“Just when she left a few moments ago, though…” Ivara trailed off, her brows knitting together in confusion.
“Though what?” Ambrose grunted, taking a step closer to her. There was an intensity in his voice that had a shiver shooting down my spine. It felt like he was hoping—pushing—for Ivara to tell him something that would pin me as Bramwell’s killer.
Ivara’s eyes cut to his, her face tight and full of unease. “I don’t believe she was quite awake. Her eyes were open, but they were blank and unseeing. I tried to stop her from leaving, but I couldn’t wake her. By the time I grabbed my robe and followed her out the door, she was gone.”
“Was this before or after Hale delivered my gift?”
My blood froze, my mind emptying. I had forgotten about Hale during the chaos in the dungeon. Hale, who not only met my gaze but also spoke to me and knew that I was awake and in my right mind before Ambrose found me.
Ambrose turned toward me when Ivara spoke, bringing his attention back to her. “It was before. I was the one who met Hale and brought the box into her room.”
Ambrose glared at Ivara, his nose curling in a sneer. “And you just sat here and waited for her to return while you drank fucking tea?”
“I figured she would return when she awoke from her stupor,” Ivara shrugged, tilting her head to the side. “Why? Did she cause any trouble?”
Ambrose released a sharp exhale and turned toward me, ignoring Ivara’s questions. “You will stay in your room until I call for you. Both of you,” he growled.
Ambrose swung the door open to leave the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. Ivara and I stood silent, watching to see if he would return to cause more trouble. When it was clear he wasn’t coming back, a wave of exhaustion crashed through me, almost making my knees buckle. Walking to the closet chair, I let my tired body collapse onto it.
“Are you okay?” Ivara asked, her voice soft. When I looked up, concern flashed across her face as she knelt in front of me.
“The queen,” I whispered, too afraid to speak any louder.
Ivara nodded knowingly. “Samian told me before he left. He went to check on her, so you don’t have to worry. She has lived averylong life and has survived worse than this. She will make it again.”
“It looked bad, though,” I said, unconvinced. “She was taken aback, almost as if she were in a daze as she stared at the wound.”
“Queen Cassia’s power is unique. Like Viv, she can see the future; however, it’s more than that. Viv can see only what Edris, the God of Fate, shows her. But the queen, she sees what Edris can. She has access to many possibilities, and more.”
“Does that make her a goddess of fate?”
“One could take it that way, but Cassia doesn’t see herself as one. Before you ask why, we don’t know. She loves keeping things to herself, despite everyone’s frustration. I like to think it's her way of having fun.”
Ivara flashed me a wide grin, and a soft laugh left my lips. Since meeting her, Ivara has always had a way of making me feel more at ease. It made me half wonder if she could be the third mate Queen Cassia mentioned, though my feelings toward her felt different from what I feel with Samian and Kieran.
“You’re not my third mate, right?” I raised a brow, forcing the words to sound playful, though I held my breath while I waited for her answer.
“Doyouthink I am?” Ivara asked, catching me in my ruse.
Sighing, I let my head fall back to the cushion of the chair. “No, not really. I do feel a pull towards you, but it’s not romantic. I feel like I’ve known you forever, though, like we have always been close friends.”
Ivara’s smile widened, looking every bit the powerful feline that she was. “Maybe we have, and you just don’t know it.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to figure out the meaning behind her words. However, before I could ask more about it, Samian strode into the room, his face grave. Standing from my chair, I rushed to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. My body relaxed into his as his arms circled me, pulling me in close.
“Is she okay?” I asked, my stomach twisting with dread. Ivara and Samian kept repeating that she would be okay, but they weren’t there. They didn’t see the daze she was in when she peered down at the ice shard.
“She’s…” Samian paused, weighing his next words. I could feel the tension building in his body and voice. “Alive. For now, at least.”
“What does that mean?” I said, pulling away from him enough to see his paling face. The muscles in his jaw feathered, his lips thinning.
“She wouldn’t allow me to heal her,” he breathed out sharply. “She is completely refusing my help. Anyone’s help, for that matter, saying the same fucking mystical bullshit that she always spews.”
Samian’s throat bobbed, his eyes gleaming with worry. I understood the fear and concern he felt; I’d lived it myself with my own mother. I’d sat by her side, holding her hand when we learned the cancer had returned. I’d swallowed my anger, even when I wanted to scream, as she chose to refuse treatment again. It was the hardest time of my life, and the anger and sadness written across his features were painfully familiar.
Clearing his throat, Samian gave me a small smile. “It’s alright, my light. She will be fine; she’s just being stubborn. Her healing abilities are slowed, but still working enough to keep her alive.”
My hands moved to his waist, gripping the sides of his shirt. “What do you mean her healing abilities are slowed?”
