“My lady, you’re needed as well,” Faren said. “Please join us in the throne room once you’re ready.”
Paris covered the distance to the door in rapid strides, and they left without saying another word.
I rose and stretched. It felt like I’d been in battle for months. The soreness in my joints would take a few days to subside. I had never used so much of my power, not even in the wars of Olympus. I still felt the hum within me; the magic was always there, always strong.
I went to the colossal walk-in closet. The clothes in there were mostly crimson. I rolled my eyes as I ran my hands along the rows and rows of gowns and corsets. I didn’t want to remove Paris’s shirt but couldn’t wear that in front of his people. I pulled it over my head and buried my face in his smell, breathing deeply before setting it aside. My wounds had healed, and I’d been cleaned. Hopefully by Paris and not some stranger. The thought of him giving me a bath, lathering me up all over, made me lean against the shoe rack.
Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I continued perusing the clothes. Toward the back, I found a section of black items, thank the gods. I chose a black top, the back open in a crisscross pattern. There were no pants to be found anywhere, so I donned a black skirt with a hem that was far north of my knees. There were no flats, only high heels after high heels. I chose a random pair, but they fit well enough. My outfit was the best of the worst.
I continued through the closet into a marbled bathroom. A huge tub was sunken in the floor, and overhead were hooks. I didn’t want to know what the hooks were for, though I could guess. At one of the large mirrors, I chose a hairbrush from a tray and smoothed my hair, the yellow of my strands discordant against the backdrop of crimson and black. Sometimes, standing out was a good thing.
I left the king’s chambers and followed the sound of voices. The throne room was nearby. A table had been erected in the center, and Paris sat at the head with Shildreth and Faren on each side. A small contingent of Faren’s soldiers stood at each door, ready for any trouble.
“We’ve secured all ingresses. The portal is secured. Desmerada had it bewitched so that it only works as an exit. None can enter. We have guards on it at all times, just in case. The keep is ours. Most of the nobles fled into the Darkwood. The ones who stayed are locked in the dungeon. We have our emissaries going to the townspeople in the keep and making inquiries. All in all, they are relieved to be rid of Desmerada and are welcoming you with open arms. They have suffered under her reign, as have so many others.”
Paris stilled when he saw me enter the room and followed my every move like a predator.
Shildreth rose and opened her arms as I approached. I went to her and accepted a hug that almost squeezed the very last breath from my body.
“You’ve done it!”
I held Shildreth at arm’s length. “You have the strength of a bear, you know that?”
“You should see what she can do in private.” Faren laughed.
Shildreth swatted at him before patting the seat beside her for me.
Paris rubbed the five o’clock shadow on his face when I sat, his gaze going to my knees and farther up.
“Everything all right?” I asked and batted my lashes at him. I’d been sly in warfare, but this was a new battlefield for me. I rather liked it, especially when Paris’s fangs lengthened as he watched me.
Faren clapped him on his back and seemed to awaken him from his stupor. “Now, on to the particulars. We’ve managed to put out the blaze in the east wing.”
Paris tilted his chair, balancing on two rear legs and grinning at me. “Is that so? How did a fire start all the way on that side of the keep?”
“I’m not entirely sure, my lord. But the spymaster’s quarters were destroyed right along with him.”
Paris nodded. “Good riddance. Continue.”
“We have two more pressing issues. The first is Desmerada—”
“She lives?” I figured Faren would have destroyed her as the first order of business.
“For now.” Faren nodded. “It is for the king to decide her fate.”
Paris dropped his head back, as if he’d find the answer in the gaudy bath scene above their heads. “What should we do with her? Obviously, I want her dusted. Anyone have any reason why that shouldn’t happen?”
Shildreth and Faren were silent. Shildreth’s demeanor chilled, and a tremor went through her. Faren reached across the table and took her hand. They were both riding the high of taking the keep, but the ghost of their lost child no doubt lingered in their minds, a wound that could never heal.