A murmur rippled through the gathered fae.
“Thank you,” Uther said roughly. “I owe you.”
I wanted to say he didn’t, but my eyes were already fluttering.
“Everyone out,” Elwen ordered. “Now. She needs rest.”
“Elle,” Uther started.
Elwen pointed at the exit. “Out.”
Uther glanced at Kairos. “That means you, too.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
Gratitude swelled in my heart, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Uther’s grim expression softened as he knelt beside me, his hand sliding over my head. “Get better soon, runebreaker.”
He stood and left. Lioren lingered in the doorway, his silvery gaze fixed on me. Then he turned and followed Uther.
I jolted awake as strong arms held me against an iron chest. Pale morning light filtered through the infirmary windows. Had I slept through the night?
“Kairos, she’s supposed to be resting.”
“She can do that in my chambers.”
“I know you’re protective of the girl, but this isridiculous. Do you really think she’s not safe with your sister?” A tinge of hurt colored Elwen’s voice.
“I don’t doubt your abilities, Elle.”
“Good, because I’m the Master Healer of this castle, and I say that she stays.”
He growled. “If you don’t move out of my way, I willmake you.”
He brushed past her as she muttered phrases likecompletely irrationalandinsanity, and Kairos bridal-carried me out of the infirmary.
We passed the corridor that led to the guest wing, approaching an obsidian door that swung open to dark walls. The room was enormous. A hearth dominated onewall. A war table sat near the windows, scattered with maps. Shelves lined with leather-bound books and battle trophies—fangs, teeth, strips of hide.
Weapons everywhere. Daggers displayed like art. A massive axe propped in the corner that could probably cleave a man in half. The bed was a fortress, large enough for three people, draped in furs that ranged from silver-white to deep black. Animal pelts covered the stone floor.
He kicked the door shut and lowered me onto the mattress, piling furs over me. An old memory of my mother stirred, tucking me in blankets.
Something clinked.
“Here.” His hand slid behind my head, lifting it gently. Cool glass pressed against my lips. “Drink.”
Thick liquid poured into my mouth. Syrupy sweet but with a medicinal bite. I swallowed, and warmth bloomed down my throat, soothing the raw ache.
“More,” he said.
I drank again. Each swallow made breathing easier, and the fog in my head cleared, the room coming into focus. Then I finally saw him.
He looked awful, his armor streaked with dirt and blood. His face was drawn tight and the cut above his eye bled, a steady trickle running down his temple.
“Why haven’t you healed yourself?”
He shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“Kairos.”
