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Fadon. What would he be able to do? I had known there was tension between him and his brother, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care for him. He, like the queen, would put duty before mercy—mercy for me and my plight. So no help there, I thought.
I was on my feet now, starting to pace. I needed some fresh air. I looked at the closed balcony, where a nightmare had played out and where Fear perched.
A stroll in the gardens. Somewhere outside the Mor. But what about my guards? Well, I’d simply have to take them with me. I had to get out of this room, out from under a roof and into Nature’s lap, where I’d always sought solace.
I was dressed for the outdoors in minutes. I’d go for a ride, I decided. I grabbed my riding gloves and a cloak. My hair I left down.
“I’m going to the stables,” I told my guards after throwing open my door. The hall was quiet and only lit by a few sconces on the walls, but enough light to see their displeasure as one of them left the hall. There was no one but them around, and I prayed to the gods Cornelius stayed put in Lysander’s bedroom.
After waiting a bit, the guard returned, followed by my entourage, ready to escort me to the stables. I exhaled a relieved breath. I was afraid they had orders to keep me in my room at night.
Outside, the main courtyard was empty of people, and our steps echoed loudly in the night’s silence. A groom was summoned, my newly acquired horse saddled. I rode out onto the grounds, leaving the Mor proper, my guards following behind at a polite distance.
The moon was setting low in the night sky, casting its luminous white and pale yellow glow onto the frosted ground which sparkled like diamonds. In the east, dawn was awakening. My hair flew behind me, my gloves tight on the reins, my mind finally empty.
I rode until I felt fatigued enough to turn around and go back to my room, where I fell to the bed, wearing boots and all, and let my body finally sleep.
Chapter 39
Sierra
Morning light pressed against my closed lids, badgering me, along with someone rocking me gently.
“My lady, you must wake. Queen Alpha is expecting you within the hour. Come on, wake up,” Tilly said.
“No, let me sleep,” I begged, my voice hoarse.
She laughed. “I cannot do that, my lady. I have hot tea and brought up your breakfast.”
Hot tea did sound good. I threw off the blanket and opened one eye. Tilly was standing beside the bed, a sweet—and relieved—smile on her face.
“Good morning, my lady.”
“Mmm. Good morning, Tilly.” I yawned, stretching my arms over my head.
“Didn’t sleep well, I take it?”
I felt my feet inside my tight boots. I wasn’t in my nightgown. Everything came back to me then. Cornelius pleasuring Lysander, learning the two were in love, knowing now that Lysander and I would never work.
A horrible sense of despair, raw and biting, washed over me.
“No, I didn’t.” I sat up, threw my legs over the side of the bed, removed my boots, and dragged myself to the wardrobe.
Tilly followed on swift feet and began picking out a few gowns for me to wear, asking for my approval about the red one, the frilly pink one, or the light-weight gold one.
I didn’t care, so I just pointed straight ahead. The red one it would be.
I dressed, ate a few bites of egg and toast, and let Tilly do my hair while I sat at my vanity with a heavy heart. My face was pale today, my eyes not as bright, my mouth slack from apathy. I still didn’t know what to do but go through the motions of a fully scheduled day.
Sighing, I left my room and was escorted to the east wing, where we entered the queen’s sitting room. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the eastern wall, and the scent of cinnamon and apple filled the air. The room was gorgeous, decorated in pale pink and cream. Normally I would have spent a few moments taking it all in, admiring the artwork on the walls, the marble fireplace sculpted with roses, its mantel showcasing beautiful crystal treasures. But I was numb, and everything felt as trivial and plain as dust.
The queen introduced me to Hemly, her royal tailor, whose scent told me was Beta—I was getting good at my dynamic sensing skills—and who reminded me of my mother’s tailor, Chaunsy, both of whom were slim as a reed, a bit pompous, but highly gifted in their trade.
The gowns, the shifts, nightgowns, underthings… all were designed with both comfort and style in mind. He showed us sketches, swatches of fabric, ribbons, and threads. I agreed to whatever the queen cooed over. I was shown the gown I’d wear tomorrow for the wedding. I had only nodded my appreciation, my eyes glancing over it with apathy.
Someone brought in lunch, and I realized how long I’d been there in the queen’s sitting room.
I longed to be outside, wanting the whole event done, when I got my wish soon after we finished our meal and tea. The queen had received a message that had her excusing herself, and my guards escorted me out of the east wing once again.
