“Why?”
“Because I can’t care for you properly until I do. I can’t know how to ease your pain, what to avoid, how to help you. A healer can’t cure what they don’t see, and your husband can’t soothe what you don’t share.”
Her breath hitched. “You’re not really my husband, you know.”
“I am,” he answered without hesitation. “You decided this, my Shiya. It’s done. Now tell me what happened to your grove.”
Alashiya leaned into him. “A rogue band of shifters came through. Rovers released from the army after the war. They were looking for a place to settle their little pack — or that’s what they said, at least. My grove welcomed them in, fed them, let them sleep in the barn. But they overstayed their welcome. Got pushy, then violent. When my parents and some of the others decided they had to go…”
Ice tipped into his veins. “What’d they do,metsalill?”
“They killed them.” Her fingers dug into the dense muscles of his back. A fine trembling ran down her spine. “It was so fast. I was in the kitchen with my grandma when it started. We all felt it as soon as the killing started. Everyone scattered to hide in thewoods, but most of them were hunted down. Just for fun, I think. It wasn’t like we had anything to steal or were any sort of threat.”
He could hardly get the words out, but he managed to ask, “What happened to you?”
“I hid in the place you found me,” she answered, soft and matter-of-fact. “I was so scared, and I could hear screams close by. So I dug deep and let the roots take me. I hibernated for days, until my grandparents managed to find me and convinced the forest to let me out again.”
A shiver ran through him. “Shiya…”
“Not everyone was killed by the shifters. Some of them were so damaged by the horror they chose never to come out again, or went into hibernation afterward, when the grief got too bad. The forest chose to keep them. That’s what happened to my mother. The forest made its choice and… and I never saw her again.”
Sickness churned in his stomach. He knew what slaughter looked like, and he knew the devastation couldn’t always be counted into carnage. Most often, the true cost was paid by those left behind.
Dreading the answer, he asked, “The forest isn’t just a hiding spot, is it?”
“No. It can hide us, it can sustain us, and if it chooses, it can end us.”
He closed his eyes. Swallowing hard, he grated, “The shifters. What happened to them?”
“We weren’t the only victims. They’d done it before, and they were caught not too long after they ran from here,” she answered. “Rangers got them. They’re gone.”
He wished it satisfied him. Even knowing how swift and brutal shifter justice tended to be, it didn’t make him feel any better.
Taevas wanted details. He wanted to know they suffered for what they’d done to Alashiya and her family. He wanted to avenge her like he’d avenged his parents and everyone else terrorized by Isand Jaak.
But he couldn’t. All he could do was take care of hernow.
“That’s enough,metsalill.I don’t need more.”Stroking his claws through her fragrant curls, he murmured, “Go lay down in our nest. I’ll clean up the dishes and then join you.”
She didn’t move right away. They lingered there for a while longer, their bodies swaying ever-so-slightly to the music of crickets just beyond the windows, until at last Alashiya’s arms fell away.
It pained him to let her go. Taevas pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Rest,” he breathed into the fine, wispy curls at the edge of her hairline. “I’ll be in soon.”
She nodded. Saying nothing, her eyes downcast, Alashiya stepped away from him. The feeling of loss was instant.
He watched her wrap her arms around herself, the extravagant sleeves of her golden robe trailing from her elbows, and slowly walk out of the kitchen. A queen in finery made of scraps, off to a nest on a floor.
A queen of memory. A queen who belonged to him.
He found her curled up in what had become his spot.
She’d changed into one of her pretty pleated nightgowns and tied her hair back in a loose braid. It snaked over the pillows in a thick, mahogany coil. Her back was to him, but he sensed that she was awake.
Dread was heavy in his gut. Exhaustion and pain made him crave the soft embrace of the nest, but it was the desire to shield her that propelled his steps across the darkened room. Taevas lifted the blankets and slid in behind her.
“Your wings, Taevas. You should lay on your stomach, not on your side,” she whispered in soft protest. Her voice was rough. Had she been crying? The faint scent of salt in the air made his chest clench.
He slipped his left arm around her waist and tucked his rightbeneath her pillow. “I would trade them for a chance to hold you without hesitation.”
