Page 52 of A Blightress of Wrath
“Islept hard.I’musually up this early.”
Istepped back into the room, thankful she’d started the fire again soIcould see.Igrabbed my shirt and pulled my arms through, beginning to fasten the buttons at the bottom.
Hercheeks flushed andIrealized she’d likely never seen much of the male body.Icouldn’t even remember the last time we’d gone swimming together in theGreatStreamofFelgren.
“Ishould start packing,” she muttered, spinning on her heels to avoid me.
Ihid my chuckle at her embarrassment, refraining from teasing her on the day she’d be leaving her home for the first time.Ifinished my shirt and headed to the chaise, pulling on my boots.
Shebegan yanking skirts and dresses from her drawers, folding them neatly on the bed, muttering to herself something too low for me to hear.
“TheSpirehas…”Islipped on my last boot and stood. “Adifferent style of clothing thanFelgren.You’llsee whatImean when we get there.”
“Areyou suggestingI’mgoing to stand out like a sore thumb in something like this?”Sheheld up one of her gauzy dresses lined in pale pink lace.
“Ilike that one.”
“Ilook like a child in most of these.”Shebit her lower lip, scrunching her face.
Mygut lurched at her expression.Iwas in so much trouble.
“Whatabout this?”Shetossed the dress back into the wardrobe and pulled out a black skirt and cream top with ties up the front.Sheheld the pieces up against her body for me to weigh in.
Myheart tugged for the third time this morning.Shewas adorable standing there—hair a frizzy mess pulled up on top of her head, sleep still dragging at her eyes.
Inodded convincingly. “Thatone.”Icleared my throat and headed to her door in a rapid dash. “I’llsee you at breakfast.”Ileft before she could say anything more and slammed the back of my head against her closed door, releasing a breath and wondering howIwas ever going to get through this.
* * *
Breakfastwas a somber affair.
Myparents had pelted me with questions as soon asIgot to their room to start packing up whatIhad just unpacked only days ago.
Theywanted to know everythingSaehad told me and everythingIknew aboutBaronRevich.I’dshrugged more than once, reminding them they’d actually trained with him, not me.
Theyasked aboutSae’spower and whatIknew of it.Itold them what littleIdid know or at least most of whatIknew, explaining that, yes,Ihad always known she was more powerful than most.
Whenwe’d arrived at breakfast, packed and ready for the day’s journey,BaronKarusandPompeiiwere already seated.Theysat across from each other at the ridiculously long dining room table, chewing silently.Myparents stopped in the doorway, staring at theBaron, waiting for…something.
“Therewere reasons you could not know,” theBaronspoke softly, her black eyes focused on the three of us.
“Reasons?” my father scoffed. “Likewhat?”
“Talon.”Mymother used her light voice to calm him as she often did.
TheBaronanswered with, “Wewill discuss further details on the matter when we arrive at theSpirefor the meeting of theFourand the commanders.”
“Furtherdetailson the matter?”Myfather ignored my mother’s steady calmness as he brushed forward, sliding into the chair next to theBaron, continuing, “Youtold usRevichwas dead.Youtold the worldRevichwas dead and seventeen years later, you spring it on everyone—on your owndaughter—that we need to change theDimmingto accommodate saving him?”
Pompeiicleared his throat. “Youspeak to theBaronofFelgren,Talon, lest you’ve forgotten.”
“Idon’t give a damn,” he snapped.
Mymother gasped and my brows rose in shock.I’dnever heard such words or disrespect from my father.
“Talon,”BaronKarussoothed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Thereare threads hereIdon’t expect you to yet understand, butI’masking you to trust me.”
Hepulled his shoulder back from her hand, demanding, “Whyhaven’t you saved him?”
