Page 67 of Tarnished Crown
I couldn’t help but take this rare chance to observe him without his constant scrutiny, to take in the tired set of his shoulders and the way the arrogance seemed to bleed from him now that no one else was around. Even his black hair was rumpled, like he had run his hands through it one too many times.
He stilled, sitting up a bit straighter.
“It’s not polite to stare, Lemmikki.”
So much for the absence of his scrutiny. I had so many questions scattered in my foggy brain, but somehow, I found myself commenting on the least important one.
“You have a cat,” I helpfully observed. My voice came out as a hoarse rasp, my throat still raw from screaming.
“The estate has a cat,” he corrected.
I craned my neck as far as it would go from my position on my stomach, hissing out a breath when pain seized me once again. It was worth it when my gaze landed on a small pallet and an earthenware bowl on the floor.
“So that water bowl is for you, then.”
“You really shouldn’t waste your strength on talking,” Evander said dryly.
I didn’t want to think about my strength, or lack thereof, though. The cat in question hopped up into the bed like it owned the place, shooting me a suspicious glance.
“Oh, look. Theestatecat seems to be quite at home in your bed.” I tried for a casual tone, but the words came out gritted between my teeth as a spasm hit my lower back. “Speaking of which, why amIin your bed?”
At least, I assumed this was his room. It felt like his room.
My thoughts were confirmed when he didn’t argue.
“I have to keep you close, seeing as you’re an escape risk now.” There was a false note to his words, like even he didn’t believe what he was saying.
“Right. Lest I go running off at any moment.” The sarcasm fell flat when my voice broke on the wordrunning,because I wasn’t sure if I could even turn over, let alone run.
I was in the land of my enemies, completely vulnerable. Even though Evander had already seen me at my absolute lowest, I still desperately hoped he chalked it up to my ravaged throat.
A beat of silence passed between us, long enough for me to wonder why I had argued at all. The truth was, I wasn’t sure I could bear the thought of being alone in my room this way.
When a fresh wave of agony assaulted me, I sucked in a breath and buried my face in the pillows.
The sound of Evander’s chair scraping across the floor rang out in the silence, followed by footsteps drawing closer.
“Injuries like this--lash wounds--are rarely as bad as they feel.” How would he know? “I’m sure you’ll be back to scaling balconies in no time.”
I tilted my head in the other direction to face him.
He plucked a vial from the nightstand and uncorked it before pressing it into my hand. “For the pain.”
“What about Yuriy?” I asked, lifting the vial awkwardly to the side of my lips and swallowing the contents with a grimace. It wasn’t nearly as bad as Aunt Clara’s tonics, but it was plenty disgusting. “Is he?”
“He’s fine,” Evander answered. “He’s the one who came to get me.”
And Evander had then come to get me. Why?
I didn’t have the energy to ask him, to try to make sense of whatever half-truth he would give me.
He took the empty vial from my rapidly numbing fingers and set it on the table before heading back to his chair.
“Are you sleeping there?” I asked.
“I have work to do,” he said quietly.
I sucked in another breath, and I told myself it was from the pain, not the blind panic that overtook me at the thought of being alone in this room. Evander assessed the expression I was too exhausted to hide, then gestured toward his desk.