It isn’t me,I reason.I have never commanded tornadoes. I do not own gilded armor. I have never done battle on such a scale, never even witnessed one like that…
This is someone else.
It must be.
“So, the skylark found her way inside my cage after all.”
I practically jump out of my skin at the sound of Soren’s voice. Heart in my throat, I spin around in time to watch him strike a match. It flares in the dark as he lights the candelabra on the end table, illuminating the shadowy corner where he sits in one of the wingback chairs.
“Skies! How long have you been sitting there?”
“Since before you snuck in.”
I exhale, flustered. “You should’ve announced yourself!”
“Forgive me, I thought I was free to do as I liked in my own chambers.” A wry note fills his voice. “I will endeavor to make you more comfortable the next time you come snooping in places you were told to steer clear of.”
He has a point. I swallow down my embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I know you said this was the one place I was not meant to go, but—”
“Rhya. Relax. I’m teasing you.” He crosses toward me slowly. He is fully dressed for departure in obsidian breeches and a fitted tunic with carved stone buttons of the same shade. There is a beautiful silver-hilted sword sheathed across his back. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him carry a weapon of any kind; he usually relies on his power alone. But that may not be an option on this mission.
The thought makes my stomach clench with anxiety.
His strides are soundless, his voice nearly so. “What are you doing in here?”
“I was…” I shake my head to clear it. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought you might not be able to, either.”
He stops a handspan away. His eyes move from me to the mural and back, and a furrow appears between the dark slashes of his brows. “That, there, is the reason I did not want you in my chambers.”
“The mural?”
He nods, jaw tensing.
“Why?” My heart is pounding too fast from what I saw in the painting as well as his sudden proximity. “Why would you not want me to see a piece of art?”
“I knew it would upset you.”
“But…I don’t understand.”
“No?”
I suck in a quick breath. “It is not me. It cannot be.”
He simply stares at me, saying nothing.
“Soren—”
He cuts me off. “What are you really doing here? You did not come to discuss my artwork or to check if I was resting.”
My whole frame rocks back, startled by the sudden shift in topic. “I…I…”
“Rhya.” His eyes trace my features. “There is nothing you cannot tell me. Don’t you know that by now?”
My heart flips. I do know that. I think I do. Still, I cannot quite force out the words.
“What’s going on inside that beautiful head of yours?” he murmurs, leaning a shade closer, compressing all the air right out of my lungs. His mind brushes mine, inviting a mental connection, but he does not push past my barricades without permission.
“I could not feel you through the bond. Not at all,” I admit in a rush. “I was worried, all right? Earlier, you were so upset when you learned about Arwen…I wondered if you might…” My voice shakes; with effort, I steady it. “Because you were not here when it happened, I worried that perhaps…you blamed me.”