“Go speak with Jasper,” I cut in. “Because as I already said, I don’t really want to talk to you right now.”
“Keep telling yourself that, and maybe it’ll be true.” Casteel turned to Kieran as I came this close to punching him. “I really hope your father has a good reason for wanting to speak with me right this moment.”
“Knowing him, he probably just wants to laugh at you,” Kieran replied. “So have fun with that.”
Casteel flipped Kieran off as he stalked back toward the doors.
“Very princely,” Kieran called after him and then turned to me. “Come, Penellaphe. I’ll take you back to your room. Then I must ensure that Casteel actually doesn’t end up slaughtering someone, because my father is sure to drive him crazy.”
“I don’t—” Exhaling heavily, I was too irritated to even argue. “Whatever.”
Kieran extended an arm and waited. Swallowing a mouthful of curses, I walked past him.
“That was a spectacular dinner,” he said as we rounded the fortress.
“Wasn’t it?”
He snorted.
Neither of us spoke as he walked me back to my room. It was only when he went to close the door that I asked, “Your father is the what? Leader of the wolven?”
“He speaks for them, yes. Brings any concerns or ideas to the King and Queen.”
Remembering that Vonetta planned to travel home to visit their mother, I asked, “Is your father normally in Spessa’s End?”
“He comes quite regularly to check on the wolven that are here. Sometimes, our mother travels with him, but she’s due soon.”
For a moment, what he’d said didn’t make sense. And then it did. “Your mother is pregnant?”
A faint grin appeared. “You look so surprised.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that…you’re around Casteel’s age, right?”
“We’re the same age. Vonetta—who won’t be the baby of the family much longer—was born sixty years after me,” he answered. “My father is nearly six hundred years old—my mother four hundred. Next to Alastir, he is one of the oldest wolven still alive.”
“That’s a…hell of an age gap between children,” I murmured.
“Not when you think about how long it takes to rear a wolven. Beckett may resemble a mortal who is no older than thirteen, but in reality, he is older than you by many years. So is Quentyn.”
That made sense. Casteel had said that aging slowed once an Atlantian entered the Culling. Quentyn may look my age or slightly younger, but he was most likely years older than me. “How did your father come to this position?”
“Not many wolven survived the war, so there simply wasn’t a lot to choose from,” he explained, and that…that was sad to consider. “Are you sure that is what you want to ask me about?”
It was.
And it wasn’t.
Another question burned through me, but I wasn’t going to ask that.
Kieran hesitated and then nodded. “Then goodnight, Penellaphe.”
“Goodnight,” I murmured, standing there until the door closed. Then I was alone. Alone with only my feelings, my own thoughts.
Promised to another.
Weariness enveloped me as I slowly walked into the bedroom. I went to the clothing Vonetta had brought over, relieved to see not a single item of white. I picked up a dark blue tunic with fine gold threading along the hem and edging. It was sleeveless and long, with slits up the sides. There was another that was gold, nearly the color of an elemental’s eyes. I smoothed my hand over the soft, cottony material. There was another shirt of emerald green, one with frilly sleeves and a fancy neckline. I sat the tops aside, finding two pairs of black leggings that were as thick as breeches, and both appeared as if they’d fit me. A hooded cloak made of cotton was folded on top of several new undergarments. Vonetta had mentioned the cloak, and now that I saw it, I knew she was right when she’d said it was far more suitable than the heavier winter cloaks.
But it was what lay underneath that confused me.
It was a splash of blue nearly as pale as a wolven’s eyes. I picked up the slippery, silky material, my eyes widening at the tiny straps and minimal length.
The thing was indecent.
But the nightgown I’d been given in New Haven was far too heavy for nights that didn’t drop below freezing, and this…this nightgown didn’t actually require a sash to stay closed, so there was that.
Dropping it onto the bed, I turned around and I had no idea how long I stood there before I sprang forward, racing back into the living area. I went to the door, placing my hands on it. Tentatively, I reached down and turned the handle.