Breaking Stars (Book 2) Read Online Free

mind when she did. He remained asleep, half covered and tucked into his pillow even after the sun rose and breakfast was brought up.
    Mikelle rose and brushed her long hair with orange oil until it shone. Unlike Lace and Bianji, who had jewels set into every facet of metal, Mikelle had more of a modest upbringing and was without the precious stones save the gifts King Victor had given her. She did not mind, for a woman with power did not adorn herself with finery to make herself beautiful; rather, she acted with dignity and grace to adorn herself with light. She chose a deep green dress with copper slashes in the skirts and sleeves. In the cold autumn on Anatoly, she wished she had brought something warmer. Arconia sat further south and would be warmer this time of year. Satin was proper down there, but here she would have preferred a stout cotton or even a fine wool.
    Gabriel slept soundlessly on the edge of the bed, and she almost hated to wake him. He was as handsome as a painting and looked so peaceful. The Castrofax stood out on the white background of the sheets, and she resisted the urge to touch them. Though Arconia had remained neutral in the Mage Wars, they still whispered of the fabled Six, and most people dared not even speak the names. She wondered if Ryker was still making more.
    “You’re watching me sleep again,” he whispered, jumping her out of her thoughts.
    “Get up then.”
    He shifted a little and opened his eyes, stark blue against the white of the pillow. Cracking his neck, he rolled to his back and adjusted the neckpiece Castrofax. “I slept in.” The harsh red burns across his wrists were more visible in the morning light, but she dared not ask how they got there.
    “As far as anyone knows, we wore you out.” She held up a hot mug of tea. “How do you drink tea?”
    “With cream.”
    “Strange. We saved breakfast for you.”
    He sat up and the sheets fell to his waist. She could not help but look him up and down again. She had seen many fine men stripped to the waist, but she presently forgot them and forced her eyes back up to his. He was glaring at her.
    “Have my clothes arrived?”
    “Yes,” she nodded. “I had them burned.”
    He pointed sharply towards the door, and the wristlet slid forward to the heel of his hand. She gave him a mocking curtsey before exiting into the main room. Shayleen sat in her usual window seat, tuning her violin with Lace filing her nails. Bianji sat hunched over a book with a mug of tea in one hand.
    Mikelle found his clothes nicely pressed and folded. She quickly threw the shirt at Bianji who looked up accusingly, then carefully refolded it and placed it under the nearest pillow.
    “Has anyone seen Gabriel’s shirt?” Mikelle asked loudly.
    “Cannot say that I have,” Bianji replied.
    “I do not think it arrived,” Lace chimed in.
    “You are all so mean,” said Shayleen quietly.
    Satisfied, she returned to Gabriel. He had slid out from under the covers and sat perched on the bed in his undershorts with a well-tuned glare. Despite the thick mass of black waves on his head, the rest of him was not hairy, leaving his chest and stomach smooth. She liked that. He snatched the trousers from her and quickly pulled them on. She held up the vest with new buttons and tried to imagine what he would look like wearing only that, but while she was in her dreamy world, he slipped off to the washroom and locked the door behind him.
    She returned to the main room and poured cream in his tea. It was a very Anatolian thing to do. She set out a plate of sliced ham, rolled sweet breads, dates, and hardboiled eggs. Gabriel emerged a little while later having washed his face, his curls still damp. He scrubbed at the faint stubble on his cheeks, but he lacked a blade to make a difference and so resigned to leave it.
    “Won’t you be bathing before you go?” Mikelle grinned.
    He managed a laugh as if it was the most absurd suggestion he had ever heard. “Which of