“I saw Reyla earlier.” If I was seeking a distraction from the images of Prenton dying, this wasn’t it, but I pressed on. “Brodine too. I tried the release spell that’s worked with a few of the creatures in paintings, but it didn’t make a difference with my friends.”
“I know you want to help them.” Vexxion tightened his grip around my waist and slid my hair to the side, kissing up the column of my neck.
Sighing, I closed my eyes, sinking into the wonder of his touch.
I felt hollowed out, empty of everything that made me Tempest. All that was left was a smoldering ache that wouldn’t dissipate. If I didn’t have Vexxion . . .
Well, I did. I’d hold onto him for as long as I could.
“I thought the spell might have worked with Reyla and Brodine,” I whispered. “I’m not sure why. I see them trapped like the creatures. The king placed them in the paintings; the king drained their power and trapped them within their physical frames. It makes sense in my mind. I thought for a moment that the spell did something, that Reyla was responding, but she slid back into the emptiness again. I kept trying, over and over.”
“I’ve sought them out as well. They’re still there. I know this. The key must be in removing their collars.”
I looked up at him. “You tried to help them too?”
He nodded, so solemn. Equally sad, though he barely knew them. He ached because I did, and that meant everything tome. My heart swelled, suddenly painfully full. I feared it might shatter with one more beat.
On top of it all, I bore the weight of my love for this man, a love unlike any other. I was saturated with love for him; it felt so heavy I feared my chest would burst. Beneath the heady feeling lurked a shadow, the dread of losing him like I had everyone else. It gnawed at the fringes of what little joy I’d grabbed from this world, threatening to unravel me from the inside out.
He was burdened with everything. I couldn’t pass this weight onto him as well, so I pushed it aside, locking it down tight beneath the wall I’d placed around my heart. I was strong. I could do this. I’d survived horrible things, and I’d find a way through whatever came next.
“I’m scared I’ll never have my friends back again,” I said, the starkness of my pain slicing through my words. “And then I realize it might not matter. I could be dead within days. It could be over. The king will win. I’ll lose. And life will go on as it is.”
He flicked his finger out, and water stopped gushing from the faucet. The tub brimmed and steam swirled and flowed across the surface like sprites dancing across a meadow at the break of a new day. It looked lovely, but it was hard to let the image sink beneath my quivering skin when my world was coated with a blanket of dismay.
The taint of Prenton’s ashes still coated my sinuses. I’d never get it out.
Vexxion swept me up and stepped into the tub, him fully clothed while I was completely, utterly naked in too many ways.
When he settled beneath the water, he laid me across hischest, tucking me gently against him with his arms wrapping around me.
The pendant he’d given me shifted between the shelter of my breasts.
“You’re getting your pretty blue tunic wet,” I said, my eyes stinging. Damn tears. Damn sadness. Each time I thought I’d moved past it, it would drag me back down into a realm I’d never escape from.
“I have other clothing.”
“You could be naked too.”
“I just want to hold you.”
“The king must need you.”
“He always does, but I don’t care. I’m here for you now and for always. I’m staying with you for as long as you need me. Fury.”
“I’ll always need you.” I sunk into him, sucking in his warmth, letting the water coast across my skin while his fingertips traced up and down my arms. He was magic, this wicked fae man. How could his simple words and his light touch make everything bad thin out long enough for me to sort through and toss most of it aside? “Doesn’t it feel odd to be sitting in a tub of water while fully clothed?”
“I’m holding you in my arms. Nothing’s odd about that. It’s the only place I want to be, love. Lay back. Close your eyes. I’m going to bathe you. Let me soothe your wounds.”
“He didn’t hit me with the blade.”
“He could’ve,” he growled.
“I deflected his attempt with my arm. I don’t think he had much training. It was a baby move. Anyone could’ve easilydisarmed him. I would’ve gutted him with his own blade if Madrood hadn’t charred him for me.”
“That’s another odd thing to consider.”
“I agree.”
