Queen of Thieves

chapter 27

Alice couldn't sleep.

This wasn't unusual; she spent most nights drifting in and out of consciousness, dreaming of bloated, drowned faces and a girl with her smile, her canines sharp and bloodied. But it was typically the nightmares that woke her up. Tonight, however, she had woken up for another reason.

The screaming.

She winced, rolling on to her side. It was more of a muffled yelling, really — a string of incoherent words and groans — and it was coming from down the hall. She personally thought it was a miracle that the whole palace hadn't woken up by now; whoever it was, they had a good set of lungs on them.

The person gave another cry. Alice sighed, consulting the watch on her bedside table. Just past two o'clock in the morning.

Oh, blast it.

She wedged her feet into a pair of slippers, padding down the hall in her nightgown. The cries were coming from a door near the balcony. Not Cirdrissa, then, who slept closer to the staircase. She had no idea if it belonged to Des; Alice had deliberately avoided him as much as possible after his show at dinner. If this was his bedroom, then she was turning around immediately and letting him suffer.

Cautiously, she pushed open the door.

The room was illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the large window. She could make out a tangle of dark hair and bedsheets, and she blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Lamir was lying rigidly on his back, the veins in his neck bulging. He was bare-chested, other than the medallion that hung around his neck. His eyes were open, but even from a distance, she could tell that he wasn't seeing anything.

She shivered.

"Lamir?" she whispered.

He made a low, keening noise.

"Razik," she said hoarsely, drifting closer. "You're having a nightmare." Gingerly, she shook his bare shoulder. "Razik, you have to—"

She gasped.

Lamir moved like the crack of a whip; one moment, he was lying on the bed, and the next, he was pinning her against the wall. Alice kicked out frantically with her legs. His eyes were pitch black, and there was a frightening vacantness to them, as if he was staring straight through her. His collarbones gleamed with sweat.

"Eknobia," he growled.

"Alice," she choked, pulling desperately at his fingers. "Please, Lamir, it's Alice!"

He let go of her abruptly. She crumpled to her knees, sucking in painful lungfuls of air. He stood above her, stiff as a statue, his face hidden in shadow.

"Alice?"

"Yes," she gasped, massaging her throat. "You were having a nightmare. I—" She broke off abruptly, suddenly very aware that she was kneeling on his wooden floor in nothing but her white nightgown. She rose unsteadily to her feet. "Never mind. This was a mistake."

She turned to leave. Lamir caught her wrist.

"Wait."

She stopped, startled. Lamir's jaw was working, and he seemed to be fighting with himself. For a wild moment, Alice thought that he might ask her to stay, but he released her abruptly, as if her skin had scalded him.

"There will be bruises," he said instead. "On your neck."

It took Alice a beat to understand what he meant. "Don't worry," she said flatly. "I won't tell Des. Not about this." She paused, fiddling with the sleeve of her nightgown. "We're not speaking right now, anyway."