Autumn was summarily dismissed after dinner, and the knight walked her back to her rooms in uncertain silence. He did not sneak any glances at her, nor did he stray from his perfectly correct position at her elbow. But somehow, he gave the impression that he wanted to. Or perhaps Autumn was simply projecting. She, herself, badly needed someone to talk to. They crossed endless long corridors of bare stone covered in black tapestries. The sconces were set far apart and flickered feebly in the gloom, the honey-rich aroma of beewax insufficient to cover the distinct smell of dust that haunted this place. Autumn’s fear had long been replaced by pity for this sad and lonely kingdom, as well as incandescent rage towards its ruler.
“Is he always like this?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.
“As long as I’ve known him. Which, to be fair, we have already established has not been very long at all.”
She allowed herself to look at him. He seemed as serene as ever, which made her feel slightly unnerved.
“Right. If I may ask, Knight — do you mind if I call you Knight?”
“You may call me whatever you want.”
Autumn almost said something to that, but held her tongue at the last moment. Knight had already made his opinion on the matter of names quite clear — there was no need to retread this conversation simply because she felt uncomfortable about it.
“What do you make of the situation?” she asked instead. “Do you believe that he’s sincere? About wanting a wife?”
The construct gave her question thoughtful consideration, tilting his head and humming low in his throat. After a moment, he said: “I don’t know enough about the King to be able to tell you why he has rejected wives before, and whether or not he’s acting differently now. But I do know that he made me, and that he poured all of the magic of my creation into a single instruction, and that instruction is to protect you.”
They stopped at the door of her suite and the knight caught her gaze with his own, his deep dark eyes endlessly fascinating. “I am bound to serve him as all of his constructs are,” he continued, “as that is the nature of our existence. But I have not been instructed to care for him in any particular way, nor to put his comfort above yours. I am singularly dedicated to you, your highness, and I do not see why the King would have made me so if he did not wish to see this through. Eltanin of the Darkmore does not waste his magic, as I have come to understand.”
She nodded, pressing her lips together. While she didn’t share Knight’s optimism, she did have to admit that creating an entire person to be her bodyguard did seem like a lot of efforts to go to. But then again, she had no idea what the man was even capable of. Maybe making knights out of deers was a trivial matter to him.
“He has made me for you,” repeated the construct, apparently intent to make a point. “Know that no matter what happens from here on out, whether this wedding comes to pass or not, it will not change a thing. I will always remain yours, your highness.”
Autumn swallowed. The man’s gaze was far too intense for her sanity, his words threatening to unravel her. They were, simply put, among the most romantic things that anyone had ever said to her; and yet they came from someone who had no choice in the matter. It was too much, and after the day she’d had, she didn’t think that she could handle it. She let her gaze fall away from his and cleared her throat.
“You don’t have to call me highness. In here, I’m just Autumn.”
She’d been demoted, after all. There were no princesses in the court of the Wizard King, no one to threaten his authority. Only constructs and ill-fated potential brides.
“Very well, Lady Autumn,” he murmured. “I will be outside your door all night, should you have need of me.”
“All night? Absolutely not, Knight. You need to sleep.”
His gaze on her did not waver. But his expression did change minutely, in a way that she could not interpret, before his breath left him in a soft sigh.
“If that is your wish, my lady. I shall be here until midnight, and return in the morning. Another construct will be at the door in the interim, and you may call on them. But please keep in mind that while I trust all of the others here to care for you in my absence, none of them are specifically bound to do so.”
She nodded, and they exchanged their good nights. Once the door closed behind him, Autumn found that sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. She was overwhelmed by about a million different emotions, and their conversation had not helped matters much. She liked Knight. He deserved so much better than this life that he had been bound to, and that angered her. She busied herself unpacking her luggage, but hadn’t brought nearly enough things with her to occupy her mind until she’d calmed down. She decided to take a warm bath. Perhaps the steam and the fragrant oils would help calm her breathing and allow her to think again.
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