Alexus’s mark. His seal.
These are his chambers.
Carefully, I slip my hand into the slit at the neck of my gown and touch the mark that burned itself into my body, branding Alexus’s name onto my bones. It’s part of me now, much as my soul. On that path in the wood, he’d awoken enough of his magick to create a link between us, keeping me in the here and now. He gave me something to hold onto in my darkest hour. Someoneto hold onto. Because of him, I’d been strong enough to straddle two worlds.
I return the seal and ghost my hand across an old iron key on a longleather strap, as well as an unrolled scroll, feeling the soft rise of Old Elikesh words Alexus must’ve begun writing some time ago. The ink is dry, the table a little dusty from disuse. I don’t recognize the handwriting, of course, but its elegance calls to me. Surely it’s his.
There’s a tunic draped over the chair. I touch it. Hold it to my nose. Take a deep breath. Everything smells like him, that scent of rich spices, dark wood, and the sweet aroma of ancient magick.
I turn back to the bed. Even the linens smell of him, and not just because he’d lain with me for a while. But because that bed knows his body intimately. It makes me want to curl back up and never leave.
I pluck a newly bound book with a Tiger’s Eye affixed to the cover from his desk and clutch it to my chest. He reads and writes. Things I would’ve possibly guessed but didn’t know for certain. There’s still so much to learn about him, and I want that chance, scared as that makes me.
At the window, I stare over a sliver of snowy village that has fallen quiet for the night. One could almost think nothing happened here if this were the only perspective. The many white rooftops and smoke curling from chimneys remind me of home.
But lovely and serene as the scene may appear, if I turn to the left, the tops of the stables and granary are also visible, burned to nothing but wooden skeletons during the attack. I remember the destroyed main gate, the bodies and ashes strewn across the courtyard and battlements when we arrived, and at least a dozen wounded Witch Walkers being cared for in the main hall when Alexus carried me inside.
Thoughts arise, my mind speculating on the worst scenarios. I don’t want to imagine the destruction that took place, the way fire had to dominate ice. I don’t want to think about more bloodshed, much less look its damage in the eye, but I should go downstairs and see how I can be of use with the injured. Try to find Alexus. Nephele. Hel.
Before I can turn around to do so, a deep voice fills the room. “Do you like books?”
Startled, I face my visitor. Alexus stands in the doorway, watching me, leaning his long body against the frame. One booted foot crosses the other, his cloak hanging over his arm. I never heard the door open, too lost in my thoughts.
My stomach ties itself into a knot. I’ve seen the sadness he wears before, that forlorn expression when he returned from Littledenn at the stream. I don’t know where he’s been today or what he’s faced with the people of Winterhold, but it has affected him deeply.
He pushes off the molding and steps across the threshold, closing the door behind him. I swallow hard when the lock clicks and he tosses his cloak on a chair, then moves deeper into the room.
My heart hammers. I haven’t answered him, and I’m still clutching one of his books to my chest. I slip it under my arm, shrug like a fool, and find my words.
“I love books,”I sign.“Though there are not many in the vale.”
A cloud drifts over his face, one of guilt, his eyes aglow in the firelight as he passes the hearth.
“I thought I might be needed,”I continue, trying to make the discomfort between us evaporate, though I’m aware that most of that discomfort is coming from me.“For healing,”I add.“I was going to check downstairs. FindNephele and Hel.”
“Nephele checked on you an hour ago, but you were still asleep. She’s resting now. Everyone is resting. If you’re up to mending cuts and burns in the morning, well enough, but it’s best if we give the castle time to grieve and rest tonight.” He sits on the edge of the bed closest to me, runs his palms down his leather-clad thighs, and lets out a sigh. “Come here. Please.”
I press the book to my chest like a shield. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. We’ve hardly left one another’s side since the attack. I’ve lain in that bed with him. I’ve kissed him. Touched him. Let him touch me.
And I crave him.
Yet I’m terrified to let myself have him.
Slowly, I go to him. He looks at me with those bold, green eyes and reaches for the book still clasped to my body. Finally, I let go, and he sets it aside on the bed. His gaze travels over me, and I’m suddenly aware that my thin gown hides little.
Alexus settles his strong hands on my hips and drops his forehead to my chest, his grip on me tightening. Tears rush up inside me for reasons I can’t explain, a well-erected dam threatening to yield. He’s said so little, yet I feel his grief, his worry, his fear, hiswantseeping into me.
I slide my hands into his hair, and he meets my eyes again, his stare glassy.
“We need to talk, Raina.”
Those are not the words I wanted to hear.I want you. I need you. Let me have you.Those were the things I’d hoped he’d say.
He touches my neck and slides his fingertips along my throat, sending a hard chill tumbling down my spine. He tugs the thin fabric of my gown aside, revealing the rune he cut into my body. Tenderly, he presses his warm lips to the skin just below the wound.
It takes my breath, that kiss. The reverence. The connection.
He pushes my hair behind my ear. “I’ve worried all day that you might hate me for this.”
