There are hundreds of steps now, and when I chance a look down, the floor is lost in shadows, so far below.
A vine wraps around my wrist, tightening, and before I’m able to slice through it with my claws, I hear,“Should’ve left him to die,”and the stairs are gone.
I’m falling again, and then suddenly, I stop, yanked back upwards by the vine still holding my wrist—now the only tether keeping me from falling to the ground. I have no idea what’s happening, but instincts take over, and I start climbing the vine, still doing whatever I can to reach that golden light.
The vine stays firm around my wrist as I climb past sweet-smelling flowers, up hundreds of feet until I’m scrabbling my way through the doorway into the golden warmth of sunshine.
Laying on the grass, a warm breeze drying the sweat of exertion from my brow, I take a long, slow breath and exhale.
Freedom.
I wake to the sound of a crackling fire, the smell of something warm and meaty, and feeling remarkably better. Perhaps better than ever, the power of the throne reaching out to me, feeding me healing energy while also making me stronger and more alert.
My bedclothes are damp with fever sweat, snow falling outside—how long was I out?
I start to look for clues, then stop, eyes landing on Ingrid, asleep at my bedside, a half-knitted blanket slipping off her lap. She’s not snoring but breathes deeply, a spot of drool gathering on the arm of the chair she’s claimed. What is she doing here?
Extracting myself from bed as quietly as possible, I wrap myself in a cloak and head for the door. Val’s on the other side, a tray of food between us, both surprised to see the other.
He cranes his neck, looking past me to where Ingrid’s sleeping, his tail twitching as he arches a brow. “And where are you off to, Your Highness?”
I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me, but I can’t help but bristle at the way he says that.
“How long have I been down?”
Val frowns, nudging me back into the room. “A little over a week,” he says, voice low. “Do you remember me bringing you reports?”
“It’s all a blur,” I admit reluctantly. “I’m not sure what I remember.” I look to Ingrid, and Val answers my question without me having to ask.
“She’s been here the whole time. Only left when Morwen or I forced her to take care of her own needs. You should thank her.”
I grumble, forcing myself to look away from her. I didn’t ask for her to sacrifice her own wellbeing for me. In fact, I told her she didn’t need to be present. If she neglected herself for my sake after that, it was her own foolish choice.
“Take another day or two before you jump back into your duties,” Val adds, depositing the tray of food next to my bedside. Before he leaves, he gives Ingrid another pointed look, trying to tell me something I don’t fully understand.
“We’ll see,” I mutter, focus turned entirely on the food as Valenar exits.
He pulls the door closed softly, but it’s still enough to startle Ingrid awake, gasping when she sees me.
“You’re up!” she exclaims.
“I am.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Much improved,” I say, slurping the thunderroot soup Val left behind.
“That’s good, you had us worried,” Ingrid says, twisting the knitted blanket between her fingers.
“I told you I would heal.”
“Yes,” she says, the softness in her tone turning to hard, clipped edges. “But then you didn’t. You didn’t improve for days and days.”
I grunt between slurps. “Healing can take time.”
“Especially when you’re refusing the power available to you because you have to do everything unassisted,” she snaps.
There’s an argument on the tip of my tongue, but I stop it. The assertion might be right, but I don’t think that’s a conclusion she would have come to on her own.
