A groan rose from behind the other side of the wall, and then a muffled. “Ugh. Can’t you just sleep? Work off your anger issues tomorrow when you can fly around the mountains.”
I hadn’t planned to hit the wall, and I had definitely not expected her to respond to it. “You’re awake.” My voice was flat and empty. I could hardly believe she’d spoken to me like that.
A dramatic sigh answered, followed by a slightly louder, “I am now.”
Not only had I caged her, I’d kept her awake with my own turbulent thoughts. Or…
Had she kept me awake by intruding into my thoughts? If that was the case, then it was most appropriate that her night be as sleepless as mine. “Can I talk to you?” I asked.
She snorted. “You already are.”
“There’s a door in this wall. Can I open it?” Hearing the words take up space in the dark night—and then not hearing her respond—made me realize how that request could be misconstrued.
Just as I realized how awful it might sound, she finally asked, “To what end?”
I knocked my forehead against the wall. How could I have been so brash? “To speak with you,” I clarified. “That is all. I have questions, and I would prefer not to have a wall interrupting theconversation.”
Silence again.
At least half a minute passed before her voice returned, more timid than before. “I have questions too.”
I smiled. She might be unpredictable, but Mylo was right—she had not been a difficult prisoner in any way. “Might I suggest an exchange of information and ideas, then?” I asked. “Through an opened door?”
I turned my head and pressed my ear to the wall. Sounds of shuffling blankets, footsteps, a wardrobe opening and closing, and more footsteps had me checking myself to see what I wore. A formal tunic and trousers. Perfectly appropriate.
When she softly called, “You can open the door now,” I did so quickly… and then I froze.
She had wrapped a pale blue dressing gown over whatever she was wearing to bed. It was modest and decent, but seeing her stand in it with her arms crossed and her eyes tired, made her look both beautiful and more vulnerable than any other time we’d spoken. I felt doubly cruel for everything I’d done to her, and the urge to protect the selfless goodness she offered her brother surfaced again.
I realized I was staring at her when she asked, “Do you want to start?” in a voice barely over a whisper.
I raised a brow. “Why are you whispering? We’re the only people in this tower.”
She mirrored my brow raise but managed to add a sardonic glint to it. “I suspect either Koan or Jolter is sleeping in the hall.”
“Sleeping?” I should wake them up. “They’re supposed to be guarding you, not sleeping.”
A warm smile replaced her earlier expression. “I believethey’ve set their magic to alert them if anyone enters the hall.”
The warmth in her face and voice made me jealous. What emotions played on her face when she spoke of me? But that was a line of thought I could not afford to entertain. Kings orchestrated order and safety—they did not worry about what others thought of them.
“Do you like the brothers?” I asked instead.
She nodded. “They’re sweeter than I gave them credit for when I first met them.”
I scoffed. “You mean when they attacked you in the dungeon?”
She smiled. “Yes. I’m… not mad about that anymore.”
“Because they’ve been… sweet?” That made no sense. One good deed did not make a bad one disappear.
She tightened the gown around her. “Sort of.” She must have seen my confusion because she elaborated. “I don’t think they went down there with the idea of hurting me. I think they were curious. And prone to making poor decisions without thinking through them. And they’d been told a lot of untrue things about fae in general.”
She swallowed but kept talking. “Once they realized they had hurt me, and scared me, they felt really bad, and they’ve done their best to make it up to me.”
I nodded slowly and gestured at her gown. “Did they get you clothes?”
Her eyes widened as she dragged her chin back and forth twice. “No, Your Majesty.”
