CHAPTER FIVE
Elsie, one of Ingrid’s ladies who was particularly skilled with styling hair, had volunteered her services to even out the cut that Mira had given herself. Mira was glad she’d taken her up on it as she turned from side to side examining her new style.
She’d returned to her bed chambers after thanking Elsie profusely, uncomfortable to remain in the claustrophobic atmosphere of the Queen’s parlor. She stood on her balcony, looking out over the gardens and the lake, enjoying the way the wind caressed her neck without her long hair in the way. A soft knock came on her bedroom door, and a moment later it opened to reveal Tarquin. She was surprised to see him again so quickly after last time, and surprised that he’d opened the door without waiting for her to answer. He always waited for her to answer when she was in her room.
She watched him as his gaze swept over her room, and then focused on her open balcony door, and then beyond that to her face. She wondered what he might say about her hair, then decided she didn’t care. When he approached her, though, he only took her face in his hands and looked at her, his face drawn tight with solemnity and… something else that she didn’t recognize, that she hadn’t seen before.
“I’m leaving,” he murmured quietly while she was still confused about the gentle touch and the lack of heat in his eyes.
“Oh,” was her only response.
“I’ll be back,” he said quietly, “but I don’t know how long it will take. A few days, a week maybe.”
She just nodded at him with wide eyes, wondering at this strange farewell, and the strange way he seemed to want to touch her without devouring her.
He pulled her against him then in an embrace that surprised her so much that she wasn’t sure if the air was knocked from her lungs in shock or from his hard arms holding her so tightly. His hands didn’t roam, though, and instead of his lips leaving hot trails on her neck they just pressed into her hair, murmuring that he liked it short, too.
“Goodbye, Mira,” he said as he released her, and put her hands on her shoulders. “I’ll miss you,” he added, oddly.
She blinked after him as he turned to leave, watching him pass through her door and look back at her, just for a moment. She watched her door for a long time afterward, still wondering at his strange affection, still feeling the warmth from his palms on her cheeks.
Three days passed. Three days with the queen gone, with the entire court abuzz with gossip, without any stolen kisses or touches from the man that Mira was trying to convince herself she didn’t miss. He hadn’t told her where he was going, but it had seemed obvious to everyone that they were off to rescue the king from wherever he’d been. Upstairs in the palace lay a score of slumbering dragons, that had been magically put to sleep when the king had gone missing, and on the second day, when they began to awake, Mira tried to convince herself that the pleasure she felt was because it meant that the king had been rescued; surely, that he was alright, and not that a certain dark-eyed man would be back soon for her to kiss and tell that she’d missed him, too.
Mira found herself spending time in the Queen’s parlor, if only to hear what they might know. Her ladies were more subdued than usual, but Lily chattered on just as much as she ever had, speculating and complaining that people really shouldn’t be speculating, and then speculating some more. John, Lily’s husband, had raised his eyebrows at that, but Lily had just elbowed him good-naturedly and continued inventing details about the whereabouts of the Queen. Mira knew that she feared for her best friend, the nervous undercurrent running through her every word giving her away. Lily was well-intentioned, but normally too much for Mira; she appreciated the company, though, if only for the fact that it made time seem to pass more quickly.
Her days were strange without being split in two; in the morning when she’d wait for Tarquin to find her and claim her, and in the evening when he already had and she could hardly wait for the next day. She wished that it didn’t affect her so much, wished that she’d approached the encounters with the same carefree manner that she intended to portray about them, but he’d somehow slunk into her mind during the days and into her dreams at night. By the third day, she missed him— didn’t just miss being kissed but actually missed his presence, missed the quick whispered words he’d tell her, even missed the way he glared at her whenever he spotted her from across a room. It didn’t make sense, her missing him, but she did.
In the morning of the fourth day, as she walked with Lily and John through the front hall, returning to the Queen’s parlor for their customary after-breakfast game of cards, the many courtiers seemed unusually hushed. Mira found herself examining the crowd, wondering at the heat flooding her body and the prickling on the back of her neck.
She turned, wildly, and there by the door she met a dark, dark gaze.