It takes forty hours for Sierra to wake up. Forty hours in which I find it exceedingly difficult to function. Leisel, unsurprisingly, stays by Sierra’s side the entire time. The little healer sits next to her all day, reading or thinking, and sleeps beside her as well. I have no doubt she’s simply mimicking the behavior Sierra has displayed towards her—unfailing loyalty.
I check on them over a dozen times, disregarding Leisel’s irritation and demands for me to leave Sierra be while she rests. Little does the young witch know, that what I’m doing is the bare minimum contact that Ineedto stay sane.
When Wyatt informs me that a servant, delivering food for Leisel, found Sierra awake, I push aside my instinctual urge to go to her and visually confirm she’s alright. Instead, I bury myself in work, trying to drown out my need to see her because I doubt thatshewants to seeme.
That comes to an abrupt halt when Wyatt strolls back into my office a few hours later, saying, “Thought you should know; Sierra’s down at the stables, taking care of her horses.”
My head snaps up from the map I’m pouring over—which has known locations of militant groups of vampires pinned down—and hope to gods I’ve heard my brother wrong. “What?”
I can see Wyatt’s amusement from the twinkle in his eyes, the bastard. “After eating, she had one of the servants show her to the stables. Now she and Leisel are running their horses in a round pen—something about giving them necessary exercise, from what was passed on to me by a stable hand.”
I exhale an irritated breath. “She’s supposed to beresting. Does shewantto fall ill again?”
My instant urge is to track her down and demand she stay within the castle and take it easy on herself, but she’d likely do the exact opposite just to spite me.
Wyatt looks at the bookshelf behind me, his expression thoughtful. “Honestly, Cam, I’m pretty sure that is her version of rest—or, at the very least, something that calms her.”
Infuriated that my mate is tiring herself after only just having woken up from a deep sleep caused by exhaustion, I snap, “Working with horses is not resting! Wepaypeople to do that for us!”
Wyatt, who’s normally the less level-headed out of us, gazes at me steadily. “What do you think her daily tasks were back in Aesara?”
I pause to think. Running a farm single-handedly couldn’t have been easy for Sierra, and I highly doubt she allowed Leisel to do much work. The list of what she was forced to do every day is doubtlessly extensive. For one, she had a sister to raise and teach on her own. From the textbooks I’ve glimpsed, as well as Leisel’s eloquence and vocabulary, I’d guess at least a few hours were dedicated to just her sister’s studies. On top of that, she had to keep the horses’ stables clean and the horses fed and exercised. She also had to keep her lands up to par—from the little I know of smaller shifter villages that supply grain and produce, that involves planting, turning over soil, fertilizing, and harvesting. Then there’s the hunting and trading several times a week in Aesara’s market. I also have no doubt there was constant maintenance around her land that she had to do.
So, put in perspective, merely spending a bit of time with her horses probablyisSierra’s version of rest. It still boils my blood that she’s up and about so soon after being passed out for nearly two days.
I push away from my desk, stand, and stalk past Wyatt on my way out of the room.
“Going somewhere?” he asks sarcastically.
I spare him a brief glance. “To ensure my mate’s okay.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sierra
It’s as I’m brushing down Shadow after his run in the round pen, side by side with Leisel who’s tending to Duchess, that IfeelCamden’s aura creeping up behind me. That in itself scares the shit out of me. I’ve been conscious of Camden’s presence every time we’re in a room together, but I’ve never quitefeltit this way before. There’s a slight tingling in my chest, as well as the primal knowledge that he’s near.
Setting aside the brush I was using on Shadow, I turn around. Sure enough, there stands the Alpha in all his glory. He’s a few feet away from the entrance of the stable, and the halo of sunlight surrounding him makes him look like a dark angel. He’s in a dressed-down getup of loose dark trousers and a crisp white button-up.
I woke up only a few hours ago, after the strangest and longest slumber of my life. I’d obviously underestimated the consequences of my skewed sleeping schedule—something I’ll try to keep more consistent moving forward.
“Hello,” I greet Camden.
Leisel throws a glance over her shoulder, gives Camden a distasteful up-and-down, wrinkles her nose, and returns her attention to Duchess.Dismissed. I never knew my sister was capable of such sass. I think it might run in the bloodline.
“How are you feeling?” Camden questions without preamble.
I don’t saylike shit, even though it’s true. Though I slept for an obscene amount of time, the weight of worrying about…well, everything, makes me feel like I’m a hundred years old. My body is stiff and sore, and my mind is a muddled mess.
“Well enough,” I tell Camden.
A muscle in Camden’s cheek ticks, betraying his irritation. I find myself loving how easy it is to get a reaction from him. I also find that tick in his cheek enticing, and I have to subdue the urge to reach out and stroke it with my finger. Which means that though I’ve been asleep for nearly two days, the bond hasn’t been sleeping with me. It’s progressing.
I need to prioritize reading up on the bond more; what little I’ve been able to get my hands on about it living in Aesara clearly isn’t enough to understand the full strength of it or its development. I know that the bond activates the moment two fated soulmates meet, and strengthens consistently thereafter, but I need more specifics if I’m going to be prepared to handle the force of it.
“You look better,” Camden comments.
“I no longer look like death incarnate,” I correct.
