Ezra accompanied Noah to the bridal chambers in absolute silence. It was only once he opened the doors to the bridal chambers and ushered Noah in that the old yokai finally spoke again.
“His Grace will be in shortly,” Ezra said in a clipped tone. “I bid you a pleasant evening.”
With that, the steward retreated, pulling the doors shut behind him. Seconds later, Noah heard a faint clunk followed by the distinctive click of a lock sliding into place.
“Did he just…” Noah tested the handle, rattling the doors. There was no doubt about it, the steward had just locked him in. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.
He was going to murder everyone here, except for Calliope. He was the one who had been stood up and left waiting at his own welcome banquet, so why was he the one being locked up and treated like a flight risk? Noah had more to say to the absent god than vice versa—more even, if he’d learned anything from the day’s events—so what was the point of locking him in?
His only consolation was that at least the so-called bridal chambers felt like they had life in them—the first place in Ashbluff that did. The room had windows that stretched nearly up to the ceiling, as well as twin doors that looked like they led to a balcony, but the drapes had been drawn shut. Off to one side was a bistro table just big enough for two, with chairs that looked like they’d been borrowed from the feast hall. On the other side, pressed up against a window, was a narrow writing desk with stains and scratches on the surface that were visible even from across the room.
The stone floor was covered with an ornate crimson and cream rug that prompted Noah to kick off his shoes and test it under his bare feet. Ezra said these were the bridal chambers, after all, and wasn’t he, the bride, entitled to make himself comfortable? The was pleasantly soft beneath his feet and well broken-in. Despite that, it was still thick and plush rather than stiff and ornamental—he’d been right that this room looked well and truly lived-in. This wasn’t the kind of rug shoved into some guest room as a decorative touch, but the kind that was made to last and hold up to daily, long-term use.
Ashbluff either had so few resources that someone’s personal room had been borrowed and repurposed as a bridal chamber or they could only afford to furnish their rooms with used, second-hand goods. It was a prospect he never would have considered in another god’s domain, but, based on what he’d seen of Ashbluff, it seemed as likely a story as any. Poverty could very well account for what Calliope referred to as its ‘troubles’.
In any case, the broken-in furnishings did make for a more comfortable experience for Noah. There was a small sitting area in front of the lit hearth, with twin couches that faced one another and a low-profile tea table between the two, and Noah sank down into their velvety cushions. The fireplace built into the wall opposite the bed, directly adjacent to the seating area, crackled quietly as it filled the room with comfortable warmth.
The deity he’d been bound to had already been so late he’d missed an entire ‘banquet’—it stood to reason that, if he’d ever intended to show up to the meal at all, he’d be through the door any minute, right? When he finally made his appearance, Noah was going to press him for answers—if he didn’t murder him first. What the hell was the god thinking?
Why the fuck would he set the waypoint for his altar in the middle of snowy nowhere? Just how many sacrifices had he killed like that, letting their lives extinguish in such a pointless way? Where did he find the nerve to treat Noah, a member of the Astraeus Clan—whose divine mana was, frankly, an invaluable resource in the Spirit Realm—like a common nuisance and unwelcome guest?
Countless questions swirled through his mind, waiting for the opportunity to be answered, but there was nothing Noah could do without the god in question present. Instead, he occupied himself with rifling through the handful of worn books sitting on top of the tea table. Maybe there would be something in one of them that would give him some insight as to what the hell was going on with Ashbluff or in the mind of its guardian and master.
How much did the god know about the state of his territory in the Mortal Realm? Was he indifferent to it? Did he know how bad it was, that it was spiraling into such rapid decay that if its source wasn’t rooted in the problems of the Spirit Realm in the first place, it would be causing them by the end of it? What the hell was happening for things to have gotten this bad—and why wasn’t he doing anything to stop it?
Unfortunately, he found no answers in the pages he flipped through. None were written in a language that he could recognize and, from the looks of it, it wouldn’t have made a difference if he had. It looked to be some sort of collection of reference books for local flora and fauna, with handwritten notes scrawled on the sides.
Noah stiffened at the sound of footsteps approaching the door. He shut the book in his hands, getting to his feet.
The footsteps slowed outside the door…
…and continued on.
“This disrespectful bastard,” Noah muttered underneath his breath, sinking back into the cushions. He leaned his elbow up against the armrest, settling his cheek against his fist. “Any minute, then.”
Or so he’d hoped.
There was no clock for him to watch, but he could gauge the passing of time by how heavy his eyes grew. The first hour he’d been on guard, expecting to come face to face with the deity he’d been chained to at any moment, itching for a face to put to the frustration he’d been experiencing all day. He was eager to give the deity a piece of his mind, to let him know exactly what Noah thought both about his continued absence and how deep he had allowed the suffering of his territory in the Mortal Realm to grow.
Every time Noah heard footsteps in the hall he jerked to attention, a million words on the tip of his tongue, only to sink back into the couch and deflate every time they passed, the wind taken out of his sails. He was left with nothing to do but wait. Eventually, the soft crackle and pop of the fire lulled him into a drowsy, relaxed state that even stewing in his anger couldn’t prevent.
His increasing frustration wasn’t strong enough to overcome the increasing heaviness and exhaustion in his body as the cycle repeated over and over again. By the time Noah began to grudgingly accept that the deity was, once again, standing him up, his eyes were heavy with sleep and his body was toasty and warm from the fire.
“This asshole…” Noah mumbled, finally throwing in the towel.
Within the room the largest, most imposing feature in the room was a four-post canopy bed so large that it took nearly the entirety of one wall. Noah had initially avoided it, faintly intimidated by the size of it, but it had become a heavier and heavier temptation.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would comb every inch of the castle to track the man down and give him a piece of his mind. Tonight, he could rest.
Thick velvet curtains hung down for privacy, gathered and tied in place by tasseled accessories. On either side of it, someone had managed to wedge twin nightstands in on either side, each illuminated by softly lit, gilded lanterns. A black fur blanket was draped at the foot of the bed, luxuriously soft as Noah ran his fingers through its inviting softness. The bed was large enough that he could lay across it horizontally and stretch from fingers to toes without skimming the edge of it.
He closed his eyes, distantly listening for the sound of footsteps over the soft crackle of the fireplace. If the deity ever did show his face, Noah was going to give him a piece of his mind. He was… he was just going to let himself drift off for a while, because his body was so, so heavy. He let himself drift off into a heavy, dreamless sleep, mentally and physically spent.
It could have been minutes or hours later that Noah stirred. He had no sense of time, his sole indicator that it was still night and his primary concern being the blindingly bright moonlight shining on his face, disturbing his slumber. Noah groaned, shielding his face with his hand to try and block out the light. Why was this enough to wake up in the middle of the night when his body still felt like lead and his thoughts like sludge?
A little moonlight wouldn’t usually be enough to wake him up, so that couldn’t be it. But wasn’t there something else, something he was forgetting?
“Weren’t the curtains… closed?” he mumbled, propping himself up halfway up on his opposite elbow.
It was an enormous effort to pry his eyes open, but he managed it. He had to squint to see through the light, but the curtains were unmistakably—wide open. Noah heard the balcony doors close with a soft click. He froze in place, suddenly wide awake when a deep, gravelly voice answered him.
“Yes.”
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