Page 11 of Nightingale

“I’m surprised that even my father seemed lost to pretty distractions, and that I was the only one who even thought to keep my sight on you for the entire four nights.” He pressed her to continue walking down the hall and up the staircase as he prowled behind like a hound on the hunt. He took two steps at a time because of the easy length of his legs, whereas she had to hop up each one individually.

“Well, I guess lucky you, sinceyourevening is tomorrow. You won’t have to try so hard since I’ll be shoved at your side, against my will.” She gestured down at herself in emphasis. “Are you going to dress me in see-through gowns and heavy gems to prevent any sign of escape?”

“I guess you’ll just have to see, Nightingale.” He draped half of his hair over his chest, the flat plaits joined with small twists that had been painstakingly threaded with silver. It made the locks shimmer and shine, looking ethereal.

Not that he needed any help with that.

Why did the best villains always look sinfully good?

“Don’t call me that.” Vrea insisted as he tugged her towards the right hallway, closer to her locked chamber.

“What’s wrong, don’t like that you sound like a lark? And here I thought that would have been a compliment for you.” He rolled his light eyes, so blue-grey that they were almost molten steel and ice wrapped in two orbs. “Would you preferVre?”

“Because I wouldn’t have sung at all if I had known that you were stalking around the corner, eavesdropping on me. Andno. How about you use my real name?” She didn’t let him take hold of her elbow again, refusing to be led around the castle like adamned dog on a leash. No one would put a collar around her. Not if she could help it, not if she had anything to say about it.

Castil looked as if he wanted to put a collar aroundher, but if she had any say of it then she’d hopefully put a collar around one of the Moordian Princes. Preferably him, with how often he staggered into her rooms with some sort of obnoxious comment or disregarding statements.

Though the thought of Rian on his knees was incredibly tempting.

“You don’t have to escort me all the way back, I know the way, Castil.” Vrea complained, shirking out of his space as he went to take her in his grasp again. “I can walk back just fine.”

“And risk you leaping out of a window in a narrow chance for escape? Or flirting with an unsuspecting guard who doesn’t know who you are and tricking him into letting you out? Perhaps you’d break into a run and sprint the remaining distance of the castle, failing at the last second as my father orders the sentries at the top of the ramparts to shoot you down with the massive crossbows he has stationed up there.”

Those must have been new additions.

She hadn’t known about those.

He observed what must have been plain annoyance on her features, at the fact that she’d missed something.

“He added those when one of your brothers attempted to cross over in our territory two months ago and tried to free you,” Castil informed her with a tiny bit of what sounded like glib glee that made her want to punch him. She controlled the urge, for now. “As you are still here, he clearly failed.”

She tucked her barbed retort down.

“Your hair,” He muttered as he scanned her head, from side to side. “It’s too long.”

“Maybe, it’s because I haven’t had the chance to cut it.” She said through gritted teeth. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve beenstuck in a locked room for almost three years.”

“Have you now?” He asked jovially.

Fuck self-restraint.

Fuckhim.

Maybe a swift punch was exactly what was needed here.

Trial and error.

Vrea went to send her curled fist into his stomach but he moved as quick as a night cat and dodged her blow. Fury was a fine thing, ripping up her throat with claws of vexation as he sidestepped another hit. He didn’t untuck his hands from behind his back as she tried again, failing. Just like the first time, he flowed like the water and air.

His hairswishedwith every fluid movement and whipped around him like a curtain of silk as he easily avoided colliding with her. It was beyond frustrating how he reacted to her like she was no more than an obnoxious fly on a hot day.

“Are you done yet?” He asked flatly, bored and it only made her want to hit him even more. But she curbed her anger and tucked it aside, lowering her arms and releasing her fingers from the clenched curl.

“For now.” She snarked, hating how he was. It wasn’t one particular thing, but him in his entirety.

“I look forward to your next attempt.” Castil saucily elicited, as if something was bothering him. She didn’t care enough to inquire about it, didn’t like him enough to dig deeper and solve the mystery that was him.

“Maybe this time you’ll stop flitting about like a horrible wasp and actually strike back.” Vrea said as they reached the doorway that led into her confined chambers.

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