Iwoke to warmth and light and the scent of cedar. It was peaceful with the snap and crackle of a fire, and the whoosh of a gentle breeze from the patio. The curtains billowed out, then lay still again. I smiled, wondering if I’d gone back in time and was in my parents’ house. Any minute, they’d burst into my room, calling out my name. I’d embrace them tightly, breathing in the comforting scent of father’s pipe tobacco and mother’s flowery perfume. I’d whisper all the things I wanted to say—how much I loved them, how proud I was to be their daughter, and how sorry I was we hadn’t had more time together.
Time. I blinked as the last fragments of that daydream faded, and I realized I wasn’t in my parents’ old house, my room at the palace, or even in the windowless room Oren had given me. My heart kicked as it all came rushing back. Stealing from the temple, the demented hell dog, and being attacked by the hag.
After she caught me, everything was a blur. I had fragmented memories of a knife slicing through my clothes and then my skin. A fire so hot I thought I’d roast alive and a chant in my head. I was going to die and yet, somehow, some way, I’d been saved.
Now, I lay in Oren’s room. In his bed. My face flushed hot, and suddenly, I was aware of every fiber of my body as I turned to the other side of the bed. He lay beside me, propped up on one elbow, studying me. His expression was a mix of relief and hope, like coming out of a long winter hibernation to the warmth of a spring sun. His eyes shone with a mix of unspoken emotions and words stuck in my throat. It was clear that he had saved me, and a rush of gratefulness and something else I dared not dwell on simmered within me.
“Tanith.” He brought my hand to his mouth. “Finally.”
When his lips touched my skin, the newness of our situation caused a flutter in my stomach. Something had changed between us. I was suddenly aware of the sheerness of my nightgown, even though the covers were pulled up to my shoulders, and the bandages that covered my arms and legs. More than anything, I sensed his heat—his presence—making me crave his touch.
“What happened?” I whispered, my voice hoarse from disuse.
Pain rose behind his eyes, and his brow darkened. “It’s over now. How do you feel?”
“Alive.” I shrugged my shoulders, but no weakness troubled me. I was awake and I felt very much alive, with strength surging through my veins and—my stomach rumbled loudly—I was hungry. “How long was I asleep?”
“You’ve been sleeping for seven days. Healing. You must be famished.”
“Seven?” My eyebrows shot up in alarm. “How?”
Oren slid out of bed, shirtless, I noted with a sharp intake of breath. My gaze lingered on his back, for right below his shoulder blades were twin scars, each one about the length of my hand. Curious.
He padded to the patio and returned with a tray of food. I sat, letting the covers slip around my waist, and decided not to worry about modesty. With Oren, everything was different. He had never leered at me like the palace guards, and when his gaze lingered on the swells of my breasts peeking above the neckline of my nightgown, I felt desired in the most delicious way. Let him look, let him be tempted.
He sat the tray in my lap and propped up the pillows behind me, fingers brushing my skin. I swallowed hard, unsure if I was hungrier for food, answers, or him. But the food won.
“Take it slow,” Oren cautioned, sitting on the edge of the bed so that he faced me.
Obediently, I chewed while he watched. When he was satisfied I wouldn’t gorge myself, he explained.
“A body-snatcher, an elder witch with dark magic, captured you. I believe she took up residence here while I was gone and saw our return as an opportunity to steal your body. She likely studied our movements to ensure you’d be alone in the castle and waited until her magic was strong enough to perform the ritual.”
“But you defeated her.” I breathed. Obviously, or else I would not be here.
He inclined his head. “I did, but not without consequence.”
Instead of holding my gaze, he stared off at the fire, his side profile thoughtful, sad even. Or was it something else? I popped a grape into my mouth and chewed, the first hints of misgivings stirring. “Tell me.” It was a plea, not a command.
Squaring his jaw, he faced me again. “A body-snatcher needs a mortal body to dwell in. The witch was dying and needed a new body, a younger one. I caught her in the middle of a transference ceremony which would have forced your soul out of your body and allowed hers to take your place.”
The fruit tasted like ash in my mouth. “I didn’t know that was possible.”
“Anything is possible with magic,” Oren confirmed. “We dueled and destroyed a tower. I did a thorough examination of the damage, and many sections of the castle are uninhabitable now.”
“And my clothes?”
“Gone.”
“Oh. Oren, I had… I found…”
He waved his hand, stopping me. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
My heart kicked. “Surely you don’t mean that your vendetta against Dowler is over?”
“No.” His brows drew together. “That still stands, but I need to go about it in a different way, I see that now.”
I almost held my breath. Was this an apology? Or as close to one as I would get from him? Yet his eyes kept sliding away.
