I pulled out the chair and sat, nostrils now filled with heavy spices. Steam wafted off the bowl, and I tore into a piece of bread, dipping it into the broth. One bite led to two, and soon I was slurping down the last of the contents, warming from the inside out.
When I finished, I went to that same cabinet and pulled out a shirt and pants for myself. Quickly changing, I tossed my dirty, damp trousers in front of the fire and returned to Sylaira. She hadn’t moved.
So I sat in a chair at her bedside, the storm still raging beyond the windows, and studied. Watched. Tried to discern the Goddess’s plan in making us mates.
Because I had to believe our Radiant Mother had a reason for binding us.
One that wasn’t an irrefutable punishment for all my sins.
19
Awareness returned to me in small, unsteady sips. First, a tingling in my fingers and toes drew me back to the land of the living. As more trickled in, a throbbing pain accompanied it. I groaned, the sound making my ribs ache.
My face scrunched up, and I forced one eye open, then another. Attention snapped into me when I noted the solid wood beams over my head. The next moment, something soft pressed into my backside.
Why am I in bed?
I tried to sit up, only to be jerked back by something cinching tight across my chest. Looking down, I found a strip of soft cloth tied around my torso, securing me in place.
A snort-snore had me whipping my head to the side. A male snoozed in a chair beside me, spectacles hanging off the end of his nose. His face was weather-worn and crinkled with age. And wholly unfamiliar.
Where am I?
I glanced to my other side, finding a wide window overlooking what appeared to be a small village. An adjacent house had curls of smoke coming from its chimney. The sound of children’s laughter filtered through the cracks of the roof overhead.
Where is the Issaraeth?
I tried to sit up again, only to be met with a searing bout of agony in my leg.
Memories slammed into me as I sank back. Running from my captor. Injuring myself. The mate bond snapping into place. The Issaraeth using his magic to force me to drink a potion.
Goddess damn it all.
A sob lodged in my chest. How long had it been since then?
“Oh good, you’re awake.”
The old male’s voice made me jump. I returned my attention to him, trying to banish the tears. He noted them anyway. “Do you need more pain medication?”
Without waiting for me to reply, he lifted a vial from somewhere nearby.
“Please, no. I don’t want to sleep anymore,” I pleaded, shrinking back.
He paused with the cork halfway out. “I can give you something else for the pain that won’t make you tired.”
“That would be better,” I said, hoping he spoke true. My knee fuckinghurtbut if I had to suffer so I didn’t slip away again, I would.
The male—a healer by my guess—grabbed another vial, this one clear instead of a milky purple like what my mate had given me. “I’ve had other patients complain about the taste of this one. If you need something to wash it down, I have that.”
I nodded and he approached, lifting my head and pressing the rim to my lips. After only a moment of hesitation, I gulped it down. The taste was bitter, and I spluttered as the healer pulled away. “That is awful.”
“Here,” he said, offering me a sip of citrus juice. Immediately, the foulness coating my tongue disappeared.
“Thank you,” I breathed, sinking back against the pillow. “Any reason I’m tied down?”
A small chuckle was his reply. “The Issaraeth didn’t trust you not to try to run while he was out. Didn’t trust me not to let you either.”
The words hit me harder than the restraints. Even injured and utterly helpless, he’d caged me. Again.
