Chapter 43: Some Answers
>>Aelin
His arms encircled my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world, his hands resting casually but possessively on my hips. The faint, smug warmth of his breath tickled my neck as he leaned slightly closer.
!?!?
"Comfortable?" His deep voice rumbled softly in my ear, carrying an unmistakable hint of amusement.
Heat exploded across my face. "What—why—how—?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I couldn’t very well leave you lying unconscious on the floor," Draegon replied smoothly, as if his explanation was perfectly reasonable.
"You—you could’ve put me on a bench!" I hissed, squirming to get off him as I glanced at demons who were looking back at us with confused looks.
The moment I tried to rise, his grip tightened, effortlessly pulling me back onto his lap. "Careful," he murmured, his tone low and warning. "You’ve been through a lot. You’re not ready to stand."
I glared at him over my shoulder, mortification and frustration bubbling inside me. "I am perfectly capable of sitting anywhere else but here!"
"Why not here?," he asked almost innocently.
The hushed murmur of the throne room grew louder, and I suddenly became acutely aware of the dozens of eyes watching us. The demons, warriors, and nobles present were all pretending not to notice—but I could see the flickers of curiosity, the quick glances in our direction.