“And what would you have me do? Hmm?” I whirl on him, anger getting the best of me. “Isabelle is here to help this kingdom. Others may feel fine withlocking their wives away in a fancy tower, but I will not be one of those husbands. She will not be caged here like a prized lamb.”
Garvan backs up, holding his hands in front of him as a symbol of surrender. “I mean no offense, my lord. These are trying times. I know we are desperate to seek answers, but?—”
“But nothing,” I interrupt. His voice grates on my last nerves. “A king will do whatever it takes to save his people. As will his queen. The way you seek to lock us in the shadows and hope for the best further proves you aren’t and will never be cut out to do my job.”
The words cut deep as intended. Garvan flinches. Anger clouds his features, and his breathing speeds up. Part of me wants him to fight back. I would welcome an outlet for my emotions. But ever the proper courtier, he schools his expression into the loyal lap dog he is.
“Of course, my lord. This is why you are king. You know best, after all.” Garvan’s jaw clenches as he takes a step back. His heated gaze bores into me, even as I turn back around just in time to see Zain take her hands off my wife.
The demon turns her head in my direction and nods once. “The queen suffers from a mild case of vasovagal syncope.”
“In plain language.”
“It’s common. Especially in humans. It causes the person to faint after the body has gone through severe emotional distress. She will wake soon, but she’ll need to eat and drink plenty of fluids. She may also experience a headache or nausea.” Zain digs for something in hercoat, producing a vial of green liquid. “This will help the queen if she’s experiencing intense headaches or fatigue.”
I take the tonic from Zain’s hand, pocketing it. “Very well. Have the kitchen prepare a meal and send up a pitcher of water.”
Zain nods and takes her leave, along with the other demon assisting her. Garvan still lurks behind me but soon moves from his position. “Anything else you need, my lord? What should I tell the others who heard your call for aid?”
“Tell them their queen is healing. That she spoke with a monster today and survived. Oh, and Garvan?” I turn in time to see him take a step closer to the door. “If you ever question what I allow my wife to do again, there’s a Nephilim downstairs that could use a cell mate.”
His features don’t change, but there’s a sudden stiffness in the way he holds himself. He bows low before meeting my gaze again. “Of course, my lord.” Garvan turns and leaves Isabelle’s room.
Another time, I may reflect on wounding the pride of my closest courtier, but that isn’t today. I drag a wooden chair next to Isabelle’s bedside and perch myself upon it.
And then I wait.
For food.
For water.
For Isabelle to regain consciousness and throw insults in my direction. Then and only then will the heaviness in my chest disperse.
Chapter 19
Isabelle
My body feels like it’s been hit by a tractor and then backed over for good measure. I woke a few times, only for food and water to be pushed in front of me. A rather growly demon forced me to eat soup—which I hate—but then let me sleep after. And sleep I did. It was the type of dreamless sleep that makes you disoriented when you finally awaken from it.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but when I open my eyes this time, moonlight filters through the black curtains. The window is cracked, but instead of the usual sounds of night critters, all I hear is the crackling of the fire. It’s eerie. Like the entire kingdom is in a great slumber alongside me.
My body still aches, but it’s no longer debilitating like it was before. I manage to awkwardly push myself into a sitting position, my back against the headboard. Despite the fire and mounds of woolen blankets, I stillfind myself cold. Shivering, I tug the blankets up to my shoulders.
“Need another one?”
I scream. My body jerks, and my head hits the headboard with a loud thud. “Fuck,” I groan and fiercely rub the back of my head.
Soft laughter greets me, caressing my senses like a silky touch. I know that damn laugh.
When I turn my head slightly, Oziel’s stupidly handsome face greets me. He’s smirking because of course he is. Despite his teasing smile, there are dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes are unkempt. He’s usually put together, but now he looks disgruntled and tired.
“Do you make it your job to scare me?” I frown.
“Scare you? Miss Sinclair, it’s not my fault you don’t check your surroundings when you wake up. It’s not as if I hid in the shadows, waiting for you to wake.”
The way he says it has me thinking that’s exactly what he did. “How long have you been here?”
“Hmm, let’s see. I was born here centuries ago?—”
