Total pages in book: 182
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Her expression was blank as she looked over the new selection. The bond was colored with too many emotions to process, so I moved on, strangely nervous now.
“I didn’t know about décor.” I motioned to the pillows and various art on the walls. “I guessed your style based on what I saw at your cottage, but you can change anything you want, just let the staff know. They have standing orders to charge anything you require to me. Don’t worry about spending too much—it’s yours.” I stopped at the sliding glass door and looked out at the colorful but small garden with the little iron table sitting on the adjoining terrace. “The staff will keep the flowers alive for you.” I grinned at her, but her expression was still unreadable.
In the bedroom, I stood against the wall and cleared my throat. We couldn’t derail the tour here. I had one important thing to show her, not to mention she was covered in glass and burns. She needed some medical aid or time to heal before we wrestled in the sheets.
“The bed isn’t as big as mine, and neither is the bathtub. This suite is for visiting non-dragons. The sizes are proportioned accordingly.”
“Is the bed as soft as yours?” she murmured.
“Yes. Every bit. I made sure of it. Same bed linens, same fluffy pillows. I know you like that.”
She looked around. Still, she showed no reaction, though I felt a plethora of emotions in the bond.
“Clothes are coming.” I opened the armoire. “There are some things in here that Leala guessed might fit just to tide you over. You’re technically a captive, so you don’t need fancy dresses yet. It’s mostly working attire. Although there really is no telling what Cecil is making. He apparently had a flash of inspiration from you and is working on a wardrobe. Everyone is annoyed because he delayed their orders. We’ll get you into the new dressmaker as soon as she has an opening. Right now she’s tending to everyone Cecil is shrugging off, but she’s curious. That’s probably a good thing for you. She’ll make time.”
I closed the armoire and pointed at the washroom.
“You have the essentials, and I ordered a few extras I thought you might like. You can have Leala change out the fragrances and everything as you see fit. I believe there are a lot of options. I’ve never really paid attention.”
I edged over to the closed, sliding double doors.
“And there’s one more thing.” I started to sweat a little. “Oh, actually, two things. The bookcase is empty because I thought you’d like to fill it yourself. The library is huge. The fun is in the hunt, right? So you can take out any book as needed as long as you stop throwing them at the king.”
Her grin was slight, but it was there.
“Okay, the last thing . . .” I grabbed the handles on the double doors. “Usually the rooms have more pieces of furniture—armoires, dressers, trunks, that sort of thing. Since you don’t currently have much, I figured we could leave this area for . . .” I pushed open the doors, first one and then the other, stepping back into the bedroom instead of crossing the threshold. “This.”
Inside waited various stands and easels, racks for paints and charcoals, colored pencils and pastels. Containers held instruments with which to draw, and blank canvases leaned up against the wall. A desk in the corner had her new journal, opened to the first blank page, a quill and pot of ink beside it. It was how the writing station in her cottage had been set up.
A few of her renderings from the village were set out on the stands to show her how that would work, and a couple I’d had framed. They leaned against the far wall, out of the way.
“I thought maybe . . .” I wiped my brow, still so unbearably nervous. I wanted to make this perfect for her. To give her the makings of a home, a comfortable place where she could rest and relax. I wanted to impress her. To please her. “I know you said your art was private, but I’d already had it packed up and brought with us before you said that. No one looked through it, though, after loading it up, I promise.”
“Why?” The word was so faint I barely heard it. I turned to look at her then. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide. “Why did you bring it?”
My chest tightened with something like dread. “This work, and your cooking, seemed like passions of yours. I thought . . . I just thought . . .” I cleared my throat again. I was sweating like some sort of farm animal. “I thought that maybe you’d want them with you. If I had created such beautiful art—if I had put the amount of passion and heart into them that you have—I would want to keep it.”