Page 103 of The Chains You Defy

“What are you doing here?”

Of course, there was no answer, but I squatted down and patted the tip of the tendril, which nudged my hand in return. Not that long ago, I’d compared the magical constructs to somewhat clingy pets and had presumed Dion was conjuring them to humor me, but after the last few weeks, I wasn’t too sure about the latter part.

Too often, the prince had worn a confused expression when he’d caught a glimpse of one or more of the shadow creatures, who owned surprisingly distinct traits—or more, this one had a personality. The others appeared to bemostly of one mind.

Oh, yes. I’d given up on feeling weird about considering them alive and sentient.

“Did he leave you here, or did you decide to stay on your own, hmm?”

Petting its soft head…tip…beak…whatever, the being purred and pushed itself against my hand. That was what I meant by personality. Needy, pesky, clingy, but protective, not unlike a certain fae male himself.

Maybe it needed a name. Squinting at the creature, which was coiling around my forearm as it swished, I shook my head. I wouldn’t lose my mind over a piece of magic, no matter how cute the result was.

A knock on the door startled me, but I relaxed almost instantly.

“Nayana, it is me. Please open the door.”

“Antas, good to see you. Come in. Oh, what’s all that?”

“Dion asked me to guarantee that your new garments reach you without trouble.”

“The tailor has already finished sewing? How’s that even possible?”

“Magic.”

Of course.

Huffing, I grabbed a crate and hauled it inside. Together, Antas and I moved more than a dozen wooden packages into the suite, each at least half my height.

Breathing hard, I leaned on one particularly big box and allowed my gaze to roam over the male. When we’d arrived in Alaiann, I hadn’t been able to inspect his true form.

Antas was tall, almost seven feet, if I had to take a guess, and his physique reminded me of a whip. Lean, lithe, and agile, without the bulk of his half-brother.

He looked me directly in the eye as I balked upon seeing his face—or rather, half of it. Because Antas was wearing a mask, covering parts of his features, made from some kind of thin, dark silver metal. The unassuming material concealed half of his forehead, his nose, a part of his lips, one pointed ear, and a good chunk of his chin. Even one eye was hidden. However, fine lines hinted at an opening mechanism somewhere.

His visible eye—deep emerald-colored—was facing me warily, and although my curiosity was almost killing me, I didn’t pry. Not instantly, at least.

“Will you stay for a while?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes, please. I spent the whole day alone, with only a magical construct as company.” Lifting my arm, I showed him the onyx tendril. It was purring as usual, but in a lower key, and I was almost certain that it was napping.

Antas’ good eyebrow rose. “Curious.”

“Indeed.”

Just as curious as that godsdamned mask.

Antas approached and extended his hand to the sleeping strand, but faster than lightning, half of it unfurled and pushed his arm away.

“It’s as territorial as Dion himself.”

“Has that happened before?”

“That his magic appears to act on its own? Hm, yes. On numerous occasions.”

A worried gleam materialized in his emerald eye, but he schooled his expression so fast that I wondered if I’d only imagined the hint of concern.