Page 4 of Haunted

Her eyes. They’re so brown. I’ve never seen a brown so intense. I have nothing to compare them to. I didn’t think her pupils would hold any sort of intensity. I expected them to be dead.

To be cold.

Warmer than honey. They’re warmer than honey.

Her beauty and eternal youth amaze me.

“You’re pale. You’ve lost a lot of blood,” she says.

I drop my head back, dizzy.

“I’m always this pale.” Especially compared to her. The empress’s rich ancestry casts her skin with cool olive undertones. She’s naturally a fair brown, whereas I get my tan from the sun when I’m not hiding from the daystar in a library and digging through dusty tomes. But I haven’t been outside much lately, so I’m as white as a sheet.

Apparently, all the blood loss doesn’t help my appearance.

Or my stamina. My muscles quiver with every movement.

I didn’t estimate this much blood loss with a wound to the stomach. How long did it take anyone to bind me? What were they doing while I bled on the ground? Even healers can’t create blood. The empress has personal healers. Did she summon one to at least close me up?

I touch the bandage on my stomach. Tender. “You didn’t summon a healer.” I’ll heal on my own within a few days, but why does she make me wait?

Because she’s cruel.

No. She’s testing me, the strength of my light. She’s most likely curious how long it’ll take my body to heal. Her intention is hard to guess. I can’t discern her. Light only discerns light.

Her light is nonexistent.

“You stepped in front of that traitor. Why bother?” she asks.

“My lord just signed our loyalty. Why wouldn’t I?”

She smiles with two full lips. “Yes. Why wouldn’t you?”

I close my eyes.

“How has a half-emrys like you come to find yourself as Siarl’s most trusted companion? He trusts no one, yet you’re invaluable to him.”

“My mother was his fourth great-grandmother. I’ve stayed close to the family over the years.” I tried my best even though I had the misfortune of watching my mortal family members die over the past one hundred or so years. Siarl’s all I have left.

“So you’re the first immortal in his court, besides the father who bastardized you. And you’ve remained loyal to the humans. You even have a dragon.”

Her hand slides behind my head, lifting it as she holds a cup to my mouth.

What’s she doing? Obligated, I drink. “My dragon found me,” I say once she takes the cup away. “You know that’s how it works.”

Her caring actions confuse me. I discern for others within the tent. No one. Why are we alone?

“You haven’t joined my dragon riders,” the empress states. The half-emrys who are fortunate enough to have dragons fight for the empress.

“Does it look like I’m a warrior?” I’m thin. I haven’t trained for combat, not when my skills lie in potions and scholarly pursuits.

She straightens. “I guess not.”

“Your Highness. I don’t mean to be an imposition. I should go.” I struggle to sit.

“You have nowhere to go.”

“I must escort my lord back to his keep.”

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