Shards blasted hells.
Just as I turned to go, though, I heard the smallest trickle of water. Tilting my head, I stepped closer to see steaming, shimmering water filling the deep basin, just as it did when Mirelda called my bath.
The palace had taken pity on me.
Maybe I should have felt sorrier for myself, knowing that a sentient hunk of stone felt pity for me, but I wasn’t about to look this gift Velgrun in the mouth.
I tucked my wings in, wincing at the sting as they folded beneath my skin, then stripped off my clothes before lowering myself into the glorious warmth. Mirelda was there when I got out, alerted by whatever sixth sense she had that I was about to have the nerve to dress myself.
Or rather, to let Closet dress me, which was indeed a battle I was too tired to fight today. Though I had mana now, I wasn’t any more impervious to the cold. Either the Unseelie nature of half of my powers or the ice that ran unchecked through my veins kept me from stabilizing myself the way the rest of the Winter Court did.
It was hit or miss whether the closet would deign to accommodate my need for warmer clothes, so I was just as happy to let Mirelda wrestle something with thick enough fabric from the opinionated room.
I focused on the gentle feeling of her hands arranging my braids, the plush velvet fabric of the pale blue gown, the familiar weight of my dagger at my thigh, anything at all but the waymy mana had so thoroughly debilitated me the only time I truly dared to try to wield it.
Even if Nevara woke up, would I be able to feed my powers into the Heartstone before it killed me? Could I convince her to let me try if there were no other options?
They weren’t questions that bore considering yet. If she woke up… we could get our answers then.
Draven stepped into the room, already looking pristinely put together. The tailored cut of his high-collared coat accentuated his broad shoulders and muscular chest. His moonlit locks fell artfully across his brow, and a row of dark earrings gleamed from the tip of each ear.
But it was his eyes that got me, just like always, burning with every shade of frost and teal and emerald as they met my gaze in the mirror.
He truly was gorgeous, in an untouchable way that made me almost forget the way he had fallen on his knees for me in more ways than one.
“I’m headed to see Nevara… if you’re up for it.” His tone and expression were carefully guarded. Even his mana seemed contained, like he had hidden all evidence of his feelings inside of himself the way I did my wings.
I nodded, wondering whether he had been summoned by my thoughts. I hadn’t tried to replicate the way he had spoken inside my head, but that didn’t mean I had never done it unintentionally. I couldn’t bring myself to ask, not sure I was ready for the answer.
Mirelda secured the diamond-studded strands of silver she had threaded into my braids, working seamlessly around Batty’s stubborn presence on my shoulder. As soon as she placed the final pin, she excused herself.
Draven’s gaze settled on the subtle hint at a crown before trailing down to my features, lingering on my carefully paintedlips long enough for an unmistakable spike of heat to escape whatever shields he had put in place.
Wordlessly, he held out his arm, and I spun to take it, ignoring the lightning that zapped from his body to mine. It was a strange place we were in.
Married, but not quite together. Our bodies caving at every turn while our minds refused to.
If I had any privacy at all, I might have asked Wynnie about it. Her marriage might have been unconventional, but it was more experience than I had with relationships.
Then again, nothing about my marriage was conventional either. We had been forced into these roles before we chose them, and whatever we felt for each other didn’t erase who we were. Not our roles or our heritage or the way we couldn’t seem to break the silence between us.
It was a relief when Draven spun us into darkness and frost.
At least, until we landed on the other side.
I had only been to Nevara’s rooms once before, the day she told me—or at least heavily implied—that my sister was going to die.
Though, in hindsight, I wondered if what she had been trying to do was apologize in advance for all the torture and pain she couldn’t, or wouldn’t keep me from enduring, for reasons only she understood.
This was the only way that I could See… I hope that you’ll remember that.
I shook the memory away. Wynnie was alive, and so was I, so I could hardly hold that against her anymore. If I had even been capable of holding a grudge against someone who looked closer to death than to life.
Since the infirmary was more or less emptied out from the attacks, Draven had moved Nevara to her own rooms, both for her comfort and to make her less visible.
The court needed to believe that rest alone stood between her and recovery. It was a thin hope, but that was better than no hope at all.
Now, standing in the doorway of her chamber, I wasn’t sure how true that was, if it was cruel to give any of us hope at all.
