Page 63 of To Dance with Death

He followed me, after all.

“Jealous, Your Gloriousness?” Sundar says.

I spear an ice-sharp gaze at Sundar—making certain he feels it to the bone. “I was never given a room, Sire. Would you prefer I sleep on the floor? The roof, perhaps?”

“How very inhospitable of me,” Anton says. “That, I shall remedyat once.” A clap, and an Aegis approaches. “You will have Vastianna’s things moved to my apartments. She is, after all, a friend.” Then, at my bewildered glare, he tells me, “I will respect your wishes. I will keep my distance. But I will not honor our little bargain if you’re in bed with my enemy.”

“I am notinhis bed,” I shoot at him, but he folds his arms, resolute. Heat suffuses my cheeks until it feels like I’m boiling from the inside out.

Souls congregate around us now, though I notice Dahlia is missing, as are her friends.

Sundar leans in to whisper, excitedly, “This couldn’t have worked out better.”

“This is ridiculous andentirelyexcessive,” I say—meaning it for the both of them.

Anton slides me a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I am all those things, yes. And I pride myself on it. I will see you are taken care of,” he says as two Aegis come alongside me. “Escort her to collect her things.”

Chapter Nineteen

I don’t have many things, but I do have Anton’s pendant—which I’ve kept hidden in my breastband—and the codices I’ve collected so far. Those, I shove into a makeshift bag along with a few outfits I’ve strung together from the Modiste’s Hall, though the Aegis wrestle those from me the moment I step from Sundar’s rooms.

Sundar, for his part, is not permitted to follow me. Anton told him, emphatically, that he was lucky to keep his soul—let alone a position among the Exalted—and that the only reason he isn’t banished to the Sands or shoved into the Shadows to serve is on my account, for “however long it lasts.”

The worst part is the trek awaiting me afterward. I am already weak, my vision on the verge of blackening completely, and now I find myself being led down and through the palace, across the bridge, and into Anton’s personal wing. Just when I feel myself collapsing, a fresh layer of sweat coating my skin, an Aegis has the gall to pick me up by the waist and carry me quite awkwardly up the rest of the stairs.

Anton’s apartments, which seem to stretch the length of the entire upper floor, are magnificent. Every outer wall is constructed of delicate glass panels rimmed in gold, as are the domed ceilings. Itseems impossible for it to be held upright, supported, and yet I’m reminded of where we are. This was not crafted by a mortal. The evidence is everywhere: Urns holding glowing flowers that float midair. Baubles of light hanging suspended throughout the whole of the palace.

The view takes center stage: the backdrop of waterfall on one side, the glittering cityscape on the other. Curtains, lush and velvet, can be drawn as needed, and thick rugs soothe my aching feet, which are still nested in the thin pair of slippers I use for dancing. And as I’m led from one room to another, between parlors and down hallways, our conversation during our dance catches up tome.

I might not be willing to seduce Anton for information, but Iwillbefriend him. And in the meantime, I wonder if there might be a clue here in his chambers about Moranya. About where she might be. Their deal.

Whether it was a lie or not, Illian offered me my freedom in exchange for my spying. But his agent had to be me—because of both who I was and what I could do.

If the bond between Anton and Moranya isn’t romantic, then she needs him for something onlyhecan do; otherwise she wouldn’t have made such a deal.

But why offer him her kingdom in its entirety?

He evaded my question on the matter at our dinner, which tells me I was onto something, and I resolve to look around for a clue the moment I’m left alone. For now, I halt before the room the Aegis carries me to. It’s one of a few along this hall, the doors all identical, save for the pair of tall double doors several feet from mine.

A simple twist of the crystalline knob and my door swings open.

The room itself is as luxurious as the rest of Anton’s dwelling—jewel-toned and plush. The bed is covered by a cerulean duvet beneath a deep blue canopy. A dressing table is laden with perfumes and trinkets, baubles of light floating above them. A mantel dripswith bulbous, peony-pale flowers I don’t recognize, unique to this realm. I squirm until the Aegis puts me down. Once they have departed, I meander to the large armoire, cracking it open.

Slinky little gowns. Negligees.Underthings.

Is this where his paramours sleep?

How many live here? How many have stayed in this bed? Nausea scorches a path through my stomach. Beside the armoire, I notice another door. Thinking it a closet, I jerk it open with a scowl—

It is…not a closet.

The bed—the largest I’ve ever seen—draws my eye first. The duvet sits askew, threaded with a gold hem and studded with pearls. Night tables bracket the bed, both littered with half-full flutes. The gilded, arching window directly behind it frames the waterfall perfectly, intentionally. There’s a nook with a bar, and another set of doors parted to reveal a vast bathing chamber with an entire pool, by the look of it.

This is his Fates-forsakenbedroom.

Anger boils within me. If I have to listen to him in bed with another, I swear upon Emilia’s soul I’ll fling every last item in his wardrobe into the waterfall below. I might even push him into it for forcing this brand of proximity between us when I want nothing more than to be far,faraway.

But now that I’m alone, I begin to rifle through his nightstands, ignoring my fatigue. The first has nothing but a collection of jewelry.