The Forgotten Crown

Chapter Thirty-One

Morana perched on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the iron bracelet. After Alastair had left and she gathered her thoughts, she had slipped out of the gown. It still laid gingerly over a sofa in her sitting room. She had bathed, stripping away all the makeup, concealing potion, the dye, and the bracelet. The bottom of the tub was likely stained permanently. Back to her old self, Morana now awaited the captain's return. She glanced down at the iron bracelet on her bedside table. The fire's light from the hearth danced in the emerald's reflections.

She pulled the hem of the chemise she wore down to the middle of her thighs. The last thing she wanted was to give Alastair the wrong idea. Though she had thoroughly loved kissing him and could not stop thinking about it as she prepped for bed, Morana told herself repeatedly that she would not do it again. Not until they had figured out their next move. Not until she was honest with him.

Gods, she had never held so much dread. She had been kidnapped, nearly eaten alive by a feral beast, and this was the worst thing she'd experienced? Would Alastair hate her for lying to him? The thought ached in her chest. It would devastate Lucien. She'd seen how he handled heartbreak. When she was only a teenager, a prestigious woman had led him on to get closer with Lydia. He drank himself in and out of the infirmary for weeks. Morana squeezed her hands together.

She flicked her eyes to the clock upon the mantle. Alastair would return soon. She sucked in a deep breath, willing her damn heart to settle.

A knock came from the sitting-room door.

Morana leaped to her feet, her heart skipping four beats at once. She grabbed a silk robe and wrapped it around her body as she hurried into the room. She stopped before the door, took one last breath, and said, "Come in."

The lock flicked, and then the door opened, revealing Alastair's handsome features. He didn't mirror her smile though as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Something was wrong.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice cracking.

Alastair surveyed the room. "Her Highness wishes to speak with you in private."

Morana's heart chipped at the sharpness in his tone. She swallowed. "Is everything all right?"

He finally met her eyes. They chilled her to the bone. He had never looked at her with such cruelty. "I don't know. She asked me to fetch you."

Her brows furrowed as she straightened. "I must change then."

She started for the armoire, but Alastair shook his head. "She was very adamant. We shouldn't leave her waiting." He removed his jacket and extended it to her. "Put this on."

Morana looked between his eyes and the jacket before she accepted it. She grabbed the sand-colored wig and placed it on her head and then moved to the mantle. She retrieved the concealing potion and sprayed her neck and chest before she slipped on the jacket. It was heavy and much too large for her slight frame, but it would do. She pulled on a pair of boots without looking at him. Had Ferryn scolded him? Did Warrick somehow figure out what had happened between them? Morana swallowed. She finally turned to face him as he opened the door.

She followed him into the hall, watching his movements as he locked the door behind them. He addressed his weary-looking guards before stepping past her. He didn't even look over his shoulder to ensure she was following. Morana wrapped her arms around herself.

Once they rounded a corner, out of earshot of her guards, she stepped next to him. "Have I upset you?"

He kept his gaze forward.

Her brows furrowed. "Alastair?"

"I'd rather not talk about it right now."

His words punched her in the gut. She peeled her eyes away from him. She ran through her mind for anything she might've said or done to upset him so much, but could think of nothing. That only left the worst possibility. Warrick had punished him. She scanned his body for any wounds, but could not find any.