She balked. “You can’t tell me your leg doesn’t hurt.”
“Only as much as having a hot coal sewn to my thigh would hurt.” He chuckled at her scowl. “You beside me will make me think of other things.” She still hesitated and he stared at her, unsmiling. “Did you fall in love with the forest king and now want nothing to do with the man?”
She pretended to study him. “I very much liked the bittersweet blooms, and the horns were an interesting touch.” Her finger outlined the edge of his jaw, pausing to rub the coarse hairs of his beard. “You’re almost too pretty now.”
He laughed weakly and lifted the blankets, exposing a bare hip and long leg. Louvaen toed off her borrowed shoes and slid in beside him fully dressed. Ballard gathered her close, and she rested her head on shoulder, luxuriating in the familiar ecstasy of his body pressed along the length of hers. She’d have to abandon him soon to fetch Gavin, Magda and Ambrose. They’d use her guts for bowstring if she waited too long in telling them he was awake.
They lay quietly together until Ballard raised his hand to the candlelight, turning it one way and then another. “It’s been many years since my hands looked like this.” He ran his thumb across his fingertips and the blunt distal edges. “The flux hit so fast this last time, we weren’t prepared. I held on long enough to help Ambrose lock Gavin in his chamber—not that it did much good in the end. I didn’t reach my cell before I changed. Ambrose had to trap me in the buttery. I don’t remember anything else after that except you holding a pistol and fire in my leg. What happened?”
Louvaen wasn’t thrilled at the idea of revisiting those nightmarish events in the bailey, but he had a right to know and if she didn’t tell him, someone else would. He listened without interruption when she recounted her trip with Jimenin to Ketach Tor, Ambrose’s clever illusion of Cinnia that even fooled Mercer and the mayhem that exploded thereafter. She didn’t dwell on the screams of the man torn asunder by Isabeau’s roses or the savagery with which he and Gavin had dispatched the remainder of Jimenin’s troop. He must have heard the horror in her voice, because he grew rigid against her.
“I won’t lie, Louvaen,” he said flatly. “As a man I would have slaughtered those men with the same violence I did as a beast. The only difference is I’d have used sword and axe instead of teeth and claws. Such is the way of battle and protecting your own.”
She raised herself on an elbow to peer into his face. His eyes flashed a challenge and an unspoken message.This is part of who I am. She smoothed one of his eyebrows. “I’m not judging you, Ballard. I nearly blew your leg off, and I love you.”
His features softened and his gaze caught fire. “Do you? Even now, after what you’ve seen the curse do to a man?”
Louvaen kissed the tip of his nose, moved down and captured his lips for another lingering kiss. He moaned against her mouth. She offered another quick peck before drawing away. “Oh that’s nothing,” she said. “I put up with your wizard insulting and trying to poison me all winter just to be near you. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.” She grinned as he broke into a hearty laugh.
He pulled her back down to him. The curse had recognized her sincerity the first time she’d uttered the sentiment to a sleeping Ballard. True Love’s Kiss didn’t break the bane; true love and the courage to admit it did. Well, that and the odd twist of her being nonborn. Good thing she, not Cinnia, had fallen in love with Ballard.
“You don’t ask if I love you.” Ballard’s voice vibrated under her cheek.
“I don’t need too. You said so, and I believe you. Besides, I know you love me.” He’d shown her in countless ways, proclaimed it in many different words.
“You’re right, I do. I must; I spent all winter preventing my wizard from turning you into a toad.”
Louvaen heard the laughter in his voice and would have cuffed him lightly on the arm if she hadn’t caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were cloudy with pain and perspiration sheened his forehead. She ignored his protests and slid out of the bed. “You’re hurting, Ballard; I can see it. There’s willow bark tea, but I think you need something stronger. I’m off to get Ambrose.” She captured his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be back soon.”
She had her hand on the latch when he called out to her. “Louvaen, send Gavin to me.”
Reluctant to leave him but unable to give him the relief he could find in one of Ambrose’s concoctions, she headed to Magda’s rooms. She met the sorcerer in the corridor. Louvaen tossed aside polite greetings, familiar enough with Ambrose now to recognize his appreciation for brevity. “He’s awake, in pain, and asking for Gavin.”
Ambrose gave her quick nod and strode past. “Gavin’s in the kitchens with your father and Cinnia,” he tossed over his shoulder before disappearing into his chambers.
The three hailed her appearance with offers to sit and inquiries about Ballard. She uttered only half of Ballard’s request before Gavin bolted out of the kitchen.
“He’s been worried and frightened for his father.” Cinnia patted the space next to her on the bench. “I don’t think he quite yet believes they’re no longer curse-bound.”
Louvaen dropped down beside her. “I hardly believe it myself.”
Mercer slid a pitcher of almond milk to her and Cinnia brought her a cup. “He’s mending?”
She emptied her cup and poured another dram. “Yes, though I sent Ambrose to him. That leg will be an agony while he heals, but at least he’s healing.”
Her father glanced at Cinnia before settling a steely gaze on her. “That’s good to know, because we need to talk.”
Louvaen paused with the cup halfway to her mouth. Mercer and Cinnia watched her like hawks on the hunt. Her skin prickled and she set the cup down with a thump. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Cinnia’s candied smile boded ill. “Papa just doesn’t want you living with him anymore.”
Mercer scowled at his younger daughter while Louvaen’s jaw dropped. “You’ve obviously been spending far too much time in your sister’s company,” he said in a voice guaranteed to wither flowers.
Cinnia blushed. “Sorry.”
He patted Louvaen’s hand and gave her a sheepish look. “What Cinnia is trying to say—in a surprisingly Louvaenish way—is when I return home, you don’t need to accompany me.” He coughed as her eyes widened even more. “You’re a capable woman, Louvaen. More than capable.”
“Overbearing.” Cinnia shrugged at the twin glares she received.
