Page 119 of Wolf Caged
He had barely looked at me, even though I had worn the clothes he had selected for me, ones that revealed a hint of cleavage, and hadn’t uttered a single syllable in the last twenty minutes. I felt invisible as I sat in the matching armchair opposite him, an empty expanse of crimson rug the only thing separating us, and I didn’t like it. But if he was content to brood and glower at the fire, it was fine with me. We weren’t the only two people in the room after all.
Vyr flowed with grace around the large room, dressed in soft black cotton pants that hugged her long legs and a loose black blouse, her onyx hair braided down both sides of her head behind her ears, the plaits thicker than the ones Kaeleron wore in his own hair. Hers formed a soft net made of four long braids that weighed down the rest of her hair.
The room Kaeleron had chosen for this evening was a study in gothic, with its black walls and blood-red furniture that matched the furniture in my own room. The cherry-coloured wood shimmered in the firelight, an almost metallic quality tothe grain. It framed the armchairs and the matching couch to my right that faced the fireplace, and made the side cupboards and tables stand out against the stone walls.
“We used to have all this furniture in what is now your room, but it seemed so crowded in that smaller space,” Jenavyr said as she ran a hand over the side table where servants had set out silver trays of glasses and a crystal decanter of amber liquid that Kaeleron was slowly working his way through in moody silence. “Now half of it is here, in our private drawing room.”
“Do you not bring guests here?” I looked at the room, at the beautiful vases that stood on the side tables and on plinths in the corners of the room, and the elegant chandelier that hung in the centre of the ceiling, formed of globes of golden light that danced and moved around the gilt arms that resembled branches of an upside down tree.
That ceiling had been painted as beautifully as the one in the dining room, the artist having perfectly captured the stunning aurora-kissed starlit sky of this court, and was framed with gilded cornicing too.
“No,” Kaeleron muttered.
Jenavyr rolled her eyes at him. “The furniture was our mother’s. A wedding present from our father. Although I am not sure why blood-coloured furniture could be considered romantic. It was expensive though. The finest craftsmen in the court worked on the pieces.”
“I’ve never seen wood like it.” I stood and went to the side table, running my fingers over the smooth surface and watching the grain shift colours as the fire flickered.
“It comes from the Forest of Blood,” Kaeleron stated, all matter of fact.
I pulled a face as I withdrew my hand. “It does look a bit like blood. But a forest of blood? Like… is that rivers running red through the trees or corpses spread around feeding them?”
The thought this beautiful wood might be created by trees sucking up the blood of the dead turned my stomach and made it a bit less fascinating.
But only a bit.
Vyr chuckled. “No. Nothing like that.”
Kaeleron swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his eyes on it. “It is a beautiful place. The leaves are deep scarlet and the bark of the trees is almost black, and the ground beneath their roots is as blood-red as the canopy above. It is a strange, ethereal sort of place, and befitting of the Twilight Court whose castle is nestled in the beating heart of that wood.”
“I don’t want to think about why something called the Forest of Blood suits the Twilight Court.” I curled my lip. “It makes them sound barbaric, as if that red carpet beneath the trees is in fact made of the blood of those they have slaughtered.”
“Who says it is not?” Kaeleron arched an eyebrow at me.
I shuddered.
Vyr sighed, came to me and placed her hand on my arm. “Ignore him. He is in an overdramatic mood because court did not go well.”
Kaeleron huffed and knocked his drink back, and then glared at the glass as if he could shatter it with his mind. Which he probably could. I still didn’t know the full extent of his powers or how strong they were. I had only been given hints about them, and that he could level this kingdom if he wanted to.
His gaze slid to me, catching me staring at him, and his fine black eyebrows rose as he tilted his empty glass towards me. “I could take you there one day.”
“No thank you,” I blurted, despite how tempting that offer and the thought of seeing more of Lucia was.
He kept holding the glass out towards me.
I huffed as I took the hint and grabbed the decanter from the silver tray on the side table and pulled the stopper out.The pungent heat and sharpness of the alcohol hit my nostrils, singeing them, and I wrinkled my nose.
“It smells like paint stripper,” I muttered.
His eyebrows rose higher on his forehead. “Paint stripper?”
“Something the king doesn’t know about. Colour me amused.” I grinned at him as I crossed the room to him, weathering his scowl that made him look far too handsome and alluring. I had missed our moments like these, this back and forth we often shared that seemed to lighten something inside me and made me forget my aches and pains. “If you can’t figure it out for yourself, I’m not going to baby you by telling you the answer.”
His expression hardened further.
I tilted the decanter towards his glass.
In a lightning-fast move, he snared my wrist and twisted me, pulling me down onto his thighs and spilling the alcohol all over my low-cut blouse.
