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

by Jessa Lucas

  “Okay,” I said gruffly, not wanting to confess how much like torture that sounded.

  “First of all, turn the bow around...” he drawled and I fumbled with it until it looked somewhat right. I held it up a bit helplessly. “Which is your dominant hand?”

  I held up my right hand.

  “Put it in your left, then. Your fist should make a 45 degree angle around it... yes, like that.”

  “This thing’s bigger than I thought it’d be,” I managed.

  “Your body will get used to it.”

  I slid my eyes to him. “I meant the bow. Obviously.” He didn’t meet my gaze, but he was definitely smirking.

  “Legs spread,” he said, “feet shoulder-length apart.” Gilles stuck a foot between my shoes, pushing my legs wider. I stared at him, wondering when he’d bother making eye contact with me, especially with his leg firmly planted between my thighs. “Square your stance while we’re starting off. Hold your arm long,” he said, passing me an arrow.

  I followed his instructions, silently bemoaning every act of obedience to him.

  “Cant the bow slightly, yes... now nock the arrow underneath this point so it doesn’t slide up. Your fingers spread like this...”

  Gilles took my hand into his, separating my fingers out so that the end of the arrow was between the knuckles of my pointer and middle fingers.

  A monotone engine—

  A blurred skyline—

  The flashes pulsed. Gilles was kind of mindlessly cradling my body now as he rearranged it for his purposes, and I couldn’t tell if the mechanical way he maneuvered me was because he preferred not to think about our physical closeness, or because it really didn’t affect him at all. Meanwhile, my body was having a thrilling time in such close proximity to Gilles, despite how much I resented myself for it.

  A book, heavy in my lap—

  A head on my shoulder—

  Sera—

  Something snagged inside me, like a hook in the thread of a memory. Sera. I remembered being called that.

  “Set the shaft of the arrow on that shelf there,” he said, letting go of my hand, and the sensation brought on by his touch fell away almost instantaneously.

  “Shaft?” I couldn’t help myself. It was too easy.

  “Don’t get carried away in that mind of yours, Princess.”

  Fine, then.

  “Let’s find an anchor point for you...”

  Gilles studied my face and I reeled back, wondering why he was looking at me with such intensity. He touched a finger to the corner of my mouth. “Here. When you pull back, I want your fist here.”

  He guided my right elbow back for me until my knuckles brushed against the spot on my face he’d been touching moments ago. He was close enough that his breath whipped across my face.

  “Release,” he breathed.

  I did, loosening a breath myself as the arrow sung in a beautiful arc, finally clattering to the floor just short of the target.

  “Not bad,” Gilles said, the corners of his mouth twerking up.

  “And the sun’s not even up yet,” I raised my eyebrows at him, feeling more than a little cocky.

  We carried on like that for most of the day, with only short breaks for meals. It was a miracle with all the ‘releasing’ I was being told to do that I didn’t seek a release of any other kind. I had to admit I was pleased with how much I’d advanced in a matter of hours; between dawn and dusk I’d managed to grow both my range and accuracy significantly... even if my skills were still at the level of an eight year old summer camp attendee.

  Every time the sound of road intruded on my mind or the weight of books fell heavily onto my lap— every time something from my world— came blundering into my consciousness, I swallowed it back and refocused on my target.

  By the time the stars had returned to the sky outside the Great Hall’s windows, my sore body was more than ready for the comforts of bed again.

  “Is it just me, or is the learning curve pretty small on this?” I asked, poised to take one of my last shots for the night.

  I could tell Gilles didn’t want to be overly praiseworthy as I nocked my arrow and prepared my stance, but he did concede, “I taught you a lot of this on the ship. You’ve always been a quick learner. One more set after this.”

  “But I had even more of a knack for ‘the blade’, apparently.” I raised my eyebrows in question, watching him out of my peripheral as I steadied my gaze on the target ahead. “God, I must’ve been such a badass.”

  He didn’t react as the arrow arced up and over, sinking into the outskirts of the target. It surprised me, that Gilles and I had been close enough once for him to teach me the nuances of his craft before deadly stakes ever required it. I’d never say it out loud (let alone to his face) but Gilles was a proficient teacher. The way he negotiated my body as he rearranged my limbs and perfected my poses definitely felt like a practiced action between us.

  “Have we always bickered like this?” My posture loosened as I lowered my arms and gazed over my shoulder at him.

  He said with a wry smile, “If you’re asking whether or not you’ve always been stubborn as an ass, the answer is yes.”

  “And have you always been a pain in mine?”

  We exchanged amused looks for half a second— exactly long enough for me to worry that we were bonding. I escaped to fetch the fired arrows, grabbing three from the ground and the two which I’d managed to lodge into the target.

  “Well,” I sighed, regaining my stance, “if you learned to like me last time, maybe we’ll get through it this time.”

  “Perhaps. Core,” he repeated for the fifth time in the last hour, abruptly bracing my stomach and lower back between his hands.

  “Okay, okay,” I muttered, my breath sailing across his face. I stared up at those eyes a moment longer than I should have— they read a beautiful green today. I shrugged Gilles off of me. The arrow flew, sputtered, and took a sudden nosedive into the floor.

  Hate— unfortunately— could be such a turn on. Thank god the lords of this tower had obviously kept some modestly dressed wives, according to the dismally limited options in my wardrobe.

  “You’re from my city. Lithron, was it?” I tried to keep it casual, but the truth was I was curious about Gilles.

  “Lithron, yes.”

  “And you were a glass... maker?”

  “Glassmith, glassblower. Either works.”

  Blower. Note taken.

  He eyed me as though he was suspicious he was about to endure a game of Twenty Questions with me.

  “What did you... blow?” I coughed. “Besides coffins, I mean.”

  “It was a family business. We were only ever commissioned for one glass coffin.”

  Something in my gut turned over itself and I twisted to look at him, lowering the bow with the arrow I’d just been about to set free. “Did you know, Gilles?”

  I could tell from the pregnant pause before he spoke that the question made him uneasy, maybe even offended. “My family was loyal to the Crown. We never—”

  “Were?”

  “Those who are left of us still are.” He dropped his gaze and pressed his hands into my spine and I straightened reluctantly. I hefted the weapon up again, keeping my core as activated as I could manage, and reloaded the arrow.

  “That’s sick,” I muttered. “To have you make my coffin, and then stick you on a ship with me just to have you put me in it.” After a beat to center my aim, I squinted and said, “I feel pretty confident that even my more royal self would beat the shit out of Valtronya if she ever got the chance.”

  The arrow sprung from my bow, wheeling through the air and landing just inside a not so disappointing boundary of the target. Gilles let out something that nearly sounded like a laugh.

  “What?” I asked, peering over at him as his hands dropped away from me.

  He shook his head. “She would’ve said the same.”

  “Valtronya?”

  “You. Her— Saylora.�
�

  I caught a glimpse of Gilles as I stole another arrow from the satchel hanging off his shoulder. He seemed lost in some memory of me I couldn’t share in. “Granted,” he said, “she wouldn’t have said so in such vulgar words.”

  Gilles seemed like he’d been fond of her— that princess I’d been before. It was strange to see that look in Gilles eyes knowing it was supposed to be about me.

  I grimaced. “Good. Cause if pre-curse Saylor had lukewarm convictions about that bitch, I want nothing to do with whoever I was before. How did you get into this whole archery thing anyway, Gilles?” I aimed, moving my glance away from his hardening eyes and the straightening line of his lips.

  “Careful aim,” he cautioned, and I adjusted as his gentle hands guided me. Never did I ever thing that Gilles would’ve been gentle with me. “Glassblowing was my father’s trade. My mother, on the other hand, came from a long line of bowmen. Some of the best history has known. She taught me as a child.”

  My arrow launched, striking impressively inside the target. I exhaled, amazed. Well, if I wasn’t the newest Fairy Sue on the block.

  “Were you a rich boy, Gilles?” I ask suddenly, putting a hand on my hip.

  “Why would you say that?”

  I shrugged. “General personality type.”

  “My family was well off,” he admitted. I could see he wasn’t pleased I’d pegged him so well, and I just nodded to myself.

  Knew it.

  “Is that why you were so loyal?” I looked at him pointedly. “Did my family line your pockets?”

  This time he did laugh, but it wasn’t kind sounding. “No. My family is loyal because your father lined no noble’s pocket. We were waiting for you to prove yourself in the same way.”

  “Did I?”

  His lack of answer felt like a power play, and I rolled my eyes. “You being all about glass is a little too convenient for my fixation with metaphors, Gilles.”

  “Glass is sharp,” he said, not missing a beat.

  “Yeah. It’s also fragile, and you can see right through it.”

  “What exactly is it that you can see through to, Princess?”

  I snatched the second to last arrow from him. “Suffering,” I said. My eyes darted to his, wondering if I was landing this emotional mark. “I’m not sure why yet,” I admitted, “but you wear it on your sleeve.”

  “And you wear your obstinance on yours.”

  “I think you meant to say ‘determination,’ but that’s cool. I knew what you meant.” I refocused on the target, my arms aching with the tension of the bowstring. “Made in fire and yet so fragile,” I breathed.

  My grip fell and the arrow skidded to the ground a second later. I sighed as he shook his head at me, handing over the last arrow. “So what’d you make, besides coffins?”

  “Urns,” he answered simply. “Steady stance, mark just to the left of the bow.”

  “At least it wasn’t mirrors,” I muttered. I nodded at his instruction, finishing to myself, “Release.”

  I ended up in the black funerary gown, much to my disappointment. But to be fair, between bubblegum pink and the color of death, frankly death would always be my shade of choice.

  As I stared at myself in the mirror, I considered my face. I was younger than I’d been the last time I’d seen my reflection on Earth, but I liked to think that the hardened look in my eyes and that permanent smirky tilt to my lips made up for the rounder cheeks and wide-eyed gaze. Despite a youthful face, it was obvious I’d lived far past my years.

  We all had.

  I fiddled with the folds of my dress, wanting to do something else to my appearance besides look like I’d just risen from the dead. Unfortunately, taking the heinous formalwear out of the running would leave me with no choice but to style myself as a Puritan. Not my aesthetic.

  I needed something to liven up this ensemble if I didn’t want to look like a walking corpse, but all the jewelry I’d found tucked away in the lowest drawer of the wardrobe had been heavy and lackluster. Plus, the elbow-length gloves I’d thought would be my salvation had been riddled with too many holes that they defeated the purpose of protecting me from being handled by five different men.

  Well, this was going to be fun. Aka disastrous.

  A knock sounded on the door and I turned, hands clutched in my hair as I tried to smooth it out with my fingers. Why did I care so goddamn much? It was a ball that was going to have no music and a grand total of six people. My expectations should’ve been set pretty damn low.

  But as I made my way to open the door, I couldn’t help but feel like a ball was something important. A regality that the old princess me had been all too familiar with. My bets were that she would’ve cleaned up a lot nicer than this hobo.

  “I’m not ready ye—” I flung the door open to find Sy standing there, Dash in his wake. I swallowed back the rest of my sentence, kind of wishing I hadn’t been about to beg for more time.

  “Hi,” I said, a bit breathless.

  I barely would’ve recognized Sy. His wavy hair was pulled back into a knot at the nape of his neck and his scruff was tamed to a reasonable length, the crease in his brow noticeably lessened. His scuffed leathers had been replaced by a long tunic, and for the first time I noticed his physique in a way that was much more obvious with Jude or Dash.

  Dash was wearing an impish grin, his bright eyes crinkling as he looked at my half-conceived costume for the night.

  “Don’t let us rush you, temptress.” His perfect white teeth— and those canines!— caught in the light as he held up his hands in defense, the smile widening across his face.

  “I’m not rushed,” I said defensively, the reaction immediately giving away my total lack of cool. I was embarrassed that I felt the need to impress a bunch of men considering we had much bigger problems than the fact that I didn’t know how to use the deathtrap of a prehistoric curling iron I thought I’d found in the bathroom.

  I made to close the door on them just as Sy held a hand up to stop it in its tracks. “May I come in a moment?”

  “Sure,” I shrugged, wondering what he could have to say to me that was worth subjecting himself to a woman getting ready. I shut the door behind him and Sy reached into a pocket I hadn’t previously noticed, pulling out a long silver chain. He held out his palm, unfurling his fingers. “I thought you might want to wear this.”

  I stepped forward to peer at his shiny offering. Fixed onto the chain was a cylindrical pendant engraved with beautiful swirling runes I couldn’t interpret. The pendant tapered to a point at the top, where a bright sapphire glistened in Sy’s cupped hand. Feeling suddenly vulnerable at his unexpected contribution, I looked up at him cautiously. “Why?”

  “Because it is yours.” I searched his eyes, but he just shrugged. “Quite alright if you do not want it. I only supposed you didn’t bring any jewels with you from Earth for such an occasion.”

  I eyed him a moment. “That was supposed to be a joke, wasn’t it?”

  Sy grinned, and I tried to ignore the lurch in my stomach as I said, “Never owned anything nearly as glamorous on Earth, but I guess that’s beside the point.”

  “You never need jewels, Saylor.” My eyes dropped back to that glimmering pendant in his hand. “Would you like me to put it on you?”

  I swallowed, the implications feeling bigger than the question that was posed. Since I wasn’t sure my dignity could withstand stammering fingers which had never had such a prized possession to hang around my neck before, I simply nodded.

  Sy moved behind me and I was suddenly acutely aware of his every movement. I brushed my hair over one shoulder and then held it up as his hands wove the chain around either side of my throat. I could feel his breath skim my hairline and sweep fleetingly against my back.

  I inhaled deeply, conscious of the pressure of the necklace against my throat as it rose and fell with the air. It was heavier than I’d anticipated.

  “How did you have this?” I asked as Sy circled back in f
ront of me.

  “You used to wear it every day.”

  “It’s strange,” I mused, lifting a hand to it where it fell heavy on my heart, “the weight of it feels familiar, and somehow...” I was about to say that it made me uneasy, but I didn’t want him to take it back.

  That wrinkle passed across his brow for brief moment, and then he said, “I shall let you finish getting ready.”

  I nodded as Sy let himself out, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

  Chapter 13

  Live to Tempt Another Day

  “What the actual fuck,” I said, jaw dropping as I pulled my cloak tighter around my body.

  I stood at the grand entrance of the ballroom, flanked on either side by Sy and Dash. The split-level chamber took up a whole floor of the tower, palatial stairs sinking into the checkered dance floor below. An enormous crystal chandelier flushed the room in golden light, and the windows.... well, they seemed to have disappeared entirely. Night curled in in pearly wisps of stars that twinkled as though they were jewels plucked from space itself.

  It was some sort of enchantment, and how the five of them had pulled this off was beyond anything in my wildest imagination. Then again, my imagination still didn’t really know how to account for magic. So there was that.

  I lifted a hand lightly to my chest as though I were touched. “All this just to celebrate my first day of being a badass?”

  “Are you one of those now?” Dash asked.

  “Definitely. Bummer though that the tradeoff is my whole body throbbing just in time for the dancing. Guess you’ll all have to dance with each other.”

  “Shame you’re sore from such a mundane thing as target practice. I could think of far more worthwhile activities to merit such a sensation.”

  I glanced over at Sy, who was as stoic as ever in spite of Dash’s wisecrack. I had a feeling that Sy didn’t approve of dirty jokes, but maybe that was because I’d never heard him make one. Or laugh at one.