Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 20
DOUBLE THE TROUBLE
Ian stopped in front of a door with two deer carved into its center and an unarmored guard posted on each side. He grinned at me. “I’ve chosen one of the best chambers in the palace for you, my dear. Your friends are stationed in the rooms beside it. You have only to open the doors between your suites to see them.”
“I’m to be locked inside?” I demanded, scanning the faces of the soldiers, seeing Jasher, and yet not. Not a strand of dark hair was out of place, and their sunset eyes lacked the sparkle of humor and hints of warmth I’d come to expect. Few had tattoos peeking out from beneath their clothing. “Made a prisoner?”
“Absolutely not,” the Guardian assured me. “They are here for your protection only. And if there’s anything you need, you have only to alert them. They will see to your every whim, as I would do if I were here.”
Okay. All right. “I’d prefer Jasher stand as my guard.”
“Of course. I’ll send him your way after he’s briefed me on his encounter with the very rebels now attempting to harm my people.” Ian lifted my hand and kissed the air above it, never pressing his lips against my skin. “We’ll pick up where we left off at breakfast.”
With a final, firm nod, he released me and strode from the hall. I faced the soldiers. Both stared straight ahead, giving total on-duty vibes. “Hello. What are your names?”
They didn’t speak or glance at me. Fine. I sighed, turned the knob, and entered the room. The door closed automatically with a soft snick. Oh, wow. My room was as spacious as the throne room, with three distinct zones. The sleeping area, a parlor, and a dining nook. Glorious furnishings filled each.
In the sleeping area, stringed lights hung from the ceiling, creating a canopy of stars around a massive bed flanked by two immense columns. Strips of fluffy white carpet stretched between two columns. The ends split into sections and coiled like the lollipop tree roots I’d noticed my first day. A vanity and its large oval mirror trimmed in gold flowers complimented a dresser and chaise lounge, also trimmed in gold.
In the parlor, a pink velvet couch paired with two recliners, one a creamy yellow, the other a rich lavender. They formed a half circle in front of a gold leaf coffee table, all resting atop a lovely blue rug. The pieces looked upon an ivory water fountain anchored to the wall. In its center, a full-scale woman wearing a gauzy dress held a basket from which the water flowed. I didn’t know the mechanics of Iris’s ability, but I prayed this wasn’t an access point for her.
My gaze returned to the coffee table, where a pad and pen rested. Don’t mind if I do. I strode over and flipped open the cover, finding the sketch of Jasher I’d made during our stay at the Wild West Inn. As I studied the image with fresh eyes, I noticed the tragic dignity I’d captured in his expression. The clawing need in his beautiful eyes. The uncertainty and hope in his bearing. How had I missed all this?
My kind.
Nothing special.
My hurt and anger dulled. No wonder he’d kept his origins a secret. It hadn’t been a matter of trust in me, but lack of confidence in himself. How refreshing it must have been to be seen as an individual rather than carbon copy. I wouldn’t have wanted to ruin such a dream come true, either.
My reaction to the news must have stung in a million different ways. I’d owed him so much better. When I had confessed about the chapel, he’d given me understanding and comfort I hadn’t deserved.
Now I wanted only to tell him I understood, I’d be forever grateful we met, I would desperately miss him, and when possible, I would do everything in my power to find a way back to him. If he’d have me.
Before I broke down and started crying, I dropped the pad and continued my visual tour of the room. In the dining nook, Patch and Leona sat at a round table with a tree-shaped base. Many different platters of food and several bottles of champagne covered the glass top. One bottle lay on its side, empty. Both women talked and laughed as they stuffed their faces, currently unaware of my entrance. It was nice, seeing them so relaxed and happy.
Behind them, a set of open double doors edged with voluminous, translucent curtains led to a terrace, allowing a cool, floral-tinged breeze to waft inside.
“Moriah! You’re here.” Leona motioned me over with great enthusiasm. “Come. Eat! In all my days, I’ve never tasted anything as delicious.”
Patch nodded her agreement, crumbs falling from the corners of her mouth.
My stomach issued a distinctive protest. “I’m not hungry.”