“Does she really?” Myron asked with genuine curiosity.
“Yes, I think she knows and sees things that humans, and even some fae, remain blind to. She spent a lot of time in the forest as a child—still does, as she told me. I’ve even invited her to commune with me so I can teach her the Mother’s language, not just the feel of her. That’s how she experiences it,” he explained, and I had to give him credit for the accuracy with which he relayed our conversation.
“Guys,” Tarrin said, the word dripping with annoyance, “this is fascinating and all, but Nyleeria is lying over there in what looks like a catatonic state, with similar markings on her body as before. Can we please help the poor woman instead of having a philosophical conversation about how the Mother works in mysterious ways?” Sarcasm dripped from every word, but he delivered the question seriously in a way only he could pull off.
“Right,” Myron said. “I can heal her again, going deeper this time.”
I groped blindly for Fiora.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Fiora said soothingly as she stroked my hair.
With great effort, I looked up at her, a plea in my eyes—the movement making my body go into another fit of convulsions.
“Myron,” Fiora said, “you can’t go deep.”
“Okay,” he relented, “I won’t, but I can put her in a dreamless state for a few hours to help heal past what my magic can do and give her mind a rest,” he explained. “Mind you, someone will have to stay and watch over her. I’ve never seen dreams manifest like this. I want to make sure she is okay.”
“I’ll stay,” Nevander offered.
I don’t know why, but more than anything, I wanted it to beFiora. I squeezed her hand, a silent question. She smiled at me, and said, “No, I’ll take care of her.”
And at that, Myron’s familiar power gathered around him and ushered me to sleep.
Later, I awoke, finding Fiora next to my bed in one of the chairs from the sitting area. She put down her book and smiled at me.
“Hello, sweet child. How are you feeling?”
“Okay.” The word came out as a squeak.
Fiora flicked her hand, and a droplet of water about the size of a fist appeared and floated before me. Too tired to be as mesmerized as I should’ve been, I sat up and softly cupped the water. Bringing it to my lips, I greedily drank it like the last dregs of soup in a bowl until it was gone.
I smiled, looking to Fiora. “I could get used to this,” I said, loving the casual use of magic.
“I believe you could, Nyleeria. I think Myron is right in that our realm was born for you.”
“I’m not really sure what that means.”
“You will one day, I suspect.”
“Thank you for staying with me, and for defending my privacy,” I added, a little embarrassed.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Nyleeria. King Thaddeus would make a fine lover, even for fae standards, by the looks of him,” she said with a knowing smile.
My eyes shot up. “How did you know it was him?” I asked, fully giving myself away if she’d only guessed it.
She laughed, the soft sound caressing me. “I was the first fae to enter this room, and the smell was, well, to put it delicately, strong. I let the breeze cleanse it from the air and threw a glamor over you and the king to hide the scent. I might have to let it stay over you, though; I’m not sure a bath will suffice.” She crinkled her nose.
“He said the same thing last night,” I said, and a shiver ran down my spine as I remembered what Amos had said about the king’s scent.
“Who did?” Fiora asked, looking confused.
“Amos. Well, in my dream. So, I guess it was my own figment, then,” I said, feeling stupid for treating the dream like reality.
“Information that you didn’t know presented itself through Amos in your dream?” There was a sharpness to her voice that made me go on alert.
“Yes. Why?”
“Was anything else revealed in this vision of yours?”
