Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ellesandra

Although I have no interest in the chamber that is to be my prison, my feet move of their own volition.

Despite the directions he gave, it's his scent that guides me down the desolate hall. The atmosphere remains unchanged. A somber aura hangs in the chilled air and sees the hairs rise on the back of my neck.

Judging by the contentment that cocoons around my soul when I reach the third door down the hall on my right, it's likely he's lying in wait for me. I chastise myself when my steps falter as my hand comes to rest atop the wrought iron door handle.

I expected that I wouldn't be given a semblance of space or privacy, but last night proved that I have little control where the damnable bond is concerned. The wall of stone in my mind slowly crumbled with each moment his warmth surrounded me.

The thread that tethers us doesn't keep record of each malicious thing he's done, nor does it tally the losses that have come by his hand, all in the name of love. Its sole purpose is to see two poisonous hearts joined by any means necessary.

Steeling my spine, I push the door open. A sigh of relief falls from my lips when I see it's blessedly empty. Though not as large as the chamber with the books and jewels, the gauzy curtains floating in the night breeze and slate gray walls give the bedroom an intimate feel. Rugs similar to those in the tent I awoke in on the battlefield are spread over the dark oak floors. I tilt my head and squint at the grooves and crevices lacing the wood that's reminiscent of the bittercrass tree.

The four-poster featherbed that sits along the wall on the right side of the room is swathed in onyx silk sheets. A shiver creeps up my spine with the thought of having his muscular frame lying beside me each night. Two tables that match the flooring sit on either side of the bed. A small candelabra and various bits of parchments are strewn about on the table to the right.

A tapestry depicting the Risian crest with luminous silver and gold whorls stretches the length of the wall above the bed. Narrowing my eyes, I take a step closer to make out the elegant script. A dry swallow works down my throat and I turn my gaze away when I realize that it's the same language as the runes that are carved into the Fount of Starlight.

To the left, a black velvet settee sits beside a generously sized hearth. An array of books with colorful spines are in a neat row on the silver shelf that protrudes over the hearth. Before I'm able to tamper down the urge, I take another step forward and allow the door to close behind me. Reaching the hearth, I lean forward to inspect the script on the spines. Each of them are tales I'm familiar with, having read them cover to cover multiple times when I was a girl.

I can't make sense of why these books are here, in the King of Risian's personal chambers. The grand library in the room he showed me was for my enjoyment, but the man I remember found far more interest in fighting and battle than burying his nose in a book. At least I'll have reading materials during my self-imposed isolation.

Two doors lie on each side of the hearth, one of which leads to a bathing chamber with a basin, toilet, and grand clawfoot tub. My bones ache with the thought of sinking into scorching water with a large glass of wine.

I whirl around to face the chamber door when quick, light steps echo down the hall. While there's no pestering tug upon the thread in my chest, not knowing who the steps belong to puts me at unease. I'm sure it's not Sianna. She's far heavier footed.

Before I have the chance to consider further possibilities of who the steps belong to, the oak chamber door opens to reveal a small woman. I'm not a woman of large stature, by any means, but she would only reach my shoulder. Judging by her copper hair that is woven into three, thick braids atop her head, and her plain royal blue day gown, I know she's a part of the staff. Her hazel eyes widen in surprise when she notices me.

The corner of her lips tug downwards as she scans me over.

"You must dress," she commands, bending down to collect a set of brown boots I didn't notice sitting beside the hearth. "And smile, girl. The war is over."

The sheer lack of regard this woman has is appalling. Even if she does look to be in her ninth decade of life, is she unaware of who I am? I'm a queen, not a girl. She ignores the withering glare I cast in her direction and hums a light tune. It's almost as if I don't exist at all as she collects a pile of men's tunics and breeches in the far left corner of the room and places them into a wicker basket beside the door.

Swiping a red strand from her face, she turns to me. "Well, you most certainly can't wear that." I blink once before she breezes past me and out the chamber door.

I must admit, given the small amount of time she was gone, the dress is impressive. The woman takes a step back once satisfied there's not a single crease to be found in the onyx gown that clings to my body like a second skin.

The silk material is the shade of midnight, but shimmers beneath the moonlight that streams into the chamber. In the way the gown cinches at my waist, I'd almost believe it's a gown from my closet in Minalis. Though they can't be seen beneath the skirts that touch the floor, the delicate, eggshell colored shoes that adorn my feet are akin to my favorite slippers. The satin material is soft and welcoming to my heels.

Twisting to look at the woman over my shoulder, she gives me a slight smile that crinkles at the corner of her eyes.

"Very good," she says, nodding more to herself than me.

I swallow back the thousand questions that bubble on my tongue, the most pressing being where the Risian King is. While I knew we were to dine together, I didn't expect it would require a ball gown and rouge on my cheeks. I frown with the thought. I'd much prefer to stay in the chamber in my sleeping gown and read.

I turn my head when three sharp knocks sound. Without sparing me another glance, the woman strides to the chamber door and hauls it open. Goldie steps inside a moment later. He wears a blank, bored expression, not even a flicker of surprise crossing his face when he lifts his head.

"The King awaits." I wonder if he's somehow immune to a woman's beauty, as his eyes never stray from my face as he speaks.

"If you could kindly tell His Grace I'd prefer to take my meal anywhere he's not present," I reply, angling my head and giving him my most coy smile.

He blinks once. Not even the faintest trace of amusement or frustration are to be found behind his eyes. It's almost as if I haven't spoken at all in the way he stares at me. With a long, audible sigh, I shuffle past Goldie's muscular frame that takes up much of the narrow doorway.

I despise the thought of sharing a meal with the King of Risian, but I know he'll simply have the dinner moved to the chambers if I refuse him. At least this way, I'll have ample opportunities to become more familiar with the palace.

I roll my eyes when I find that several Risian soldiers stand guard on either side of the door. It's truly maddening that Felix believes I require this much protection. I have no power to run at this moment. They avert their eyes and shift on the balls of their feet when I challenge their gazes.

A strange energy rattles in my chest as Goldie falls into step beside me. The days that have passed quieted the maelstrom of emotions I felt, but anger lies dormant beneath the surface. While the bond has been less bothersome, this energy is a feeling I've come to know well.

It begins as a whisper in my soul, the hum of a familiar tune I've long forgotten. The energy is a gentle nudge, willing me to continue on the path of least resistance. With each exhale of breath and steady stride it grows stronger, becoming a resonating thrum that courses through my veins.

I sigh with the realization that we're close when a sharp tug ricochets through my chest. Gathering the skirts of my gown in one hand to descend the staircase, the thrum in my ears becomes louder and I scowl. Goldie takes a sharp left and leads us down a corridor adjacent to the staircase. I scold myself for missing it when I first entered the Selenic Palace.

An array of voices and laughter float through the air from down the corridor. I quickly discern this is where the people who call this palace home gather. Despite the fact that their opinions are of little consequence to me, I ensure the lids of the trunks within my mind are firmly shut. I won't let them draw emotion from me, no matter the mocking sneers or scowls they may throw in my direction.

Confusion swallows up my unease when Goldie strides past the towering doors of what I assume is the Great Hall. Judging by the greeting we received upon our arrival, I surmised I'd be forced to sit through a meal with the lords and ladies of Felix's court.

Though the bond swells with excitement, I angle my head in Goldie's direction and quirk my brow when he stops before a rather plain looking door at the end of the corridor. At least if we were surrounded by the people of the court, the high and mighty king's focus wouldn't be upon me. Instead, it looks like we're to dine in private. Lovely.

Clasping my hands behind my back, I inhale deeply through my nose and turn to face him. Though I know the being inside me would rather be flayed alive than see harm come to its mate, I will my anger to the surface. "May I borrow your sword for a moment?"

With an amused snort, Goldie steps to the side. I lift my chin and straighten my spine as he pushes the door open. It takes all my focus to prevent my steps from faltering as surprise overcomes me. This is no ordinary chamber where meals are served.

An oak desk and chair in a dark shade of cherry sit against the wall, a simple quill and inkpot sitting atop it. Crumpled pieces of parchment lay in a wastebasket beside the desk. A rather large book lies open in the chair, though numbers take the place of letters on the pages. In many ways, this chamber is akin to my study in the Amber Palace.

A steady hum rings in my ears as my eyes come to rest on the small round table in the center of my room. An eggshell linen with lace trimming the edges covers the wood and hangs over the edge. The flickering flames of a single candelabra in the center of the table are the sole source of light for the chamber.

Warmth rushes through my chest and cocoons around the bond when I lift my eyes to the man who sits in the chair to the left. He's forgone all finery, his velvet doublet and silver crown noticeably absent. Soft hues of gold and orange reflect off the simple black tunic that exposes the muscles of his arms and the breadth of his chest. Emotion I don't recognize sweeps through me the longer I stare at him.

The clearest pools of blue are steady on me when I meet his gaze. Without removing his eyes from me, my mirror soul stands in one fluid motion and takes a long stride forward. There's something nefarious in the way his eyes darken when he peruses my form.

I swallow thickly, as I realize the look is a promise of what could be my undoing should I not keep my wits about me.

Ellesandra,

Do you remember the night I named you my brightest star? Your eyes shone the most beautiful shade of honey. I didn't tell you this at that time, but it was then that I knew I loved you. My soul was enthralled by you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you, but it was that night we danced beneath the stars by the lake that I realized.

You used to go on and on about the love in your favorite stories and how it wasn't real. But that's not the truth. It's real. I realized that night what it's like for someone to carry your breath outside of your body.

You are my brightest star. Now and always.