I needed to slow my breathing and lower my heart rate. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat to tell him I was fine, because I didn’t want to be a bother. But, realizing I was not, and with my own cheeks heating, I admitted, “I could use the lavatory if one is available.” And I was starving, but that was a lesser priority.
His eyes widened in understanding before he started to stand and then froze. “I could take you to the restroom, or I could bring you a bedpan.”
The sheer horror that rolled through me at the thought of using abedpanin front of this shockingly handsome man—to whom I was not only a stranger but alsonewly married—was indescribable. “No, no,” I practically wheezed out, trying to reassure him without choking on my embarrassment. “The restroom is great.” I was going to perish right here of mortification.
Victor stood from his chair, helping me to pull my blankets back. My injured arm was wrapped in white gauze, and I was wearing a simple, pale-colored nightgown I’d never seen before—it certainly wasn’t something I’d brought with me. It wasn’t even cut in a style I was familiar with.
“What is this?” I asked, feeling the loose weave of the soft fabric at my collarbone with my fingertips.
“The dwarves call it a shift,” he explained. “It’s worn for sleeping. I had to make some adjustments for your wings.”
“You—” I started dumbly, unsure of how to finish my question without simply repeating him. I reached behind me to feel at the back of the garment.
“I cut some slits,” he said, his cheeks flaming an even deeper shade of pink than before. “I don’t know how to sew, but Brishta is working on some other shifts for you.”
He had modified my nightgown himself? I couldn’t tell if I was bemused or incredibly charmed. It occurred to me that he had probably been the one to dress me. I supposed he was—technically—my husband, so my bashfulness was probably misplaced in that aspect and would need to be done away with entirely once we consummated our marriage. But… didn’t he have any lady’s maids to do such things for him?
But then I remembered that his lady’s maids wouldn’t be fae, and I cringed at the thought of having someone else handling my wings. If I could just put them away… I struggled to shift into my wingless form, but nothing happened. Changing forms required energy and that was something I was in short supply of, regardless of the fact that I had been sleeping for who knows how long.
Victor helped me to sit up and I noticed his own clothing appeared to be made from the same material as mine, just in a tighter, finer weave. His white shirt buttoned up the front but was cut in a casually loose style, and his dark trousers were similarly casual in appearance. He began to lift me from the bed, but I quickly assured him I was fine. Having him this close to me made my heart beat too fast and my head swim. I tried to tell him that, if he could just direct me to where I could refresh myself, I could walk there on my own. It only took me half a step to realize that the floor was coming at me entirely too fast and this was absolute folly on my part. Icould notwalk there on my own. Luckily for me, his reactions were much faster than mine, and he had me cradled in his arms before I became unceremoniously acquainted with the woolen rug. He didn’t utter a word of chastisement.
The lavatory was simple but sufficient, and small enough that I could hold onto the wall for the time that I required some privacy, though it was far colder in here than it had been in his bedroom next to the fire. He was waiting for me when I opened the door again.
“I had some food brought up,” he told me and then gently lifted me back into his arms, as carefully as if I were a porcelain doll. “Do you think you can eat?”
“I’m famished,” I admitted as he tucked me back into the bed. Had he been sleeping here with me?
Victor nodded. “You haven’t had anything but broth for the last several days, and not much of that.” I marveled at the grace with which he moved when he paced to a tray that had been set up next to the door and began lifting lids from the dishes. “I wasn’t sure what you would eat, so the cook sent up a variety of options.”
“Anything is fine,” I assured him.
He lifted an eyebrow as if to challenge me, but I’d been raised in the royal courts. We weren’t allowed to have preferences, lest we risk offending a host on a diplomatic visit or while under public scrutiny at any of the numerous festivities. I’d been sent to bed without a meal many nights as a child until I learned to eat what was placed in front of me. It probably took me longer than it should have to learn my lesson, on account of Cook leaving out my favorite pastries for me to steal after everyone else had gone to bed. She could never abide a hungry belly. It was a good lesson, though, and had served me well at many public engagements. Food was fuel. Something to sustain us without being lingered over or quibbled about.
He peeked at a few more dishes and then lifted the entire tray, carrying it over to me and setting it on the other side of the bed. Sliding it closer to me, he climbed onto the bed next to me, sitting with one leg bent under him and began to explain the dishes. “This one is a morning pudding,” he said, “and this is stewed cherries. There’s toasted bread, curds, and I requested some meat too in case you eat that.” He picked up the lid for the last one and replaced it much quicker than he had the other ones.
“You don’t like it?” I guessed. He didn’t answer except for a lightning-fast wrinkling of his nose, but then it was gone.
I promptly burst into laughter before I caught myself, utterly fascinated by his reaction.
His eyes flashed to mine, something sparkling in the depths, I thought, but I couldn’t be sure before his gaze dropped back to the tray. He eventually lifted the bowl of pudding from the tray and handed it to me. “See if this agrees with you.”
I accepted the dish and a spoon and ate a bite, feeling shy about eating in front of him while he watched me so intently. The pudding was hot, and rich, and I was so hungry that I nearly inhaled the next few bites. It got harder to support myself in a sitting position very abruptly, though, and my weakness became more evident when even holding the spoon up became too much for me.
“May I help you?” he asked, gently removing the dish from my hand and filling the spoon again for me.
“You don’t have to do that. I just need to rest a bit, I think,” I hedged, trying to ignore the hunger still gnawing at my insides.
“I’ve been doing it with broth since we got here. I don’t see how pudding is all that different,” he said lightly as he lifted the spoon to my mouth.
He had been… feeding me? While I slept? A strange affection flooded through me when I tried to picture this large and mysterious man attempting to coax broth into my mouth and cutting openings in my nightgown for my wings. I realized that he was waiting for me to open my mouth when he looked up from my lips and I quickly opened it to accept the food. Hot, sweet deliciousness flooded my mouth, and I couldn’t help but give him a grateful smile while I swallowed, but all he did was continue to watch my face and retrieve another bite.
Chapter 10
Celeste
WhenInextwoke,it was to darkened windows and a low-burning fire in the fireplace. The room was empty again, but I double-checked the chair beside me to verify that there was indeed no one in it this time. I nearly came out of my skin again when Victor rose from the window seat on the far side of the room. Was I simply not able to see him well when he was sitting still or something?
He froze when I screeched like a wild animal, his eyes wide. “Sorry.”
