Page 210 of Golden Queen
When he did not come to the door, I decided to go and find him. We would have a nice fucking chat about what I expected of him.
I laid Sangui down in her box, sitting her on top of the white velvet cloth that covered the armor.
As my palm left the grip, so too did the anger that had been coursing through my body. All the rage that had me contemplating punching Io in the face—cutting him with the blade—flowed out like water, leaving me empty and ashamed.
I was horrified with myself. I was still angry at him, obviously. He had been a jerk. Butdear gods, the blade had been fueling some violent, nearly homicidal rage, and I had not even known it.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and took a few calming breaths. What had I said to him? Something about walking bare-assed through the Reach...and cutting his cock off?
He'd said his fair share of bullshit as well. I recalled the way he called mehis, like I was property. Iwashis. There was no question about it, just as he was mine, but in the context of his jealousy, it hardly gave me the same thrill to hear it.
I sat in the shadowy chamber for a long time, tired from the physical exhaustion of training and the mental exhaustion of the argument.
I knew the rage from the blade was the thing that exhausted me the most. It was the price I would need to pay in exchange for wielding that kind of power. Magic always had a cost, they said.
I left the room to go and find him, stopping in his chamber to shrug on one of his soft dressing gowns.
I searched almost the entire palace. He was nowhere to be found. I walked through the large, echoeyhalls feeling the absence of people for the first time. The rooms were quiet, still, and lonely.
I returned to our bedchamber and showered away the sweat and blood. I rifled through his dresser to find a comfortable shirt. I didn't want to put my clothes back on.
Coming up with something lacy from the bottom of the drawer did not help my mood. I picked up the soft, black chemise with one finger to inspect it, trying to imagine what woman had left it in his chambers. It sent my mind racing into angry, jealous territory that I would not even start to acknowledge the irony of.
In a pique, I threw the undergarment into the fire and pulled a soft, white tunic over my head.
I sat in front of the fire letting my curls dry and waited. Still, he did not come.
I found a cloak in his wardrobe after spending far too much time thumbing through the richly detailed, dark uniforms that must have been some kind of official Darkwatch attire. Many of them featured his sigil of the five-pointed stars on the lapel.
The whole wardrobe smelled like him; warm, fresh, and fiery.
I was thoroughly penitent by then, just wishing he would come back so we could make up. I was more and more convinced that he was too angry with me to do so.
I donned the cloak and walked out onto the mountain terrace, watching the dragons soar overhead. The breeze was wicked, bracing, and exhilarating. I welcomed the cold seeping into me. It seemed to refresh me and soothe my aching muscles.
The sky looked infinite with its dense canopy of stars. What seemed like an endless number of them could be seen streaking across the heavens at any one moment.
It was still the same sky I’d been looking at my entire life. It was like my vision was sharpened so that I could see what had been there all along.
The auroras were their usual marvel of natural magic, pulsing and dancing in time with that mysterious music I couldn’t hear. I desperately wished I could. I somehow knew it would be the most beautiful sound in the world.
"Sera."
I revised that statement as I heard the actual most beautiful sound in the world.
I turned and he was framed in the doorway.
He had taken the time to change somewhere, I realized. He wore the black tunic and breeches he’d worn the very first time I saw him in the castle in Albiyn. They were plain, but finely made with faint silver stitching. They fit his large, well-made body perfectly.
His collar was pushed up around his neck as though he had been in the wind. I wondered briefly if he’d been flying.
He put his hands in his pockets and strolled out onto the terrace, coming to stand beside me. He rolled his shoulders as though trying to relieve some tension.
When he looked down at me, he laughed, shaking his head. The deep sound reverberated through his chest. It seemed to catch some part of mine and sent it humming as well.
I followed his gaze to my feet. They were blanched white with the cold. I hadn't noticed them for several minutes, and I supposed it was because they were entirely numb.
Of course he reached down to pick me up. His big arms tossed me against his chest as though I weighed nothing.
