Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I dream of dragons.
10
ELAINA
Xaren is already gone in the morning when I wake. There’s no note—just the covers thrown back on his side of the bed and a pillow that still smells like him. I know because I lean over and press my face to it. I don’t know why I do that—I just like the way he smells. His dark spice makes me tingle for some reason—in a good way.
I pull my robe back on and slip my feet into my slippers. I notice that the sheets we slept on are black—good. At least the maids won’t be able to tell that my virgin blood wasn’t spilled last night. Although eventually, it must be.
I make my way back up the stairs. The servant is there, waiting. He nods when he sees me, then glides silently away—no doubt to report success to the Queen. I hope that she won’t call me and interrogate me because then I’d have to lie and say the Dark Prince had me last night when he didn’t. And I’m not a very good liar, as I demonstrated the night before.
I go back to my rooms and Tanzy gets me dressed for the day. Breakfast first, then riding. It’s become my habit to go out every day at the same time. I find spending time on Maribelle’s broad back while she meanders through the meadows around the Citadel is immensely relaxing. And after the tension of last night, I could certainly use some relaxation.
As I leave my rooms, dressed in my riding habit, I happen to see Prince Dorian and Henri coming down the hall. Quickly, before they can see me, I duck into a little alcove that holds a miniature statue of a dragon. The dragon has its head bowed and its stone spines dig into my back as I press myself back against it, not wanting to be seen by the man who rejected me.
He might not see me, but I can see him and his “best friend.” The two of them are walking close and talking in low voices. Still, I can hear them, thanks to the stone throat of the hallway.
“So you got it?” Henri asks, his eyes trained on Dorian’s clenched fist.
“Of course! Took it from her jewelry box—right out from under her nose. She never suspected a thing.”
Dorian opens his fist and shows something that makes me clap a hand over my mouth. The Queen’s ruby pendant is cupped in his palm! The same one she wore the first day I came to Court. It matches her favorite gown—it’s her favorite piece of jewelry and no wonder—the ruby is pure, blood red and as big as my thumb.
She’s definitely going to miss it. What can Dorian be thinking?
“You have a buyer for it?” Henri asks.
The Crown Prince nods.
“A jewel merchant from the East. He’s coming to the Citadel on Friday next. Until then, I’ll keep it in my own jewel box—not even the servants can get to it because, as you know, I have the only key.” He makes a face. “That will teach Her Majesty to cut my allowance, just because I didn’t want to bed the nasty little freak she made me marry.”
“But won’t you get into trouble? What will the Queen say when she finds it gone?” Henri asks anxiously.
Dorian shrugs—a careless gesture.
“Let the servants take the blame. It’s of little consequence.”
They have more to say but they’ve reached his rooms now and pushed their way inside, closing the door behind them.
I stand there for a moment…should I say something? I don’t want anyone getting punished…but would the Queen believe me, if I told? Dorian is her favorite—I doubt she’d look kindly on me for tattling on him.
I try to put the whole matter out of my head. I know it’s cowardly of me, but I can’t go talk to the Queen right now. She’ll no doubt want details of the night I spent with Xaren. And as I said before, I’m not a very good liar.
For now, I’m going to go take my morning ride on Mirabella and try not to think about what might happen when the Queen finds her ruby pendant missing.
11
ELAINA
Mirabella is placid to the point of sleepiness as the groom leads her to the mounting block so I can get astride her back. I’m meant to be riding side-saddle—all the proper ladies in Court do. I tried to copy them when I first came to the Citadel but I kept slipping off. Besides, it’s so uncomfortable. I finally gave in and asked for a “man’s saddle” which the grooms grudgingly provided.
“So, my Lady—I hear you got quite an eyeful here the other day.”
“Excuse me?” I look down from my horse’s back to see the groom is talking to me. He’s a pale, thin man with dirty blonde hair. I think his name is “Grims.”