Swords of Gilded Crimson

Chapter 71 | A History of Preferences |

Weydan swivelled back, snapping furiously to her. 'You saw what I saw in the forest. His shining, mauve eyes returned to me promptly. 'I'll bet he begged you not to come, but you were foolish enough to do so anyway.'

I swallowed, as difficult as it was with the steel of the chain digging into my neck. 'The troops from my legion you never received, I understand... but what has Nikolai ever done to you? He made you that ordeal of a vow to begin with-'

A manic laughter roared through him. 'Yes of course, the vow... Did he ever tell you why he made it other than Neve's precious approval?' Behind him, Neve bristled at the remark. 'He thought that a scant, wretched vow like that, would be enough for me to forgive him for killing my little brother. No, no, no, the story I heard was that he was so, infinitesimally drunk one night when my brother had been sent as a mere envoy to Luxandria during the peak of one of our rebellions, that over a little skirmish of theirs in the village, my brother was callously impaled with a sword the Luxandrian General never should've been brought out in the first place. Why ever would would I forgive him?'

I couldn't come to terms with the fact that Weydan talked of the same man who'd wanted to refrain from killing a few, mortal guards of the Manor House's courtyard, purely because it wasn't a battlefield.

But a little way behind, the shrewd smile bore by Neve, told me enough of how Weydan had been led to believe so.

'But how fitting should it be, that it is you who he chose to love?' Weydan bore a toothy grin as he balled up his fist and struck me in the stomach. Over the involuntary contortion, the chain stretched taut to the full length he'd allowed between me and the walls of the chamber. 'I wonder what would go through him, if I were to send you back battered, bruised, and thrashed? We're not allowed to compromise your wretched blood until the transfusion's done and over, but after that...'

He took a hold of my chin between his thumb and forefinger. '... After that, I can do with you as I will. Perhaps... perhaps I don't send you back to him at all?'

Neve stalked over to him, suddenly miffed at the threatening remarks. 'He doesn't. Love her.' She eyed me with a malicious stare. 'I know well what Nikolai's love looks like. What it feels like. This... whatever this is between you and him, is simply him looking for a way to quieten the civil conflict of the Day Court. He knows that where his armies fail him, you will compensate.' The sparse line of a patronising smile slipped back over her face. 'My word of advice Kalena, look out for yourself where you can.'

In any instance, I'd never believe a word from Neve's mouth, but the eerie similarity they shared with Kymil's reprimands, stung.

Then her eyes conducted a quick run up, and down, of my outward appearance. Taking a lock of my inky black curls that had tumbled forwards, she let it fall through her fingers, while adding with a slight scoff, 'Besides, you don't even fit his preferences. Ask anyone who's familiar with his history of lovers.'

To save any further cynicism over Nikolai's feelings, the main door of the testing chamber was thrust open once more. There, entered another fae, adorning the cyan blue gear of the Winter Court. One of Veyren's courtiers, I presumed.

Under an impassive visage, she had a plump, youthful face. Though the tone of her complexion was subdued like anyone else hailing from Winter, a certain rosiness ran along the ridges of her cheeks. An aspect that certainly wasn't to her liking, I could tell. Her hair, a flaxen grey, was aptly pulled back from her face in braids, and knotted at the back.

She cast an odd look at Neve and Weydan. 'You two haven't extracted her blood sample yet? You're supposed to be testing it against mine, by now.'