Page 8 of The King is Dead
I tried to push the yearning thoughts of him away. But I wasn’t fast enough to stop the memory of his expression painted in rage, and those gorgeous green eyes pinched in grief.
Thoughts of Melek made a fearful pangzingthrough my chest. And then I was flooded in the memory, as if I was living it all over again.
He was shaking and unhappy but listening. “I need think about this.”
I almost tripped as I reached my seat at the small table near the railing. My toe caught on the silk when I leaned down to catch my skirts, readying to sit. I pitched forward, grabbing for the edge of the table to steady myself—wincing when the glassware and cutlery rattled and clinked.
Thank God nothing fell off.
Cheeks a little warm, I settled myself into the chair, allowing Berne, my primary butler, to scoot it in for me.
“Can I bring you chocolate, Ma’am?” he asked quietly. “Or would you prefer fruit for your sweet this morning?”
“Chocolate.” I had eaten several small, hurried meals since we arrived home. But after months in that fucking Neph camp I deserved a treat, dammit. “Bring enough for two. Istral will want some as well… Where is my sister?” I asked worriedly.
“Harris is bringing her. She’ll be right along, I’m sure.” Berne nodded once, certain as always that no one in the Palace would deign to ignore my orders.
He was a pompous man—far more uptight and rigid than any of the Court. But he lived his life to serve me. And by all accounts he had been quite flustered for these months when I was gone, completely at a loss for what to do with himself.
His primary emotion at my return appeared to be relief.
Berne bowed, the wisps of hair that he brushed across his pate fluttering in the light breeze that still made it through the screens. Then he turned on his heel and marched back into my apartment. I knew he’d hurry to the nearby working kitchen to get hot chocolate for me and Istral, which would give me a moment to sit in the quiet.
I made myself turn to look through the gaps in the screens and so discovered that close-up like this I could still see much of the garden below. The carpet of green lawn two floors below was broken by flowerbeds and shrubberies. Taller grasses and a few trees lined the banks of the river that flowed north just beyond the lawn. It was where I’d learned to swim when I was young.
A breeze blew, rustling the trees shading the garden and both sides of the river. I turned instinctively when a shadow passed over the sun—just a flock of birds—but was distracted by a pinch at my waist. I had forgotten how uncomfortable corsets were.
Dear God. I amQueen. I should have the authority to ban these torture devices,I thought as I yanked at the bodice and attempted to give my squashed internal organs more room. But I wouldn’t deny that I had always enjoyed the looks in men’s eyes when they thought I wasn’t watching.
I wondered what Melek had thought seeing me in rich, feminine clothes—and then I remembered I’d been draped in my cloak. He’d seen nothing. Nor had he tried to look.
Our bond was new, but I was already accustomed to the hunger in his eyes when he looked at me. The quick scan when he saw me even after just moments apart.
But there had been none of that.
My guts twisted and tangled. What if he—
“Lani!”
The happy shriek made my heart leap with joy. I shoved out of the chair, whirling to meet my sister, Istral. She sprinted towards me, her arms up and wide like a child asking to be lifted though she was as tall as me.
We met in the middle, both of us laughing as she threw herself into my chest and hugged me so tightly that she shook.
“You’re home! You’re safe! You’re home!”
I held her just as firmly with my chin on her shoulder and my eyes squeezed shut against the tears that wanted to come. But I wouldn’t cry because it always upset her, even when I told her the tears were happy.
So, I swallowed them back and held her for as long as she could bear it.
When she loosened her grip and started to pull back, I let her go. Smiling into her bright eyes I stroked her hair, petting her because I needed the comfort of being close and she was my heart’s joy.
“You look beautiful, Izzy!”
And she did. Her hair—as golden as mine was black, and in thin, spiral curls, though mine was straight as an arrow—had been cut to brush the tops of her shoulders. Her eyes were bright, sparkling with her smile.
If our faces hadn’t been almost identical, I might have questioned our shared lineage. But there was no mistaking that we were sisters. Except, God had painted us different colors. I took after our father, while Istral was as beautiful and gentle as our late mother.
“Tell me everything!” I said, taking her hand and drawing her back towards the table. “Everything you can remember,” I added so she wouldn’t feel pressured.
