A human woman… steering me around.
I might laugh were I not so confused.
The warmth of the bedroom proper feels like I’ve stepped into the sun, and Oraphia leaves no moment for my questions as she continues to holler orders to Raevi. As she directs me toward the couch beside the fireplace, I take note of the sky beyond the glass.
The afternoon sky lies untouched.
No souls.
No tears.
I fall into the couch thanks to Oraphia’s shove, and the quarters’ door bursts open, slamming against the wall. Ryc’s wide and wild topaz eyes find mine in less than a heartbeat. A wave of relief floods our bond before it transforms into indiscriminate rage.
It matches the polar anger I felt moments ago.
“What happened?” he roars, storming across the room.
My clattering teeth prevent me from answering.
Ryc pivots, snatching the folded, embroidered blanket from the foot of our bed. He slings it over the back of the couch beside me as he swings himself around. Claiming the seat next to me, he draws me into his warm embrace and his eyes widen.
“You’re frozen,” he breathes, the rage in his tone seconds ago now a much more muted note.
He contorts himself, quickly removing his shirt. And ripping my towel from me, he casts both aside with little care. I’m not left nude for longer than the few seconds it takes for him to wrap us both beneath the blanket.
Curling an arm around me, he draws me as close as possible as I curl my legs onto the couch, and the heat of his skin is like that of the sun itself.
Shamelessly, I cling to him.
He grips my chin, tilting my face to his and claims my lips in a possessive and terrified, yet thankful kiss. As he rests his brow against mine, his chest heaves and his heart pounds beneath my palms.
He’s scared.
Not angry.
Why?
Oraphia too…
Beside the fireplace, to my left, a full-figured blond female rises. I hadn’t even noticed her. She turns, glancing at Oraphia before meeting my stare and quickly lowering fearful brown eyes to the floor.
“It will take a couple minutes,” she says, the timbre of her voice much higher and timid than I anticipated. “But the fire will grow.”
“Thank you, Raevi,” Ryc says and she bobs in a quick curtsy.
“I’ll fetch tea,” she says and streams toward the door.
My eyes linger behind her until they can’t.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard her speak. She’s been Oraphia’s shadow for the last few weeks, learning what it takes to become the queen’s personal attendant.
Oraphia steps into view, assuming the spot Raevi had stood, her hands clasped before her, her stare lowered.
“What happened?” Ryc repeats his demand in a much calmer yet no less relenting tone.
“Lady Ves came in for a bath following your sparring lesson,” Oraphia answers, keeping her eyes downcast. “Drew the bath, left her for no more than ten minutes. When I went to check on her, she wasn’t breathing and the water somehow turned to ice.To ice, Your Majesty,” she finishes in tight surprise. “I had to use a fire iron to free her.”
My eyes dart to the rack of fire-tending tools on the left of the hearth. The fire iron is indeed missing.
