“Do you know what the fluffy animals are called that live in the trees near the capital?” I asked.
“What?”
“The ones that hang onto the limbs,” I explained. “They’re fluffy and cute, but are supposedly vicious.”
“Dear gods, do I even want to know why you’re thinking of the tree bears?”
“Tree bear?” My brow puckered. “That’s the name?”
“Poppy,” he sighed.
I rolled my eyes. “You remind me of a tree bear.”
“I would tell you that I’m offended, but that requires speaking, which means neither of us would be sleeping.”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
Lying there stiffly, I debated snatching the meat knife and stabbing him in the arm with it. That seemed like a bit of an overreaction, but it was one I’d enjoy, at least in the moment.
I didn’t know exactly when or how long it took, but somewhere between staring at the knife and doing everything not to rock, my eyelids grew heavy, and I did eventually sleep.
And I did not dream.
Chapter 8
The next time I saw Casteel, I was going to shove the stupid knife so far into his chest, he would have to dig it out.
Glaring at the door, guarded from the outside, I swallowed a shout of frustration and anger. With the exception of Delano arriving with lunch, I’d been locked up in this room all day, alone and going absolutely stir-crazy.
Casteel was gone when I woke, and that had been a welcomed discovery since waking up in his arms was not something I needed to experience again. The memories of such were already hard enough to forget. But hours later, as the snow fell steadily and the wind howled outside the narrow window, whatever gratitude I’d felt had shriveled up and died.
Delano had stood guard outside nearly the entire day. I knew because the last time I had pounded on the door, he’d answered through the heavy wood. He’d replied in virtually the same way each time I demanded to be let out.
“No one wishes to chase you through a snowstorm.”
“I’d rather not be gutted by the Prince, so no.”
“The Prince will return soon.”
My favorite was when I’d said that I just wanted some fresh air. “Nothing personal, but there is literally no way I would trust you enough to crack this door open to allow even an inch of fresh air to enter your chamber.”
How was that not personal?
I started toward the door, planning to bang my fist off it until the whole keep came running—
The door suddenly swung open as Delano rushed inside, hand on the hilt of his sword. He drew up short, eyes bright as he checked me over and scanned the room.
“Are you okay?” he demanded. Delano had the kind of face that often tricked you. Except for the nearly constant crease between his fair brows, there was a boyishness to his features. As if he would be grinning the second he thought you weren’t looking. But in that moment, with the hard set to his jaw and the steeliness in his eyes I’d never seen before, he looked as if he were a breath away from lopping off someone’s head.
“Other than being angry about being trapped in here? Yes.”
His eyes narrowed. “You weren’t yelling?”
My brows lifted. “Not externally. Did you hear me yelling?”
Delano’s head tilted. “What do you mean by…not externally?”
“I was probably screaming internally for being locked in here.”
“So, you weren’t screaming?”
“No. Not out loud.” I crossed my arms.
His already light skin seemed paler. “I thought… I thought I heard you calling my name.” The crease between his brows deepened. “Screaming for help.” Letting go of his sword, he ran a hand through his nearly white-blond hair. “It must’ve been the wind.”
“Or your guilty conscience.”
“Probably the wind.”
I started toward him.
There it was, a flash of a grin. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Interrupt what? I’m stuck in this room. What could—?” I shrieked as the door closed and locked. “Now I am yelling!”
“It’s the wind,” he yelled back through the door.
I stomped my foot once and then twice instead of giving in to the urge to really scream.
Throwing myself onto the bed, I pictured all the different places I could stab Delano, but then I felt a little bad about that. It wasn’t his fault. It was Casteel’s. So, I pictured putting as many holes in him as I could until I started to doze. I didn’t fight it. Being unconscious was far better than rage-pacing. I had no idea how long I slept, whether it was minutes or hours, but when I opened my bleary eyes, a patchwork quilt had been draped over my legs, and I saw that I wasn’t alone. Across from the bed sat Kieran, in the same chair as the night before, practically in the same position—one booted foot resting on a bent knee.
“Good afternoon,” he said as I blinked slowly, looking between him and the quilt. “The quilt wasn’t me. That was Cas.”
He’d been in here? While I slept? That son of a—
“Though I’m glad you finally woke up. I was going to give you another five minutes before I risked life and limb to wake you. Unlike Cas, watching you sleep is not something I find all that entertaining.”
Casteel watched me sleep? Wait. How long had Kieran been sitting there? “What are you doing in here?” I rasped.
“Other than wondering exactly what choices I made in my life that led me to this exact moment?” Kieran asked.
My eyes narrowed. “Yes. Other than that.”
“Since I figured Delano would like a break and wondered if you might be hungry. I’m hoping that you are because I would like to eat, too.”
My stomach immediately decided that yes, it would like some food, and grumbled loudly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Feeling my cheeks flush, I shoved the blanket off and stood. “Am I actually allowed to leave this room?”
“Of course.”
My brows lifted. “You say that as if I’m asking a stupid question. I’ve been locked in here all day!”
“If you could be trusted not to run, then perhaps you wouldn’t be locked in here.”
“Maybe if you weren’t holding me captive, I wouldn’t have to try and escape!”
“Good point.”
I blinked.
“But it is what it is.” Kieran arched a brow. “Do you wish to leave the room and eat, or would you rather sit here and stew? Your choice.”
My choice? I almost laughed. “I need to use the bathing chamber first.”
“Take your time. I’ll just sit here and stare at…nothing now.”
Rolling my eyes, I started to turn, and then my stupid mouth opened. “Where is His Highness?”
“Highness? Man, I bet Cas loves being referred to as that.” Kieran chuckled. “You miss him already?”
“Oh, yes. That’s exactly why I’m asking.”
He grinned. “He’s been speaking with Alastir and several of the others in town. If he wasn’t the Prince of Atlantia, with all his princely duties, I’m sure he’d be here…” His pale eyes glimmered. “Watching you sleep.”
“Thank the gods that he has something to pass his time with then,” I muttered.
Ignoring that, I hurried into the bathing chamber. I took care of my needs and then grabbed the brush from the small vanity. My hair was a mess from sleeping on it, and there was a good chance that I tore half of it out while trying to get the knots out. Once I finished, I placed the brush back and then looked in the small mirror, tilting my head to the side.
I wasn’t looking at the scars, though I thought they seemed less noticeable somehow—could be the lighting. Rather it was my eyes that I stared at. They were green, passed down from my father to Ian and me. My mother’s were brown, and I thought of how the Atlantians had golden or hazel-colored eyes. Had my mother’s been a plain shade of brown? Or had they been a golden brown? Was I just assuming that all Atlantians had some shade of gold in their eyes?
Turning my head to the side, I saw that the bite mark was now just a pale purple bruise. It looked like one of the love bites I’d read about in Miss Willa Colyns’ diary. I flushed as I quickly braided my hair. Once completed, I tossed the plait over my shoulder, hoping the thick tail would stay in place, concealing the mark.
My gaze lowered to my hands. I have a lot of blood on my hands. As angry as I was at Casteel, his words still haunted me, as did what he’d shared about the time he’d spent as a captive. He didn’t deserve that.
Part of me still couldn’t believe that he’d taken ownership for Vikter and the others, and I couldn’t help but wonder if their deaths were part of what stained his soul.
I also wondered if what he hadn’t been able to control when he was held also darkened his soul.
If so, that sat even heavier on my heart, and I wasn’t sure what to do with any of that. Horrific things had been done to him. He’d done terrible things. Neither canceled out the other.
Kieran was at least standing when I exited the bathing chamber. He faced the banked fire, and I wondered if that was as far as he’d moved.
“Do you ever get bored?” I asked.
“With what?” he replied, sounding as disinterested as possible.
“With standing around and waiting for me? It seems like you are tasked with doing so quite often.”
“It’s actually an honor to guard what the Prince values so highly,” he replied. “And since I’m never quite sure what you’re going to do from one second to the next, it’s not even remotely boring. That is, except when you’re sleeping.”
I made a closed mouth sound of annoyance as my heart immediately went to war with my brain over why I was considered something the Prince valued. My heart, which gave a happy little flop, was obviously stupid.