Page 50 of The Devil In Blue
I rose from the sofa, feeling a bit of a chill that night, so I wrapped the blanket around myself and walked quietly toward the door. Barefoot since my only trips were from my bed chamber to the library over the past few days, I tiptoed in the direction I thought the music was coming from. At first, I had no idea if I was going the right way, but after trekking clear to the other end of the vast third floor, I found another set of stairs leading to yet another story. The music was louder there, echoing through the halls like the melancholy voice of a woman.
I gripped the metal railing and started to ascend.
The stairs curved and opened up into a shorter hallway with stone walls and sconces burning brightly down the length. A blue carpet stretched across the middle of a stone floor and I followed it, my feet silent.
Louder and louder the music grew. I passed a few big doors but refrained from looking inside. I was easily sidetracked and I wanted to find the source of the tune.
Then, turning a corner, I saw one door that was cracked and letting faint light bleed through. The music was just inside and when I began moving closer to it, the mournful melody became a bit angry. Intense. Then it shifted to something energetic but just as strong. The tangle of emotions was torturing the strings of a viola and it was intoxicating.
I crept toward the door and took the silver handle, pushing it open just enough to peek inside. I saw pale wooden beams and arches throughout a vast bedroom. Blue marble floors. A fireplace as tall as I was with disciplined flames dancing on a stack of logs. A giant bed with silver and blue silk sheets sat a little disheveled in the middle of the chamber like someone had just climbed out of it. The ceiling was a gorgeous mess of vines with tiny white flowers dangling like little dew drops. Tables were stacked with books and candles were fused to wall shelves with melted wax.
The music enveloped the room, bouncing off the walls so the chamber was flooded with the hypnotic sound. I crept inside, heart pounding because something told me exactly whose room I was in. It smelled like him. Itfeltlike him. Part of me was screaming for me to run and another part of me was too overcome by the music to heed those warnings.
Passing a smaller table, I glimpsed a half-eaten plate of food and a half-drunk glass of red wine. What was left of the food was familiar. Boiled potatoes with cured meat, cheese, and herbs.
So Petris cooked the dish for the king as well.
The corner of my mouth quirked at the thought and remembering Petris and his kindness made me stop walking. Perhaps it wasn’t worth it to catch the king’s attention, no matter how much the music lured me in. He hadn’t called for me or even passed me in the hall for days. I nearly forgot I was residing in his palace.
And seeking him out in his rooms would only break that comfortable cycle. I decided it was best to leave.
But then the music stopped and my heart with it.
He already knew I was there.
The bedroom fell deathly silent and then there he was. The King of the Glyn moved into view from an adjacent room as if he sensed my presence. He rounded the corner and stood there with a viola blacker than coal in one hand and his bow in the other. His long, smoke-blue hair hung over his shoulders and he wore nothing aside from a pair of low-hanging silk pants. His pale chest was bare, a sculpted canvas of muscle and iridescent markings that only emphasized his masculine beauty. His wings were tucked away out of view, making him marginally less intimidating than he was the last time we saw each other.
Silence stretched between us. Rune looked at me with a sense of suspicion like he wasn’t quite sure if I was there or not and I was feeling that in my bones. Why was I there? Was I really so weak to an enticing melody?
“Forgive me,” I muttered, clutching the blanket around myself like a protective barrier. “I heard the music and… my feet got away from me.”
His eyes soaked me in thoughtfully and then he shifted, leaning his instrument against a bookshelf and placing the bow on a cluttered table. I followed the bow as he set it down and knocked a booklet to the floor. It flipped open and I caught a brief glimpse of sketches inside, one of which was of a woman with unruly pale hair and a pair of large wings spread out behind her.
Rune picked up the book, snapped it closed, and tossed it on the table with the others before I could get a good look, but something about that image seared into my mind.
“How did you get in here?”
“The door was open,” I said.
He glanced at the open door quizzically. “Was it now.” He refocused his attention on me. “You like the melody, then.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I suppose I did. I enjoy music. It distracts my thoughts.”
Our eyes locked and I felt a wave of warmth flood my skin. Maybe it was because he was without a shirt and we were standing in his bed chamber. It seemed awfully intimate for two people who didn’t know each other. Well… one person that didn’t know the other, at least.
“Do you recognize the piece?” Rune asked.
“Should I?”
Slowly, he cocked his head to one side and studied me. His gaze moved from my head to the blanket wrapped around me and then to my bare feet and back up.
“You’ve been in the library,” he said. “Yourlibrary.”
“Mine?” I vaguely recalled Petris saying something similar.
But he also said the library washers.Rune was not as gentle about the subject as Petris was and I could feel him wanting to push me again about memories I didn’t have. I needed to leave, but as soon as I slid my foot back a step, Rune advanced to keep the distance between us the same.
