The Dragon's Match

XIII

XIII

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The emaciated-looking feline sat placidly on the wooden windowsill, observing her with an unerring stillness. The only indication that it was indeed a living, organic entity was the steady, rhythmic swish of its mottled tail and the one, solitary blink it bestowed upon the human that had the audacity to occupy the same space as it.

Lillian considered it warily, unsure of its presence or from whence it even came. It must be old if one considered the patchy, threadbare appearance of its coat, yet its wide yellow eyes held an astuteness that was unaffected by this revelation.

She was not fond of cats.

And this particular creature did not seem inclined to vacate her chambers no matter how much provocation or shooing Lillian inflicted upon it. Eventually she had conceded defeat and allowed the feline to remain, so long as it did not venture too close to her person. And presently it seemed content to stay in the vicinity of the window where a pitiful stream of light fell through the panes.

Though the storm had abated, the rain had not. Outside was a veritable torrent of cold, wet weather, and Lillian was grateful for the sanctity of the ruins within which she currently resided.

Whatever Aëghan had done to establish a habitable compound, he had done it... well. It was fascinating to behold, and the day prior Lillian had not paid much of it heed. Today, however, with the prospect of her days laid out before her within the household, she found herself fascinated with the intricacies of its construction.

She had not ventured from her room yet that morning, taking her time with her toilette and wardrobe as she contemplated her fate and the enigmatic male that was responsible for it.

The structure of the ruins was a curious combination of stone and the surrounding elements, as if blended into the forest rather than vanquishing it to make room for the building. Boughs of the trees intercepted and stretched across the walls and ceilings, hanging vines of ivy blooming with white flowers she had no recollection of in this realm, strewn in whimsical garlands across the support beams. The combination of natural wood and the ruined stone foundation was an interesting commentary on human and fae structural artifaces- one that Lillian found strangely appealing and welcoming.

Then she began to compile a closer inspection of her quarters.

Her room was well-catered to a woman's needs.

The thought was unwelcome and angry knots of bitterness lodged against Lillian's throat, especially as she considered the open doors of her armoire.

Rows of colourful dresses and garments practically spilled from the shelves and hanging rod, a plethora of silks and satins to rival any reputable lady's wardrobe meeting her cultivated eye. Alas, it was not only the clothes that indicated to her that Aëghan Dranora had perhaps entertained a woman in this chamber prior to her presence.

It was remarkably well-resourced.

Every conceivable comfort had been thought of. There were arrays of oil perfumes on the dresser, as well as an ivory comb and brush, hair pins and bonnets, pretty hats and bright to muted shawls in every shade imaginable. Plush rugs littered the cold stone floor to stave off the chill and in one corner a screen would ensure privacy for the substantial bath tub behind it.

She would want for nothing and it disconcerted her.

Had he brought women to reside with him before?

His cavalier and blatant insinuations hinted as such.

She chose not to wear any of the garments within the armoire as she simply couldn't stomach the thought of it, though she would never admit to herself that the bitter taste left on her tongue was the result of the vicious tentacles of jealousy that slithered through her entire being at the thought of him with another woman. The notion was ridiculous and she berated herself for it- she had no claim over the Dravolese, nor did she want one.