CHAPTER TWO
Several days passed in a blur of sleeping, waking intermittently to panic and wonder where she was, and then collapsing in exhaustion again. Mira knew it had been several days because she’d awoken to a dark room and a light room both, several times, and because when she was finally, actually awake, Lily informed her of it. She was in her room with a pot of tea and a friendly smile.
She accepted it gratefully, once she’d finally managed to sit herself up without feeling like she was going to tip over. Lily chattered easily about the things that Mira had missed over the last few days, and in the time before she’d come to the castle. Most notably, she supposed, that the king was missing.
“Ingrid’s struggling,” Lily said, making a sad face over her own tea. “I think that’s why she invited us. She’s alone and scared and suddenly ruling. She’s doing well at that, though.”
Mira thought of the tiny queen and her sad eyes. “Of course she is.”
Lily grinned at that. “What have you been up to since we left you in the middle of nowhere?”
Mira smiled. Lily and her husband John had taken her home after Dragongrove had burned. She’d been surprised at the time by how much she enjoyed their company, even if Lily’s conversation had occupied them most of the two day journey. Mira found an unlikely kinship in John, who disliked talking as much as she did.
“Nothing,” she said. “Everything is as if I never left. Chores and arguments and dressing up pretty to please my parents.”
“Arguments?” Lily prompted.
Mira shrugged. “There always are, but it was a little crazy this time. My brother’s gotten some girl pregnant and they didn’t want to get married. My mother went a little crazy, and they are now.”
“I’m glad you got away from that, then,” Lily laughed.
“I was so relieved when I got that letter,” said Mira. “I left the same day.”
“Us too.” Lily finished her tea and took a turn around the small, dark room. “This room is terrible,” she said. “The ones connected to the queen’s apartments are much nicer, but they’re full. I’m sure there’s something better in this palace. Ingrid asked me to tell you that you may choose a room anywhere you wish.”
Mira nodded; the thought pleased her. Her room had seemed nice, certainly nicer than anything she’d been accustomed to at home, and on par with her room at Dragongrove, but if Lily insisted that there were nicer rooms then she was happy to explore and find them.
She sat up straight, up from where she leaned on her headboard, then fell back again, her head still foggy. Perhaps she would explore later.
“I should let you get a bit more rest,” Lily said. “But I think you’ll be in excellent shape by this evening.”
Mira smiled faintly as Lily rose to leave. She breezed out as easily as she’d drifted in.
Once the door was open she heard Lily’s faint voice. “Oh, hi Tarquin.”
The door was shut then, and Mira fell back onto her pillow. He was outside of her room. She wished he would come in.
He didn’t though, which was probably for the best, she thought to herself. He’d kissed her and it had thoroughly confused her and awoken something in her that she hadn’t known was there. But he hadn’t been particularly kind about it, and as she thought about him and the way he’d always stared so hatefully at her, but never acknowledged her otherwise, she was newly grateful that he hadn’t come in. She didn’t want him to.
She couldn’t forget his touch though, and as she tried to settle back into her bed all she could feel were his warm hands on her face and his hot breath on her neck. So she resolved to stand, slowly and on wobbling legs. If she could stand then she could walk, and if she could walk then she could explore the palace and find a room more suitable for herself.
She would have a new room, far from his, where he wouldn’t coincidentally be just outside of hers.
Mira moved slowly through the maze of abandoned rooms, pausing often to catch her breath. It was wonderful, though, sorting through so many choices and forgotten things.
Every female shifter had died without warning nearly nine years before, and it seemed that most of the belongings left behind had been stored in this particular wing of the palace. Mira adored each item she came across, and after contemplating a small locket for a moment she pocketed it. The owner was long dead, and besides, it was forgotten here. Surely it would see better use with a new owner who would treasure it.
She found a few things she liked as she moved from room to room, and before long she was no longer considering the rooms themselves but the things inside of them. She found a tea set with pink flowers and tiny blue buds that enchanted her; she didn’t take it with her, but she mentally noted where it was and promised herself that she’d come back for it later. By the afternoon she carried with her a pair of cream colored gloves, a silver ring with a large ruby set in the middle, and a tiny music box that played a song she faintly recognized.
When she entered the room at the end of the long corridor she’d been wandering down, she forgot to even check it for things she might like. They didn’t matter; the room was perfect. It was massive, which she didn’t particularly care about, but when she checked in the attached bathroom she found a huge marble soaking tub. The best feature, though, and the reason she needed it, was the door out to a small private balcony. When she stepped out onto it she was surprised at how high up she was— she hadn’t remembered climbing that many stairs— but that was also in the room’s favor. She could be out here and nobody would be able to see her.
The door was flanked by floor to ceiling windows that were covered by gauzy curtains, which were long enough to pool elegantly on the floor. The floor was white marble, the walls were light and cheerful, and the bed was huge, comfortable, and dusty. Everything in the room was covered in a fine layer of dust, and as she had no supplies for cleaning it she searched through the closet and found the least fine of the gowns hanging there. She used it to wipe everything down as well as she could, and by the time she was finished she was thoroughly exhausted.
She stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing and memorizing her new favorite view. The palace was surrounded by lush gardens and a small lake, but beyond that there wasn’t anything, really. Nothing beyond gently rolling hills and as much green as she’d ever cared to see.
That was where she was when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, and the suddenness of it sent her heart racing. Her heartbeat didn’t slow at all when she whirled around and saw who was behind her.
His fingers went to her chin and tilted her face up to him. When his lips pressed to hers it was gentle, almost sweet, but then their tongues tangled together, and the steady heat that hadn’t yet left Mira from their first kiss began to build again. His hands had remained on her face, the first time, but now they were everywhere. They were massive and warm, even through her gown, and when he gripped her by her lower back and pulled her closer to him, she couldn’t suppress the shudder that swept through her. She was mindful not to say his name, not to make any noise, since when she’d whispered it last time was when he’d ended the kiss. She moaned quietly, though, not in control of herself, and that didn’t seem to bother him at all.
His arm stayed around her back, but with his other hand he caressed along her jaw, and then her neck, and then her collarbones. She silently willed him to touch lower, to cup her breasts; she knew she wouldn’t stop him if he did. He didn’t, though, but splayed his hand wide over her exposed skin, his palm resting on the hollow at the base of her throat. His mouth left hers, and then his heated lips kissed down her jaw and then her neck, following the path his fingers had made. She wanted more— anything— but he didn’t seem willing to give her that, and at least she had the presence of mind to not rub desperately against him.
She looked down at him as his tongue traced along her collarbones, and found his eyes already on her face. His gaze was scorching; she knew right away that the image would be seared in her mind forever. His tongue dipping out to lick her bare skin, his eyes hot on hers. His hands were tight on her hips, gripping her roughly, and she thought without them she might fall over.
His tongue trailed over her chest one last time, and then he pulled away and stood to his full height, towering over her. His hands were still on her hips, and she couldn’t tear her gaze from his still-heated one.
He released her a second later, and she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed at the lack of contact or pleased to feel momentarily in control of herself again.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her brows furrowed, when her breathing had slowed and she could think again.
He shrugged. “You weren’t in your room.”
That wasn’t what she had meant at all, and she felt confident that he knew that. “This is my room,” she said, glaring up at him.
“You chose a room in a deserted wing populated solely by dead people’s belongings?” he asked, and then shook his head. “Of course you did.”
She wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but instead she crossed her new room and opened the door to the corridor, sweeping her arm out in a gesture for him to leave.
When she returned from breakfast the next morning, she found that someone had put a small table and chair on her balcony.