Page 97 of The Curse of a Kingdom
The room was cold enough that she took notice, but the flames in the fireplace rolled to life soon after the thought crossed her mind.
The scent of spices burned her nose and she focused on Arkimedes, who stood in the middle of the room, both hands extended in front of him, while dark mist spread out of his fingertips and leaked into the walls and floor.
The making of wards was a spell she had started to learn a month ago. There hadn’t been much of a need for her to master it after Devon’s soldiers had been placated. However, her mate had insisted she learn the basics just in case.
Just as she turned her palms up and called on her magic to ward this room for something she didn’t know, Arkimedes opened his eyes and faced both Devon and her, frowning.
Her gut churned with an uneasiness that didn’t belong to her. “Is everything all right?”
“I don’t know. But we are closer now to the king’s wing. We should head there as quickly as possible and then get out of here. You will need to bring your clothes to you. I’m afraid someone was in your room, and we should try to avoid a trap.”
She swallowed; her scalp crawled with the sensation of being watched. This learned magic, wards and calling spells, was something she was very new and self-conscious about.
She wouldn’t have been ashamed to have Ark watch and even instruct her on what to do, but this was not her normal soulmate, and now they were joined by none other than Devon Black.
“Calm down, cat, it’s just a spell,” Devon said, reading every single one of her insecurities that were no doubt painted on her face.
“Shut it.”
His smirk grew wider, and Arkimedes stepped forward, his brows knitting together. “What’s the problem?”
“I almost forget I might know more about your soulmate than you nowadays,” Devon gloated, and that had both Nava’s and Arkimedes’s frown become more pronounced. “Celeste and the potion maker had Nava living in a non-magical town. The poor thing had barely any knowledge of magic when we met last year.”
Arkimedes’s eyes cut to her at the same time her cheeks burned.
“I know how to make a calling spell.”
“Good, then you won’t have to run in heels and that gown,” Devon said.
Ark started, “I could go and—”
“You’d better not offer to get me my things from that room, Arkimedes, if you know what’s good for you,” she said, not even bothering to turn to face him, but by the cackling of Devon’s laughter, she could imagine his face.
Nava swallowed the knot in her throat; she had learned earlier in the year that you could call on your things. Which was why Arkimedes couldn’t manifest her clothing or the keys the king now held in his room.
It was why last year he could call the things that were in his cabin—though she’d never gotten him to explain how he could get fresh bread while they were traveling.
Nava walked to the bed and took a seat in the corner, opening her hands and closing her eyes. She pictured the armoire of the green bedroom, the musty scent inside, the now-black gowns, and the area where her clothes lay, neatly folded over.
Nava remembered the details of the white linen fabric of her shirt, the rough cotton of her pants. The worn leather of her boots, still caked with mud from her backyard. She wanted to bring anything she wore the day she’d left the Grey Island. Everything from those days was so far away now, but it represented a level of comfort she hadn’t been able to reach.
Her skin turned warm as her magic became alive in her veins, right before the weight of her clothes appeared in her hands.
Devon’s soft cackle turned into full-blown laughter, causing Nava to snap her eyes open and find to her horror that alongside her pants, shirt, and boots, her undergarments had appeared as well. Folded pieces of lace and thin fabric on top.
Bringing all her clothes to her chest to hide any evidence the Crow could see, she schooled her features and faced them both with what she hoped was a cool expression. “I know it has been a while since you have seen a woman’s undergarments, but don’t let it get you too worked up.”
Devon choked, and she dared to look at Arkimedes, whose red face showed mirth, a smirk tilting his lips.
She stood from the bed and made her way into the washroom to get changed and put her embarrassment behind her.
By the time she got out of the room, wearing the clothes that fit her a bit too loose, she found Devon and Arkimedes talking in hushed tones, the latter removing cufflinks from the black shirt that peeked out of the sleeves of his jacket. “So what now?”
“Well, we—”
The knock on the door had Arkimedes stopping mid-sentence, his back straightening as he looked at the door with a deepening frown. No one spoke or moved a muscle.
“Your Highness, are you there?” Fael’s familiar voice came from the other side of the door. “I haven’t been able to find Miss Nava ever since dinner.”
