A Song in the Night (TEMPTED KINGDOM: The Series Book 1)

by Jessa Lucas

Tell me, I’d wanted to say, that the hope Sy preaches is not just an unworthy idol.

  When she didn’t answer at first, I blinked my eyes open to see the corner of her lips curled up in a smile. “Treacherous were the Grimms and their legendary ways, their dreams were tools of deception, their ‘scapes meant a maze,” she said. “Just because the answer seems unseeable, does not mean with despair the truth is agreeable. Clever I have thought you, lady, and this your careful scheme. Hopeful on your behalf I remain, no matter how dire now it may seem.”

  There was that fucking word again. Hope. It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but damn was everyone ready to serve it up to me on a silver platter.

  My lids weighed heavily with the prospect of sleep, but my song had both drained and roused me; I was afraid it had awakened a nightmare all over again, and yet I longed to sing more of it. I held it back, wound tightly in my throat.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, any other fears I might bring peace to?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said wearily, “tomorrow I’m sure I’ll have more questions. But right now can you just sing to me?”

  “To this I can gladly agree. Now, child, let your nightmares flee,” she said, the soothing touch of her voice a comforting grip on my mind. I laid my head against my arms and let my lids fall.

  “Once in a land unnamed, lost long long ago

  Where mountains kissed the sky, peaks capped in snow...”

  The images danced around in the black of my closed eyes, familiar. Some remnant of a world I’d known, if only in façade. A world without me, and long before me. A world that could only be returned to in dream.

  “Hush now dear child, for this time is now but myth

  Our lands have been numbered the First to the Fifth

  And though I might sing still of an age long gone by

  The sun is rising steadily outside in the sky

  Night comes to a close like the end of a book

  Which told of a place lost when it quaked and it shook

  So still now your fears and quiet your great woes

  Close your eyes and sleep, for time, it ever goes...”

  The song must’ve trailed off at some point, for that tranquil vague quality of lost consciousness swept over my mind and her song was lost to my ears. I was sure I would dream of Earth, but all I registered beneath closed lids was black, and the rise and fall of footsteps carrying me through a silent dawn.

  I woke once, the top arc of the sun just barely peeking out between the mountains and sending shattered rays out into an obliterated night. I blinked my eyes a few times before realizing my head rested on a pillow and not on the stone ledge of the fountain.

  I turned away from the window and, blinking a few more times just to make absolutely sure it wasn’t a dream, I saw Gilles slouched in the big armchair by my bed. His eyes flickered a few times under his lids, his breathing slow and intentional as breathing is in sleep. Looking at him made me uncomfortable as I thought about how uncomfortable he must be, and as both his presence and my care dawned on me, I smiled to myself and took a deep breath, sliding readily back into the arms of a dreamless slumber I wasn’t ready to escape.

  When I woke again at midday, the sun was quickly approaching its highest point in the sky, and Gilles was gone.

  Chapter 12

  The Princess and the Glass…blower

  My room was dark when I returned to it from dinner. A dinner in which Jude had yet again refused to grace us with his presence. I was worried I’d made him ill somehow; perhaps in this world immunity had side effects. What if Jude, too, had felt the tingling brought on by our touch, and it’d done something irreparable to him? I wanted to check on him, but the others were persistent in their assurance that he was fine. Besides, I couldn’t exactly afford to lure out the siren again by making Jude’s presence her bait.

  I stood in the darkness a moment contemplating this when the distinct feeling of eyes on me crawled up my spine. I heard a breath behind me and flinched at the strike of a match.

  “You’ve got to stop jumping, Princess.”

  I sighed, irritated. “Maybe you could knock next time, Gilles.”

  “Maybe you could learn to be more attentive. It’s a useful skill in life and war.”

  I scowled. “Well I guess you’ll have the benefit of teaching me those exact skills very soon.”

  He’d put me off this morning on account of ‘those sizable bags’ underneath my eyes, but after sharing a strange look in which he seemed to know that I knew that neither of us had gotten undisturbed sleep last night, the matter was dismissed.

  Gilles set the wick of one candle to another and it sizzled, quickly exploding into flame where the two kissed and gilding his skin in a warm bath of fluctuating light. The taunt of that perpetual smirk lurked underneath his expression, much to my annoyance.

  “Can’t wait.”

  “Oh, I know,” I folded my arms, shifting my weight to a single foot. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

  He eyed me as he moved to the candle by my bathing room and I pivoted to watch him, the darkness steadily loosing ground as the candlelight washed across the room. Gilles finally sighed and shook his head at me in disdain.

  “What?” I accused. “Why do you hate me so much, Gilles?”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  I tried to figure out what that sound was in his voice when he said it. It wasn’t his typical indignation, but it also wasn’t shock that’d I’d dared to ask the question.

  “Are you sure? Cause it feels like from the second I opened my eyes, you’ve made it your life’s mission to irritate me.”

  Easy there, Princess. Those cocky first words to me, immediately followed by his declaration that my powers of seduction were null and void.

  “I do believe those are two different things,” Gilles said, that cocky smile making a grand reappearance as light dashed across his face and quickly retreated as he lowered the candle.

  “Hating me and occupying yourself by irritating me feel like the same thing on my end.”

  “If I hated you,” Gilles said, the final candle breaking into light before he turned back to me, “you wouldn’t have the slightest clue. I can promise that.”

  “I’m totally reassured.”

  Gilles almost laughed. I saw it, the want for laughter in his eyes. But thanks to whatever rules of arrogance he adhered to, the relief of a smile passing across his face was not gifted to me. I hated that I wanted to see it. When Gilles smiled, really smiled— in those small lapses at meals or mid-joke with the other men— moments it was easy for him to forget that I was there— it would break across his face with such sudden ease, dorky enough to almost be endearing.

  It was really too bad about his personality.

  I had a passing vision of myself from his eyes: the indignant princess who had no idea who she was and no problem bossing him around in spite of it. It was unfair, especially after wasting a whole lifetime watching her sleep. And for a short-lived moment, I felt sorry for Gilles. Which is probably why I said, “You were right.”

  I straightened my spine, trying to look worthy of a throne. If I was about to fess up to a weakness, I’d at least do it with dignity. “I overheard that whole talk with Sy, and it’s true Gilles. As long as I’m weak, I’m no good to anyone. I have to earn my strength, and I intend to. So you’re going to help me. Like it or not,” I added, just for good measure.

  “I like it,” he said, folding his arms into each other and leaning up against the wall, infuriating me with that messy hair and squared jaw that were all too easily romanticized in the damned candlelight.

  “Good,” I stammered, unsure how to respond to his approval. “Anyway. Isn’t there some kind of magic to do this? Light all these candles, I mean.”

  “The Tower of Abduult didn’t come built in with every sort of magic that your palace in Lithron has, Princess. Besides, it gives me something to do with my hands.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “A
s if you haven’t already discovered how to use your hands while stuck indefinitely in a tower with no female companionship.”

  “The Reflection is female.”

  “You’d sooner get off to your own reflection than hers.”

  Gilles snorted, amused. “And how are you holding up with that same problem? Surely it must be boring to live in a tower full of men you can’t entice.”

  “On the contrary, it makes it things far more interesting. It’s nice to have to work for things every once in a while.”

  “And yet, I am not entirely convinced that your efforts have been particularly rewarding.” His look was so intentional that it even the confidence of my snark-hurling expertise was momentarily deterred.

  I wanted to defend myself against the judgement I sensed, but how could I even begin to explain that getting hot and heavy with Jude had a purpose beyond, like, exclusively serving my sexual appetite? I mean, couldn’t tell that to a dude. Especially not when I felt guilty because I’d enjoyed it up until that horrific plot twist.

  But Gilles kept halfheartedly glaring over at me in the candlelight and I finally snapped. “What, are you jealous?” I retorted, instantly cringing at the level of preteen comeback game I’d just shown myself capable of.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Princess.”

  Of all my watchmen, Gilles alone had the uncanny ability to actually remind me how powerless I was. The friction between us sparked the fire of our ruin; his presence always came with the full blow of a sobering truth— that there was no guarantee I could make any of these men bend to my will, and subsequently give me answers. The only tools at my disposal were try-hard authority and a semi-radiant personality, and on that last front I was probably only slightly less of a work-in-progress than Gilles.

  I stood awkwardly as he turned suddenly to the wardrobe and opened it, withdrawing a frothy pink gown that I’d shoved to the very back. I crinkled my nose as he held it in front of himself in mock admiration.

  “I want you to wear this.”

  “We don’t have enough of a relationship, Gilles, for me to care much about what you want.”

  “C’mon.”

  “What the hell makes you think I would give a damn about your opinion?”

  “It’s kind of nice,” he plucked the tulle a bit.

  “Then you wear it. You can prance down to breakfast in it tomorrow, and we’ll all hold up signs. One to ten, how well do you think Gilles wore the Pepto-Bismal gown?”

  “Pepto-what?”

  I shook my head. “Let’s just say that gown definitely doesn’t help an upset stomach.”

  “It would look good on you. With all your curves and...” Gilles raised his hand to gesture in the general direction of my entire body, “all that.”

  “A real silver tongue you’ve got on you there.”

  “I bet this dress spins nicely. That’ll come in handy for the ball tomorrow night.”

  “Excuse me. Ball?”

  “Princesses like balls, right?”

  I shrugged, honestly not knowing the first thing about what princesses liked. “Probably not the same ones that you want them to.”

  “I hope they do.” He smiled lazily and I got the double meaning before he dropped the pretense. “You used to enjoy dancing. On the ship.”

  I raised my eyebrows, silently simmering with frustration that I couldn’t speak to something I didn’t know about myself. Gilles smirked at my aggravation as I snatched the gown from his hand. “Like hell you’re going— to tell me— what to wear— especially when it’s pink!”

  “You’ll wear it or—”

  “Or what, Gilles? I’ll lose all my powers? I’ll be stuck in a goddamn tower forever? I’ll die?”

  He shrugged. “The other suggestion I had was to wear nothing.”

  Heat shot up through my body, making a brief pit stop at my lady parts before settling as a bright flush on my cheeks. “Seriously, what’s your deal Gilles? Have you always been like this, or has being stuck here really put a stick up your ass?”

  “Would have to say that Abduult did it. Before I got here, you would’ve called me Prince Charming.” I squinted at him, unsure how to interpret this obvious jibe at Jude. “You fell in love with me on that ship, you know.”

  “Did I?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “Irrevocably,” he said flatly. He shrugged in that casual way that made it impossible to know whether he was yanking my chains or admitting the truth with a cruel indifference.

  I returned the gown to the wardrobe and sauntered to him, planting a palm against his cheek. I tried to ignore the trembles against my skin and the sudden urge to stroke my fingers along his clean shaven face. “I would fall in love with you in an instant,” I said quietly, “if you weren’t such an enormous fucking dick.”

  I could feel his body heat radiate through the air between us and quickly moved my hand away from his face before the touch manifested in unwelcome memories, reluctantly remembering the feeling of that chiseled jaw underneath my palm.

  “Anyway, we’re at war. We don’t have time for a ball,” I said matter-of-factly, putting a hand on my hip.

  “You’ve had time to sleep, and seduce, and enjoy a luxurious bath. Occasionally even some of those things at the same time.”

  “Well, that’s called multitasking and it’s a great time saver.”

  Off my side-eyed glare, Gilles said, “We don’t keep secrets.” The smirk had finally made it to his eyes. “Consider the ball a reward for surviving tomorrow. If you do, that is.”

  In an entirely too mom-like move, I folded my arms and scowled at him. “Get out, Gilles.”

  He grinned and slipped out. “See you bright and early, Princess.”

  I was rudely awakened the next morning by Gilles, bent down in my face.

  “The sun isn’t even up,” I grumbled.

  “Oh, do you have a problem with training after all?”

  “I have no problem with training,” I managed, “but I also have no problem saying that I’d much prefer to punch you in the face right now.”

  “C’mon, Princess,” Gilles said, putting his hands on me to pull me out of bed. If I hadn’t been half asleep, I would’ve been positively shocked that he was willing to touch me. My feet dragged across the floor with reluctance as I moved to my wardrobe, pulling out some leather pants and a tunic.

  “I’m going to change,” I turned to Gilles, looking at him warily.

  He folded his arms. “How do I know if I walk out you won’t just go back to bed?”

  “Fine, stay,” I retorted, hiding my face as my nose crinkled up in annoyance.

  How’d he know.

  Maybe Gilles bothered to look away while I stripped, but frankly I was too tired to make a show of it. Caught under more aware circumstances, I certainly would’ve used this to my advantage. As it was it was, this was bound to be a rough day, if not a sobering one.

  I found my thoughts lingering slothfully on Dash. It was almost guaranteed that had I been stripping in front of him in this barely lucid state, I wouldn’t be walking out the door to go elsewhere and wield a weapon. He’d be wielding his own against me.

  How we’d managed bath time with long, piercing stares as the only form of penetration, I’d never know. Sigh.

  Stuffing thoughts of Dash into a secret compartment of my mind, I trudged off after Gilles as he led me through the winding halls of the tower into yet another room I’d never been in.

  “Where are we?” I muttered, voice still thick with sleep.

  “This is the Great Hall.”

  “Where more dignified people would eat.”

  “Where a fully inhabited tower would eat, but as it is we are only five. Six, now,” he inclined his head at me, and I couldn’t tell whether or not it was reluctance I’d heard in his voice. “We made it into a makeshift training area. It was the only chamber large enough to accommodate for our various skills, that was close enough...”

  He trailed off and I looked ov
er at him, realizing how exhausted he looked himself as he wrapped an arm guard around his wrist. He reached for my wrist and pinpricks tingled under my skin as he his hand brushed mine. He held up my arm and bound the leather guard around it.

  “Close enough to what?” I pressed.

  “You.” He pulled a glove onto his other hand and tossed one to me.

  I folded my arms. “So you all trained, even when I was asleep in my pseudo-tomb?”

  Gilles snorted. “As you get older, you’ve got to train even harder.”

  “None of us look old,” I mused.

  “Well, rest assured that those of us who actually lived all those years feel them.”

  The comment stung. I was the one who’d been unaware of the years passing over my mind, meanwhile these men had felt ever damned second. I became acutely aware, yet again, of just how much a thorn in Gilles’ side I was.

  “Alright, let’s get on with this,” I sighed, not able to drudge up the energy which usually defeated such despairing emotions with easy access to my armory of sarcasm.

  Gilles led me past various training areas until we were near the back of the room where targets lined the wall. The stars were still blinking down at us from beyond the large line of windows on either side of the hall. I liked to think they were doing so in judgement, accusing us of being awake far sooner than was acceptable.

  Gilles pulled a bow from the wall and nocked an arrow, unfortunately taking a really hot posture. He aimed for a breath and then the arrow went soaring from his bow, burrowing right into its intended target.

  “That was like two hundred yards!” I gasped.

  “Yes. I’m good.”

  “And modest, apparently.”

  “I’m showing you this so that you have something to aspire to.”

  “Super modest,” I amended under my breath.

  “Here,” Gilles said, handing me the bow. We moved forward to a (barely) more reasonable distance from the target. “Today I’m going to teach you how to shoot, but there are some other exercises you’ll need to be doing in order to gain the full potential of your strength.”