Page 72 of Cursed Shadows 2

I won’t be in the trial. But that doesn’t mean I can stay in Daxeel’s bed all phase, even if I want to. Besides, maybe I’m a tad nervous for when Aleana wakes up and announces our spat to her brother.

Bonded or not, how rough he was last Quiet has warned me off pinning all my hopes on our reconciliation. More work to be done.

And I need to return to the garrison.

Father can’t punish me right now. Not while my life is owned by the Sacrament. What can he do? Can’t steal me away from Comlar, can’t banish me until the Sacrament is done.

But when that time comes, another month from now, I hopeto have Daxeel’s heart entirely. I hope to have his kiss, a true one, and to have his acceptance.

He might not marry me. Might keep me as a lover instead.

I want him to wed me, but any offer of escape is an offer I’ll take.

With the bond forged, he’ll be fuelled by the urge to keep me close, always, for the rest of our lives. I wish that meant a guaranteed marriage, his undying love.

But our game is not over yet.

I’m not disappointed. This Warmth, I’m nothing less than pleased.

Look how far I’ve come in one month.

Let’s see what I can do with another.

I’m nothing if not tenacious.

So I don’t disturb his sleep as I slip out from beneath his solid arm and the thick blankets.

He stirs, a weak frown creasing his brow, but the drink from the Quiet keeps him under.

I slide off the bed until I’m crouched on the floor. I’m as naked as can be, but I’ve never been one for shame. So I rise to stand by the floor-to-ceiling window as I dart my gaze around for my clothes in the near-darkness.

The black panelled windows conceal the outside with the thickness of a grey-leafed tree. Not much light is getting in here.

The faint light that dusts in through the window from those grey leaves is mild, but enough to illuminate the waxed black floorboards and the crumpled emerald dress tucked under the edge of the bed. And, at the base of the cushioned window bench, I spot my lingerie and a single boot.

My chest tightens with a held breath as I crouch down and reach for the satin lump. The lacquered black bedframe sits low to the floor, so it’s such a small gap that my knuckles scrape over the wood. But it’s when my hand knocks the heel of my second boot that I wince.

I peer up at Daxeel on the layers of black furs and night-sky blankets. But he’s still plummeted in the depths of sleep.

As I slip into my lingerie, then step into the dress, I fleetingly wonder if it exhausts him to let his primal self take over. How he took me last night, pure mateship, pure beast—does it drain him of his strength?

Seems it might.

Snatching up my boots, I spare Daxeel a final look before I tip-toe out of the bedroom. And, as I gently shut the door behind me, I suck in a sharp breath.

In front of my eyes, the lacquered wood transforms—it shifts from a pale canary yellow into a blue that belongs to the depths of wild waters.

I spare the changing door a frown that warps my whole face before I turn for the carpeted staircase—and make to sneak my way out of Hemlock House without being caught.

I’m not all too excited about the idea of running into another early Warmth riser, not when I stink of Daxeel and sex and drink, and I likely look like I’ve rolled my way through a brothel.

But I only make it to the second floor, to the top of the staircase, before I freeze on the spot. And I look down the stairs at a female I’ve seen before but have never spoken to. The last one I want to run into this Warmth.

I recognize her from the High Court in Licht all those years ago. She only ever spared me lingering, cold looks back then.

In the foyer is Daxeel’s mother.

Her fur-lined coat is shrugged off her shoulders. A servant—a humanslave—peels it from her slim, toned arms. The glowjars glisten on her skin, shimmering the dark complexion like freshly brewed coffee.

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