Page 49

Chapter 46

IRIS

“I had no idea how abysmal your old chambers were.” Aspen motioned to the massive, ornate door behind me. “These can be yours, if you’d like.”

I turned, reaching for the handle and revealing the spacious room beyond.

It was stunning.

A four-poster bed of white and silver stood at the center, draped in light blue satin that covered every inch. An intricate white quilt lay at the foot, spilling slightly over a silver tufted ottoman. The room was twice the size of my previous quarters in the palace, with an attached bathing chamber as large as the entire bottom floor of the apothecary to the right. To the left, a sitting room stretched out, its floor-to-ceiling windows framed by delicate winter vines trailing down the glass panes. Fresh flowers graced every surface—atop the bedside table and vanity, nestled into nooks and crannies along the bookshelf, scattered across the windowsill.

“I thought you might like this one,” Aspen said from behind me.

I stepped toward the enormous window, staring out over the grounds below.

“Where do you stay?” The words spilled out before I could think better of them.

“Oh,” he stammered. “I have my own quarters on the outskirts of the grounds.”

I nodded, picking up a book from the nightstand, needing something to do with my hands. The reckless drain of magic I’d indulged in at the Raven’s Grove had ended in a screaming match before I could burn much of it off, and my limbs still trembled with exhaustion.

“But I come here often,” Aspen added hastily. “I’m in the palace most days.”

I set the book down, turning to face him.

“Dinner?” he asked.

I dipped my head in agreement and started for the door, but before I could take a step, Aspen’s fingers closed gently around my forearm, guiding me to sit on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

“I’ll have it sent up. You need rest. We both do.”

We ate on the floor of my new room, devouring the heartiest meal either of us had enjoyed in weeks, stealing seconds, and thirds, and then the rest of Aspen’s thirds, before washing it down with far too much wine. I laughed harder than I had in months, flinging bread at Aspen in protest of his terrible taste in jokes. At some point, the room began to spin, my laughter bubbling over as Aspen’s features swayed with the motion.

“Up you go, Virlana,” he said, though it made no sense at all—because I was fairly certain I was already up. Or was I? Which way was up again?

His arms hooked under mine, and I giggled at the contact, squirming as the hair on his arms tickled my bare skin.

“Goddesses, Virlana,” he huffed as we moved, dancing along the shore. Or maybe we weren’t. Another laugh tore free, far louder than I expected.

“It’s time for bed.”

Smooth fabric washed over me, cool and soft. I was swimming in a sea of blue. I wriggled, testing my sea legs.

A face drifted into my ocean—a ship crowned with snow, twin stars of blue glinting against the waves. I grabbed hold of it, steadying it against the current. The storm would overtake it. I couldn’t let the storm ruin it.

Another laugh bubbled up as I squished the ship’s cheeks together, delighting in the way it looked.

“Beautiful,” I whispered.

It was the most beautiful vessel I had ever seen.

The ship shifted, morphed. Became a siren. One scaly hand reached out, brushing my hair from my forehead.

“Goodnight, Sunbeam,” it whispered, pressing a wet, slimy kiss to my brow.

Except the kiss wasn’t wet and slimy at all. It was soft. Warm.

I must have climbed onto a rock with the siren to bask in the sun, and now its warmth caressed my skin as I drifted in the glow.

The siren leapt from the rock, vanishing beneath the waves.

Leaving me alone to float.

Waves crested and fell, lulling the tide with each crest and fall.

I thought of the ship. Of the siren. One with blue eyes that twinkled in the dawn, the other with a crooked grin that made my heart clench.

The sea calmed. Not a single ripple remained.

Instinctively, I reached for the space between Aspen’s arm and chest, seeking the familiar place to nestle myself. But I found only silken sheets, and with them, clarity washed over me.

I drifted into a dreamless sleep, my last thought an acute awareness of how much I already missed falling asleep to the sound of soft snoring.