I’m vaguely aware of the sound of voices and rumbling thunder, but the pain consumes me.
I black out again.
When I finally come around, I blink hard. My eyes are leaden, and they struggle to stay open. My head pounds, but I’m not as weak as one should be from the amount of blood I lost. My ribs are wrapped in linen, and I’ve sunken down into a very soft bed covered in thick pelts. I don’t recognize this room. I sit up quickly and hiss at the tug of skin on my injured side.
The room is cozy, with wood paneling on the walls and ceiling. Thick, blue, velvet curtains are drawn closed, obscuring my ability to tell what time of day it is. The crackle of wood in the stone fireplace draws my attention to the wall on my right, and that’s when I see Lachlan sprawled in a high-back, cushioned chair.
His neck is tilted at an uncomfortable angle, and his face is scrunched deeply in worry even while he sleeps. My eyes sting, and I swallow hard to push past the lump forming down my throat.
My audible attempts at swallowing rouse him from sleep.His eyes find mine, and his face radiates pure, unadulterated relief at seeing me alive.
My heart stutters at his unexpected joy.
He must’ve put in an astonishing amount of work to keep me on this side of the ground.
“How long was I out?” I croak.
My mouth is dry, and my throat burns when I try to push out the words. He stands abruptly, crossing the room to the water ewer in the corner, pouring me a glass before sitting on the side of the bed and handing it to me.
“Just a day.” He sighs, staring at me like a blind man, seeing for the first time.
The elation in his gaze causes my heart to gallop in my chest. I gulp down the water. The coldness soothes the burning in my throat and the warmth blooming in my chest.
“Where are we?” I glance around the room.
“Someplace safe.”
His hand rests atop mine, and he absently traces circles on the back of my hand. The tattooed wings stretch down from his neck to his wrist, rippling around his forearm at the movement.
I nod, relief coursing through me as I ease back onto the pillows. Lachlan takes the glass from my hand, sets it on the side table, and then begins fluffing the pillows behind my back. I try to smother the smirk that blooms at the gesture, mother hen.
He takes a moment before looking back at me. “Can ye tell me what happened? Do ye remember anything?”
Images of Odessa and Julius as they decide to attack me flicker through my mind. But it’s not fear that taints my memories with an unnatural shade of crimson; it’s rage.
I swallow down the venom bubbling up. “I was supposed to practice two-on-one maneuvers with Julius and Odessa. It was going fine until I started seeing things before they happened. My body started shimmering with golden light, and Odessa said it was my power manifesting and asked what I could do.”Lachlan goes rigid. “Julius said something about how they can’t let that happen, and then they started attacking me.” I shudder at the memories. “They were going to kill me. Odessa managed to get me disarmed, and they bragged—” My voice cracks.
“They bragged that they killed my parents.” Anger collides with my sorrow to create an unholy storm of emotions threatening to spill over. “I was disarmed and enraged. I had no other options, so I reached for the—” I stop speaking abruptly and begin urgently looking around the room.
Lachlan stands and pulls the ax from behind the chair.
“Ye pulled the ax,” he says softly, wonder and pride in his gaze as he looks at me.
I sink back onto the bed. “I prayed to Odin to help me avenge my parents, and pulled the ax from the tree. Odessa fled for reinforcements, and then Julius attacked. I used the ax to block his blow, and it rebounded from the hilt so forcefully it knocked him to the ground, and then he fled.” I finish telling him, leaving out the part where I chose to run to him.
But he reads my mind.
“Then ye ran to me,” he finishes, grinning broadly at me.
I pout, crossing my arms over my chest before mumbling, “I didn’t really have any other options.”
He snorts, but the fabric underneath my crossed arms catches my attention. I pull at the cropped cotton tank that exposes my midriff and the wrapped linen around my torso that’s holding my wound together.
“Who changed me?” I ask, looking up at Lachlan.
His ears redden, and he rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “We, uh, couldn’t get to your wound with your leathers on.”
“We?” I shriek.
