Page 39 of The Chains You Defy

Thain met my gaze for a second, and I sent him a silent warning. If he hurt my best friend, I’d join Dion in his vendetta against him, and I made sure he received my unspoken message.

Rewi must have noticed my expression as well, and her lips twitched as she shook her head, her universal sign to me that I had no reason to worry. For her sake—and Thain’s—I hoped she was right.

“Your friend here is a great wingwoman, Nayana.” The redhead flashed a bright grin at me. “You won’t believe how many interesting people there are here at court. And everyone is so friendly. No one’s afraid; it’s such a delightful reversal from how it is at home.”

“And his goal ismeetingas many as possible,” Rewi added.

Bryon, Ireas, and I groaned simultaneously. “Let’s change the topic. There’s no scenario in which I need to hear more about Thainmeetinganyone.”

Everyone, even the redhead, laughed, and the mood stayed light. From time to time, I picked up another piece of food from my plate and ate my way through my breakfast like this.

As I finished the last slice of apple, the suite door opened again, and Dion, in all his glory, appeared in the frame. He stopped mid-walk as he spotted us sitting at the table, laughing and talking. His nostrils flared, and then his nose wrinkled, followed by his face morphing into one of his scowls that could kill by looks alone. His Royal Bastardness was displeased—I noticed how his eyes roamed from me to Bryon and Thain, who had sandwiched me between them, with only a bristling strand of magic as my chaperon. No matter how seriously the latter took its duty as a buffer, the prince stilldisapproved of this arrangement. In the end, however, that was his problem, not mine.

Just as I’d decided not to grant the newcomer any more of my attention, I caught a movement from the corner of my eye—Rewi was getting up.

“Let’s go, boys,” she said and ushered Thain, Bryon, and Ireas to stand as well.

The latter protested. “I have to examine—”

“You can return later.” My friend was strict, and I wanted to object. If everyone folded to Dion’s every whim like this, I shouldn’t be surprised that he was such a dictator.

Before I could intervene, though, Rewi threw me one of her silencing glares that never failed to shut me up. Instead, I sighed and silently observed all four hurrying out of the room, past Dion, who studied the whole scene still as a statue with his head tipped to one side. Only a muscle in his cheek ticked, a warning sign I gladly ignored, but everyone else didn’t.

“Great. That was—fun.” I made a show of stacking my empty breakfast dishes neatly back on the tray before I got up and glowered at Dion. “Do you enjoy the effect you have on people? That you can clear a room just by existing?” I was irritated, and the situation didn’t require a mind reader for me to notice that Dion was too.

“I didn’t say anything, did I?” He stared at me, which was an improvement from the scowl he’d worn before the others had vacated the room. Finally, he regained his ability to move and entered the suite, closing the door behind him.

My forehead wrinkled as I observed him prowling to a chaise and fluffing some pillows.

Dion took his time, his face full of concentration as if his task were most important. After he’d finished his endeavor to his satisfaction, he caught my gaze, expectation clearly visible on his stupidly handsome face. When I didn’t react, he directed his eyes to the pillows and then back at me before repeating the motion.

Although I huffed and raised an eyebrow, grumbling something about fussing fae, I sauntered over to the chaise. Knowing Dion, if I didn’t settle down in the nest he’d arranged and fast, his next step would involve grabbing and placing me where he wanted me to be.

So I spared myself the humiliation of being hauled around like a rag doll—where I’d sit was hardly a topic worth fighting over—lowered myself down, and admittedly, what he’d built was pretty comfortable. But when the mothering prince tried to wrap a blanket around me, I protested. “Stop, I’m warm enough.”

The ticking muscle in Dion’s jaw returned to action, and his nose wrinkled again in disgust. At least, he dropped the blanket and instead folded his huge body next to me on the chaise. His behavior wasn’t out of the ordinary for him, but still I could tell—maybe from the way his hands never stilled—that he was nervous.

“You can quit worrying. I’m a lot better,” I felt compelled to say.

My words were met with awkward silence, and though I wanted to be patient, Dion gave me a hard time.

Finally, he answered me.

“That bastard almost killed you.”

“But I’m alive. That’s what counts, doesn’t it?”

Dion fell silent once more, but this time, he scanned me contemplatively from head to toe, his scrutiny so intense my throat constricted. Not good.

His expression told me everything—he craved to discuss what had happened in Amalach.

Dion obviously didn’t have any idea how to start. Neither had I, so I grabbed for the only crutch I could think of—self-deprecating humor.

“Although I did my best to rectify that when I broke my promise.” Gods, that had come out less humorous than I’d imagined, and of course, Dion wasn’t amused at all, at least if I read his scowl correctly.

“Not funny.”

“Sorry.”