Chapter 18
AUREN
My power burnout must’ve been really bad, because I sleep right through the next day. When I finally drag myself awake, dusk isn’t far off, the last hours of day burning through the windows.
I stretch and yawn as I get up, rubbing at my eyes. I strip out of my wrinkled dress and pull on a silk robe and a pair of gloves, though I’m just going through the motions. My mind is full of the man who haunted my dreams, his words a heartbreaking melody that won’t stop replaying.
I’m saying that you are my own good.
And for you, I gave you a choice.
But you chose him.
My tongue drags against my lips, like I might still get a lingering taste. I don’t know if I’ll ever forget the feel of him or ever lose the thrill I felt when he looked me in the eye and told me that he was choosing me. It makes my heart feel so hopeful and yet so damn terrified too.
With an anxious sigh, I run my hands through my tangled hair and grab the fae book I stuffed under my mattress, before I take a seat on the gilded chair in front of the fireplace. I was woken up earlier when the servant came in to build up the flames and bring new wood, though I groaned at the unwelcome presence of the two guards monitoring her. Luckily, they were all out again before I even cracked open both eyes, and none of them said a word.
Digby would’ve grunted at me, telling me in that wordless way of his to stop moping around, but that thought just makes my stomach twist with a hurt I can’t ease.
Tucking my feet underneath me, I stare off into the fire and look through the book absentmindedly when a knock sounds on the door. For a second, my heart beats wildly, like it might be Slade on the other side, though I know that’s a stupid thought. Setting the book down, I wander over to the door, cracking it open to find Scofield.
I’m careful to keep my body mostly hidden, since the robe only reaches my knees. “Yes?”
“My lady, King Midas has summoned you,” Scofield tells me, though his tone is formal, and he’s not quite looking me in the eye, probably because of my state of undress. “You’re to meet him in the formal dining room in an hour.”
“Alright…did he say why?” Up until now, he’s preferred that I stay shut away in my rooms during the day unless I’m gilding the damn castle. This summons is reminiscent of when I’d be called to formal meals in Highbell…and not in a good way.
“Her Majesty the Queen of Third Kingdom arrived last night. King Midas and Prince Niven are hosting a welcome meal in her honor.”
“Is that so,” I say under my breath, my mind already working. It won’t be dusk for a while yet, so I’ll have to be careful. “Thanks for the heads-up, Scofield.”
I move to shut the door, but he raises a hand, stopping me. My brows pull together. “Is something wrong?”
Scofield looks just over my shoulder. “No, but…we are also to assess your rooms.”
I look between him and the other unfamiliar guard, and irritation roots my bare feet right into the ground. “Now?”
“Yes, my lady.”
For a second, I envision slamming the door in his face, but that would really only be satisfying if it were Midas standing here.
Instead, I spin on my heel and walk away, leaving the door ajar behind me, letting Scofield and three more guards file inside.
None of them will look at me.
Systematically, they all start checking the entire space. I’d forgotten how much I hated Midas’s random room checks. Back in Highbell, they were often. But no matter how many times it happened, I never stopped hating them. They always feel like such an invasion of privacy, reminding me that even though these are my rooms, they aren’t really mine.
Midas could’ve had this done while I was gone, but he purposely has me in here while they’re doing it. As a warning, maybe, to remember that everything belongs to him.
My eyes fly to the book I haphazardly left on the chair. I look back at the guards, but so far, they’re all near the bed. I hold back the urge to run and take measured steps instead. The second I’m sitting down, I stuff the book beneath my thighs and fix my robe to make sure it’s hidden.
Body tense, I watch the guards sweep the room with meticulous attention. One of them even has a little piece of parchment in his hand that he keeps referring to, and based on the way he’s counting my pillows, I know it’s a tally mark of all the possessions I should have.
The sheets and blankets on my bed are scrutinized. The rugs and curtains are checked, the chairs and walls examined. I wonder if they know why they’re doing this or if they count it as another one of Midas’s controlling tendencies.