Page 41 of The Shrouded Queen
“I don’t know, I guess the honey outweighs the alcohol—”
“No, I mean, why did you do that?”
He rubbed his cheek again, eyebrows still knit together. I wondered if that was the same question he’d been pondering. “Your sadness smells a lot worse than your fear.”
Heat crawled up my neck. It was a weird thing to be embarrassed about. I wasn’t even sure why I was, but I found myself mumbling, “I’ll take another bath.”
“Won’t help,” he replied, voice like hard gravel.
“Oh.”
Keir’s eyes roved over my face with that same searching stare. Something about that look made my heart beat a little faster and goose bumps ripple down my body. Keir’s chest expanded on a large inhale and didn’t sink again for a prolonged beat. I felt trapped in his luminous gaze. He’d just told me that I reeked, and yet the way he seemed to be savoring that breath…
Keir jerked up to his feet, and I jolted out of my trance. “Drink it,” he ordered, not unkindly, before he strode out of the room, steps rushed.
My gaze dropped to the kefir. Hands unsteady, I picked it up and tipped its contents back.
Smooth. Sweet. Warm. It melted into my bones and wrapped me in a ribbon of comfort.
I stared at the closed door. I struggled to make sense of the interaction, of the burn in my cheeks and the subtle pounding of my pulse throughout my body. The way he had looked at me, how he seemed just as confused as I was. The peace offering with honey held in my hands.
For the time it took me to drink the kefir, I was too baffled to be sad.
Early the next morning, there was a knock at my door. Energy shot through my veins, and I lurched off the bed and grabbed the empty kefir tankard, brandishing it over my head. But it wasn’t Keir. “Amunet?” Rade called. “May I speak with you?”
With a sharp exhale, I set the tankard back on the nightstand, not really sure what I’d planned to do with it if ithadbeen Keir. Clearing my throat, I called, “Yes.”
Rade opened the door. Neither Keir nor anyone else was standing guard. I thought I spotted Velka racing by, but Rade shut the door again before I could be sure.
I kept a studious distance between us, remembering his frightening display of rage yesterday. While he might not have instigated yesterday’s murder, he hadn’t stopped it. He held a hefty share of the blame.
Which he seemed to realize as he gazed at me with remorse weighing down the edges of his lips. “I would have come sooner, but I thought you might want some time to yourself.” He sighed and scratched his beard. “You shouldn’t have witnessed the fight. That was not the introduction I wanted for you. If I’d known you were there…”
He would’ve called it off? Had me forcibly removed? But he didn’t finish the sentence, and I was too frightened to ask.
He dipped his chin. Drew a deep breath. “I know what Ashorans say about us,” he said, “and I was hoping to change your mind.” The king huffed a sad laugh and shook his head. “I guess that’s not going to happen now, is it?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. Lie, or risk his wrath? I still had no idea what the red marks on the side of his head meant. Blue clearly represented a Shifter, but I hadn’t seen what black and red could do yet, and I didn’t particularly want to find out.
Rade saw the flightiness in my gaze and saved me from answering. “I don’t want you to be afraid of us, Amunet. I’m sorry that you are. Keir never should have forced you here.”
He sounded genuine. But I knew better than to trust a Kald. Somehow I found my voice enough to ask, “Then why have you kept me here?”
Rade scratched at his beard again, a nervous tic, his sheet ofblack hair rippling down the left side of his body like a silken river of night. There wasn’t a trace of the fury I’d glimpsed during the fight. That didn’t mean it wasn’t carefully tucked away and just waiting to jump out.
“You can leave,” he said suddenly.
My body jolted as if it would take off immediately.
Rade’s light brown eyes bored into mine. “Once I show you why Keir did what he did, you can leave. I will not be your captor. I just—need you to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“What we’re up against.” He took a small step forward, just the barest approach. I didn’t back away. Was it some sort of heretic magic that was putting me at ease? Maybe that was what his red tattoos signified. He was a witch, using his power to make me relax. Because I couldn’t deny there was something about Rade that made the tension in my back lessen and my heartbeat slow just the slightest bit. The softness in his oak-colored eyes, the crookedness of his smile, the calm radiating from him.
“My Seven…” he started. “They are the best and worst of us. Strong, loyal. But they’re all…brokensounds too harsh.Crackedmight be better. There is a crack inside all of them. It’s what makes them the best at what they do. But we are not all like them.Iam not like them.” He shuffled a few steps closer, until I had to tilt my head up slightly to meet his gaze. “All I ask is that you wait to condemn my people until I have explained. Please.”
I was wrong; it wasn’t softness in his eyes but desperation. Desperate for my help—for Amunet’s help. Whatever he wanted to convince me of, heneeded. Very, very badly.
