If I share acquisitiveness with witches, we may share several other traits as well. There’s a chance I can read up on magic—learn spells I’ve never fathomed, spells that just might help my current situation.
Perhaps there’s even a spell out there with the potential to dull the pull I feel to Camden or numb the mate bond between us entirely. Doubtful but possible.
After a few hours of mulling over the new life Leisel and I have been thrust into, and trying to plan out contingencies for when things inevitably go wrong, I start to feel hot, despite the fire not entirely staving off the chill in the room. When I stand, intending to walk over to the window beside my bed and throw it open for some fresh air, I’m alarmed that I’m suddenly seeing double.
I sink back into the sofa, rub my eyes and my temples, and try again. This time my vision’s normal, but I still feel too warm, even once I’ve managed to throw the beautifully molded window open. Ignoring that, I take a seat on the edge of my bed, and once again get lost in my thoughts.
Leisel wakes up shortly afterward, quietly moving about her room, most likely exploring further. It’s not too much later when a boomingknock sounds on my door—no doubt one of the servants ready to escort Leisel and me to dinner. Glancing at the clock propped on the mantle above the fireplace, I see that it’s nearly eight. Night has fallen outside, and I’ve been so lost in thought I hadn’t even noticed.
Unfortunately, when I open the door, I find Camden standing there. He’s dressed very differently than how I’ve seen him so far, sporting a navy blue button-down shirt that looks to be made of fine silk, a black suit jacket, and black slacks.
He glances at my clothes, glances at the room behind me, and then looks into my eyes. “Are you and your sister ready for dinner?”
I open my mouth to utter a snarkyyesbut find it a struggle to make my lips form words. Random black spots appear in my vision. Frowning, I blink several times and attempt to speak again.
That’s the last thing I recall before the ground tilts beneath me, and darkness swallows me whole.
Chapter Seventeen
Camden
Sierra lays on her bed, appearing angelic in her sleep, while Claude assesses her. Being a talented witch doctor with a specialty in the healing arts, he should be able to diagnose exactly what made Sierra suddenly lose consciousness. He knows if he doesn’t, I’ll be extremely displeased. Despite our long-standing relationship and him being the closest person to me outside of Wyatt, he knows it’s not wise to earn my displeasure.
If I hadn’t caught Sierra, she would’ve taken a nasty fall to the stone floor. As soon as she’d opened the door, I noticed the slight paleness in her features despite the flush in her cheeks, but it didn’t alarm me as much as it should’ve. My anxiety rose as her lips moved lethargically and soundlessly. She’d blinked several times with a dazed look and then tipped over.
Leisel, ever the healer, ran in as I was frantically trying to speak to Sierra and get her to at least open her eyes. She healed Sierra fromwhatever was afflicting her instantly, but Sierra’s yet to wake up. Now, Leisel sits next to her sister on the bed, watching Claude with sharp eyes as he examines his future queen.
I stand at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over my chest, ready to fend off any possible threat to my mate—even though I don’t know what the threat is.
“Was her skin feverish when you healed her?” Claude asks Leisel, peering at her with interest.
I’m sure it’s exciting for him to have full-blooded witches, especiallyearthlywitches around him, but so far he’s curbed that excitement. I do suspect he’ll take it upon himself to teach Sierra and Leisel his craft—help them navigate their powers and learn the higher arts of magic. At least, those that he’s familiar with. Claude doesn’t have the extensive powers of a pure-blood witch, but he has enough magic to hold his own. In addition to his healing capabilities, he occasionally gets random glimpses into the future—only small snippets though that usually aren’t enough to serve as reliable indicators of what’s to come.
“It was hot when I touched it,” Leisel responds.
Claude nods slowly. “Wyatt told me a little bit about your healing abilities. From what he’s observed, when you heal, any area of injury glows a golden color. Is that correct?”
Leisel nods solemnly.
“Where on Sierra’s body was there a glow when you healed her just now?” Claude questions.
Leisel answers instantly, “Her chest, her head, and her neck.”
Claude proceeds to ask her a series of mundane questions about Sierra—from her daily activities to her food intake to her predisposition towards illnesses.
“Has she been sleeping well recently?” Claude asks.
Leisel bites her lower lip, casting me a brief, displeased glance. “No. I don’t think she’s slept since he showed up,” she replies, pointing towards me with a small hand.
I’ve suspected as much, but there isn’t anything I could do about that. Ordering my mate to sleep would’ve likely had the exact opposite effect, so I left the topic alone aside from polite questions. Clearly, I should’ve been more concerned with it.
Claude winces. “That’s three sleepless nights if I’m not mistaken.” He looks at me. “Are the rumors that Sierra had a taxing duel with Aspen correct?”
I give a single tense nod. “Is lack of sleep enough to make her fall ill?”
Claude lets out a heavy sigh. “That, combined with high levels of stress from shifters appearing in her life, would easily compromise a human’s immune system. Add in that she’s a witch, and…”
“And?” I prompt.
