The Princess and the Warlock

Chapitre Quinze

My body felt like I'd just put it through a full-out sprint, limp and sore and hard to move. I moved my head to the side, feeling the soft pillow brushing against my cheek. I felt like I could just sink into the mattress and disappear, my body so heavy that I'd fall straight through the floor and keep going until I hit the core of the earth. I didn't even have the strength to open my eyes; they were screwed shut. I could stay in this state of in between for hours on end, just floating, feeling heavy, the world a symphony of silence.

But it was ended abruptly, like cymbals crashing together in a bang. The pressure of fingertips along my forehead had my eyes instantly flying open, immediately connecting with the strange blue-white ones that were above me. I gasped in a breath.

Kaius pulled his hand back, looking equally startled. "Good morning," he greeted in a voice that was rough from disuse, as if he hadn't spoken in a very long time. Those eyes were blinking down at me, still wide. "Or, afternoon, I suppose. I just came in to check on you—to see if you had a temperature or anything."

Despite last night, I couldn't stop myself from taking in detail after detail about him. He had his hair pulled back again, but he no longer looked as tired as he had the night before. His eyes were bright and his expression was clear, only slightly weighed down by something that looked vaguely like concern. "Why," I began, my voice low. My heart, waking up from its deep slumber, began to beat fast. "Might I have a temperature?"

"It's half past four," Kaius said with his eyebrows raised. "In the afternoon. Are you feeling ill, Amora?"

I sat up straight in the bed in an instant, my sheets and blankets falling to my waist and I was too surprised to clutch them back up. All that mattered was that my nightgown was still covering everything it needed to—modesty other than that could wait a moment. Because what he'd said— "Half past four? I slept that long?" Granted I didn't fall asleep for a long while—birds had begun chirping by the time I could finally get my eyes closed for more than a few moments. I had so much on my mind—Freesia put so much on my mind.

And now with him standing there and his focus on me, it was as if those thoughts had hidden themselves in my mind. I couldn't find the torrent of emotions and fears and nerves from the night before.

We each shared a beat of silence, and when I zoned back in from mine, I noticed Kaius wasn't speaking either. I lifted my eyes to his, finding him staring at me with such an intense look of something—something unreadable yet deep—that it surprised me. Could he sense everything that I was feeling? Did I have, like, residual emotions in my aura or something? Is that how that worked? He was speechless—hadn't even allowed myself to dwell on it yet! Dwell on his stupid actions and stupid intentions and stupid Tempest Stake. Definitely don't dwell on that. "What?" I demanded, pulling the sheets up to my chest, finally allowing myself to feel self-conscious. "What's wrong?"

Kaius cleared his throat and shifted on his feet, voice only a few tones up from a whisper. "Your hair."

Now my heart really lurched. My hair, after everything, slipped my mind. I reached up and touched it, feeling how wild and rucked it was from all the tossing and turning I'd done last night. My fingers tapered off at the shorter length. "I cut it," I said simply, but for some reason, those words were hard to get out. "Last night."

He stood there, at the edge of my bed, looking at me with such wide eyes. They weren't disappointed eyes or anything—he didn't look upset that I cut my hair—but they did hold a quality that I couldn't identify.

He reached a hand out to touch the chopped locks, fingers grazing them almost reverently. The sleeve of his jacket smelled almost like nighttime, dew and wind mingling together, a pleasant scent touching my senses. A shiver ticked its way down each of knob of my spine as he touched my hair. Self-consciousness bit at me, and I had this horrible desire to hear his opinion. "Do you hate it?"