Page 45 of The Chains You Defy

“Yes.”

Fucking one-word answers. Not that fun when I was on the receiving end. “I despise you sometimes, Uncle. Alright. What if I’m only compelled to return to court because I’m used to listening to Galrach?” Shame burned like acid in my guts, and a muscle in my cheek ticked. “And I loathe to lead Nayana into even more danger.”

“Have you spoken to her about it?”

“Not yet.”

“Let me guess, you assume she will blindly follow you into whatever situation you drag us into?”

Fuck, yes. That was exactly what I supposed. Antas’ eyebrow arched as he gave me one of his special looks reserved only for me, which bordered on condescension.

“Where will I blindly follow?”

My head spun around as Nayana entered the living room of our suite. She was wearing her favorite turquoise fae dress once more, and her blond hair was slightly damp. Her cerulean eyes darkened and narrowed at me with suspicion.

The question she’d hurled at me became secondary. There were two more important issues at hand. How had she lost the minor Glamour I’d placed over the colors adorning her skin under her collarbone? Had that happened when I’d dropped mine the last time? And—had Antas seen?

So, I shot up and stalked to her, disrupting the line of sight between my uncle and her with my body. As I moved past her into the bedroom, I’d already pulled out the small bauble I’d extracted from Ireas some time ago—that he was able to store Glamour magic in little glass orbs for others to use was more than convenient—reapplied the illusion, and, satisfied with her unmarked skin, I left her standing, concentrating on rummaging through a drawer until I found what I’d searched for.

Even if there was only bare skin where moments ago her incomplete Enamcoharta had been visible, there was too much nakedness on show, considering we weren’t alone. Growling under my breath, I returned to the sitting room and wrapped the cover-up around her shoulders, hiding the plunging neckline of her dress. “Better.”

“Dion. What the—”

My glower shut her up. If only that would also work on Antas, but no, my uncle’s chuckle didn’t cease.

Naya rolled her eyes, as she always did when she acknowledged a battle she couldn’t win, before showing me her relentless, stubborn side again. “What decision?”

Damn, I wanted her to give up on that fight as well. “I haven’t made one yet.”

“About?”

“What to do.”

“Can you be any more vague?”

“I could most definitely try.”

“Princeling. Stop that, or I’ll wrestle that answer out of you.” She flexed her hands in a gesture meant to impress me, but in reality, her threat was adorably cute. Just like the small huff she created as her eyes darted from me to Antas.

The chair she picked during her attempt to hypnotize my uncle was much too far away from me, but I allowed her to keep a distance for now.

“When you were—taken, I got another letter from the High King.”

“Your grandfather, the fae king. Yes, you’ve mentioned that, but not what he wrote.”

“Mmh. He ordered us to return to Alaiann three nights before winter solstice at the latest.”

“That’s in a week.”

“Yes. He plans to hold a ball to parade our—or, as he stated, my—binding. And only the gods can tell what other nefarious intentions he has.”

“Oh. Wait, Dion. When you said ‘us’, you’re including me as well?”

“Of course.”

My mind blanked for a moment as I observed Nayana chewing on her lower lip, mulling over the implications. Her mouth was the center of my undivided attention, and the irrational idea of replacing her teeth with my own first intrigued, then irritated me. Straightening my head again, I dragged my eyes away from her and checked on Antas, who simply monitored our interaction.

“So the decision is if you listen to your grandfather or not?”