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As promised, the prince visited the next morning, his smile stretching into his cheeks. “You did it.”
Indeed, the servant who’d delivered my breakfast had gone to inform them of the clothing piled upon the golden trunk. I’d remained where I was, lying over the crumpled bed in the same clothing I’d arrived in, as she’d left and returned with a friend to collect it all.
Now, still seated upon the bed, I was tearing at the mound of hard bread that’d come with breakfast, forcing little pieces down with sips of water. I’d almost thought it a dream, a trick of a misery-addled mind until the items were carefully carried away—the reason for the gold-embroidered clothing a ghost haunting my every thought.
“Opal?” the prince asked, unmoving from where he stood beside the open door.
“I wish to be alone,” I finally said. Not meeting his eyes, I let my own slide away from the finery he wore.
“Mother says you are permitted to leave your chambers for a walk in the gardens…”
“I said I would like to be left alone.” The bread started to crumble in the firm grip of my fingers.
The prince cleared his throat, then stepped out. “As you wish.”
The door closed and locked, and it did not reopen until that evening as I was leaving the bathing chamber in a white satin robe I’d found hanging over a hook beside the shelves of bath salts.
“Good, you’re clean. Herma was begi
I didn’t bother informing her that whatever stench I left in my unwashed state would not be detected by their inferior sense of smell, my fingers twining my hair into a loose braid that fell over my shoulder.
The queen finally met my eyes when I said nothing, her own widened with expectation.
Still, I remained silent, and she huffed, turning to the door and ushering someone in.
Two men carried three knapsacks each. All were promptly upturned onto the red carpet before the now empty golden trunk. With swift bows, they then hustled past the queen with their sacks and left.
Sabrina gestured to the new mounds of clothing. “We will give you until the day after the morrow.”
A shocked laugh slipped out. “You’re giving me time limits now?” She folded her hands in front of her, straightened her posture, and I shook my head. “What happens if I fail to complete them on time?”
“Certain allowances might be taken away.” With a coy smile, she spun for the door, her brown and gold gown dragging the unswept breadcrumbs with it. “Good night.”
I stared at the closed door, then looked at the mountains of expectation on the floor, and decided to finish my chicken dumplings instead. They lacked the flavor, the love of the earth, from back home, but they weren’t terrible, and after not eating well for a time, they probably tasted better than they truly did.
Afterward, I unlocked the door with a touch of my hand on the wood, smiling to myself as I left the tray outside, then closed it. A silly victory that did nothing but show a little defiance, and hopefully a hint to Herma, the servant, to keep out of my rooms.
As I’d feared, the moment my fingers touched the thread of the finery I’d laid out before me upon the large single bed, nothing happened.
Nothing save for the stitching that was already there growing stronger. Unyielding.
While I was certain most humans would appreciate such a thing, I knew the king and queen would not and glowered at the clothing as though it had been created to dupe me.
“Need some assistance?”
My eyes shot to the window. How he’d arrived, so silent and undetectable, was beyond me. “How are you getting past the guards?”
“Warping,” he said as though I were daft, and perhaps I was for not having considered that already. In my defense, I had defiant un-gold stitching to contend with, and the blood king had mercifully flitted to the back of my mind.
Until now.
He climbed through as though he had every right to and crossed the room, hands tucked within the pockets of his long leather coat as he surveyed the space. “A pretty cell for a pretty faerie princess.”
“It’s not a cell,” I lied. We were both well aware that it was.
Humoring me, it seemed, he didn’t bite back, just dipped his fingers into the bowl of vegetable soup upon the nightstand. He put them into his mouth, and nausea assaulted me when his lips curled around them, and my blood rebelled, heating. Then he winced, hacking with his tongue out. “Stars above, that is fucking foul.”
“So is your presence,” I muttered, clearing my throat. “Kindly show yourself out.”
“If this is about your father, I fear I ca
I tilted my head back to blink at him. “Your duty is to murder hundreds, no thousands of our kind?”
“If necessary, yes. Humans, too.” He tapped a finger against the unlit lantern, and it sprung to life, flame bouncing. “I do not discriminate, sunshine.”
I scoffed. A red haze caused a film over my eyes as I clenched my fingers around the scarf. “You’re disgusting.”
He took a seat on the bed, uncaring that I wished him ill, and folded his long legs beneath him, the wood groaning under our weight. “Give me your hand then, and let’s get on with it.”
I pulled my hands into my lap, and he watched the action with a maddening half-smile and tilt of his head, strands of blond hair creeping down to brush his forehead. “Why come here?”
His brows climbed, and he stared at me as if I should know why he’d shown up yet again. “Swan, any place you go, wherever you find yourself, I fear I am bound to follow.” From the sharp edge of those words and the ice lightening his eyes, I couldn’t convey whether he was pleased about what he’d stated.
My throat thickened, ire strangled by fear. “I would much prefer you didn’t.”
“You only say that because I killed your father and a great many other creatures.” Waving his hand, he collected a robe and stole my own. “Be furious later. I’ve things to do after this.”
Stu
Gold unspooled, flowing like a dotted river along the edging of the robe. My teeth knocked together, but I couldn’t help it. Knowledge was power. “Dare I ask what things?”
“You may ask, but that doesn’t guarantee an answer.”
I sighed as he tossed the robe to the side and spread a large coat between us, our hands still joined. “Maiming, torturing, fearmongering…”
“Politics bore me,” he said. “If you must know, I’ve a meeting with my uncle and two of my…” His nose twitched as he paused. “I suppose the easiest thing to call them is friends.”
I wasn’t sure if he was attempting humor or if he truly hadn’t been aware that these so-called friends of his were his friends until now.
“Your uncle?” I said while he swapped the finished coat out for a gown. I’d heard next to nothing of the fearsome general who’d supposedly been the late ruler of Vordane’s brother and best friend. Only that he was cruel, merciless, and hundreds of years old but still without a mate.