“Why?”
Ingrid pauses a moment, then, “Do I need a reason more than not trusting you to properly care for yourself?”
There’s no defense for that, and Ingrid takes my grumble as concession. Stoking the flames, she returns, pouring a glass of wine for us both, a far larger measure in mine.
“Are you up for a toast?” she asks, the corners of her full lips quirking up.
“To?” There’s something suspicious in that look.
“To working together and achieving incredible things,” she says, the sparkle of a challenge in her warm brown eyes.
Diabolical. I’m in no state to suggest a better toast, and she wants me to toast accepting help?
Once again, I’m left wondering how innocent this human really is. Who is she that she’s willing to sign her life away to a demon? What could have driven her to such desperation?
I’ve often wondered about her predicament, about her ability to survive the harsh winter here, but it suddenly strikes me what an unfathomable leap she’s taken. And how well she’s landed. There have certainly been times when I’ve seen rejection in her eyes, when her fear makes her pull away, but she has never flinched from the sight of me—something I can’t say even of my own kind.
Our glasses connect with a soft clink, and I feel myself being pulled toward her. Something about that spark of challenge in her eyes, in how she refuses to bend or yield, it’s enthralling. Captivating. And not even the fog of wine can dull my undivided interest.
Who is this fascinating human who’s entered my life?
As some of my tension melts away and my guard is lowered, the throne’s power edges in, mending me from the inside out, bit by bit. Before long, I’m improved enough to notice the hard table under me, shifting to find a more comfortable position only to be frozen in place by Ingrid’s soft touch on my arm.
“Stay still, I’ll be right back.”
I’ve no thoughts of defying her, and she’s halfway across the room with the food cart when the door opens.
“Ah! Morwen, just who I hoped to find,” Ingrid says. “We’re going to need some assistance to transport the king to his bedchamber.”
“I’m fine,” I growl from my end of the room. Neither of them respond, so I decide to show them.
Lowering my resistance, I let the power of the throne flow through me, thrumming in my veins like bees in early spring. Harnessing all the strength the reach can lend, I drag myself off the table and plant my feet on the floor. The first breath I take sends me off-balance, staggering into the table for support with a curse.
Ingrid peeks into the hallway, and the next thing I hear is, “Val! Get in here.”
My best friend and confidante must have been waiting right outside the door, because he’s entering the room before I’ve even summoned another growl.
“Yeah, yeah,” Val chuckles at me as he steadies me on one side and I snarl at him. “You’re terrifying. Let’s get you to bed.”
It’s good I have someone to lean on. I don’t think I’d have made it three steps, let alone down the hall to my bedchamber, without him.
By the time my bed is in sight, the tunnel is closing in around my vision again, darkness beckoning me as I shut out the flow of power from the throne. There’s not enough to go around. I’ll be able to recover on my own.
And Ingrid… I know she will hold things together, but all I really want… what I’m too afraid to ask for…
I swear she’s glowing golden in the doorframe, a light shining through the tunnel that’s shrinking around me.
I can’t bring myself to say it aloud, but in my mind, silently, I name my desire:
Stay.
Chapter Eighteen
Ingrid
“Stay,” he says, hardly more than a whisper before he falls into a deep sleep. That one word is enough to make my chest tighten, squeezing pressure above my breastbone that I’m not sure what to do with.
I’d already intended on staying with him to keep an eye on his recovery and needs, but now there’s not a chance I’ll leave his side. Xandril is not the type to ask for anything, so it’s the least I can do to honor this request.
