yet I looked at my bedside table nonetheless, where the dragontooth lay waiting. I tucked it into the back of my skirt and pulled my top over it as he opened the door.
I still found Foxlin intimidating, mostly due to his size, though he was somewhat slimmer than the Wragg. But there was a kindness in his amber eyes I warmed to, and I had realised one of his tattoos was of a stretching dragon, which charmed me.
Today, he looked uncomfortable, but more than that, concerned. “Sorry for disturbing you.”
“What’s the matter?”
Foxlin released a breath. “Septillis has been arrested by the City Watch.”
His words struck me like a blow. “What?” I said in reflex, as it sank in. “Why?”
“He was caught attempting to post a letter with content deemed to be treasonous,” Foxlin said, his words low and measured.
