Wynnie shot Draven a scathing glance. “If you’ll recall, my estate was rather short on doors in the endless days I spent nursing you back to life. I grew rather attached to the concept. What even are barriers between a person and that person’s sister, who showed up covered in ash and pulsating with mana while granting exactly zero explanation a mere few hours ago?”
Whatever rest I had eked out, it was clear Wynnie had gotten even less. There were deep purple circles standing starkly against skin that was several shades paler than its usual warm-brown hue. Her silverblonde locks were still damp from the bath, which meant she had spent the entire night at the infirmary.
“I’m sorry,” I began, just as Draven scoffed.
“If the door between our rooms is too tempting for you, the dungeons are always an option.”
Wynnie crossed the distance, settling next to me on the bed like these were her suites and not the ones belonging to the Frostgrave King. “Ah, but if I was in the dungeons, who would take care of all the soldiers dying from a monster that shouldn’t exist?”
I raised my eyebrows, and she waved a dismissive hand. “Your compendium was still open. Anyway, worry not. I’ve come here so you can tell me all about what’s going on, and if King Frostarse doesn’t care for my presence this early in the morning, he can feel free to be elsewhere.” She turned to give him a smile that was all false sweetness. “Surely there’s some kind of royal duty for you to fulfill outside of this bed?”
I fought to keep my expression neutral, torn somewhere between laughing at her utter disregard for the male feared by several kingdoms over and wanting to cry at the reminder that there were, indeed, so many things he needed to attend to if not for the small matter of being chained to his volatile wife.
His gaze lifted to mine in a silent question.
Could he let go? Would my mana run wild again if he did?
It didn’t feel nearly as out of control as it had last night, but that didn’t make me safe to be around.
Still, we couldn’t live like this. Draven was the king of Winter, for shard’s sake. He couldn’t remain glued to my side every minute, not with frostbeasts tearing across the court and his best friend in the infirmary, and the goddess only knew what my uncle was planning for us all.
I forced down the tight bloom of panic with a sharp inhale.
That was one of the many things I had thought about in my long, sleepless hours the night before.
We needed to know the limits of my control. It would be better to find out now than when it was too late to try.
So I took careful stock of myself, the unfamiliar feel of my mana humming low and uneasy beneath my skin. It was contained… for now. Leashed in a way that I hadn’t felt last night.
I gave Draven a small dip of my chin.
“Then perhaps the two of you can return to your chambers, unless your sister would enjoy the show of watching me dress.”
Wynnie let out a low, humorless laugh. “I just spent hours in the infirmary and several long years married to the oldest lord in the kingdom before that, so you can put to rest any concern that the sight of your flaccid male-noodle will upset my delicate feminine lady constitution.”
For a single, silent moment, I wondered if Draven would make good on his threat to throw Wynnie in the dungeons after all. Sheer annoyance flared in his mana, edged with something that felt just a little bit like murder.
I pulled my arm away, testing the waters as I tapped Wynnie’s side for her to move off the bed… to escape to my rooms before Draven decided to unleash his wrath after all, however little concern she showed for that possibility.
“No one would accuse you of possessing any delicacy, Lady Noerwyn,” he responded flatly. “Nonetheless, I’ll await your departure as soon as you report on the Visionary.”
Wynnie’s features softened, despite the demand in his tone.
“There’s been no change. Amias believes her mana has kept her in a stasis to fight off the creature’s poison. Lord Soren was with her when we left.”
He nodded, though I felt the mix of panic and grief through the bond. Indecision warred within me, but he didn’t find mypresence especially comforting right now anyway, so I followed my sister off the bed. Batty remained firmly nestled into my neck, her tiny wings stretched out like a tiny makeshift scarf.
I was intensely grateful that I had donned one of Draven’s shirts before climbing into bed last night, so the additional awkwardness of shuffling nakedly to my rooms was avoided at least.
If not the terror.
With each bit of distance I put between us, I took stock of the power kept at bay within me, relief washing over me as nothing flared up to murder us all.
“Keep the door cracked,” he growled.
That was fair. His mana could reach me easily then, without blasting through the door and risking harm to us on the other side.
I nodded as Wynnie narrowed her eyes. I shook my head at her, silently telling her to wait. She pursed her lips, a reluctant acceptance that she would be grilling me the moment we were behind the not closed door.
