He sounded so muddled, and tired. “You should have better,” he said. “They didn’t give you a wedding dress. The dress it…didn’t even fit you.”
Of all the details for him to remember. I tasted tears on my lips. “I don’t care about that,” I croaked. “I didn’t even mind when you cut it to pieces.”
“You should have been given a dress.”
I bowed my head over his, kept my voice steady. “I just want my groom. I don’t care about the rest.”
A hand touched my shoulder. Gernaz, I think. The one that didn’t speak Common. He said something, and my magic, sluggish, brought together the words. They were going to move him.
Just this morning I had been the one weak and needing his arm. Now I moved with the knot of warriors, leaning on rails and trees when I could. At some point Vrathgar saw I was falling behind and pushed me in front of him. “You’re not safe yet, Baron’s daughter,” he muttered, and I wondered if I was supposed to understand his words. I wondered why I still could, and realized I was clinging to the bands of magic so tightly that I didn’t know how to let go, even while it felt I was draining everything away. Was I stronger than I’d been last time? Was I holding on longer, or was I going to go to pieces again and be no good for anybody? This part of me was so difficult to control. If I wasn’t flinging power like a child, I was holding onto it too tightly. All these years, and I was still that girl in the slums who couldn’t keep anyone safe.
The little house in the tree was full now, Khal’s shield-brothers shouldering through to bring water, to start the fire. And I was a ghost in the corner, no idea where I fit, what I could even do, leaning against a wall as much because my strength was failing as because I should stay out of the way. Gnarlak met my eyes, from the mass. “Let Khal’s wife sit with him and hold his hand. I’m sure he’d rather that than sweet nothings from Hagmar.” They let me through.
I noted, through the haze, that their faces didn’t look like they hated me anymore.
“Rowena?” Khal murmured. His voice was hoarse, and I took a cup from one of the others, held it for him to drink.
“I’m here,” I got out. His eyes found me. “Stay awake untilGnarlak says you’re safe, please. I need you.” I hoped he couldn’t hear my voice crack.
He drank till he’d finished the cup.
“Hot, sweet liquids,” said Gnarlak. “No liquor just yet.” My magic was still holding.
I clasped Khal’s hand in mine. I had worried it would be cold. I was so afraid it would be cold, that we had done something wrong, that the stitches wouldn’t hold or the moss wouldn’t help.
“Rowena,” he said. “You’re safe. They let…you in.”
I wanted to cry, to scream, but I bowed my head over his, let my hair fall on his shoulder. “You have to stay alive. You have to make me yours, or it’s for nothing.”
“One step…at a time. They can’t make me do anything while I’m cut like this.”
I felt emotion press hot in my chest, my head. “If you let her hurt you to avoid sleeping with me, Khal Drazha's-son, I’m going to…”
He was laughing. He flinched from the pain of the movement, and he was still laughing.
“This is not funny.”
“No, it is, I…my mother is good at swords. I did not let her…do anything. I promise.” He was smiling at me. “She’s just good at swords.”
“You’re good at swords.”
“Thank you, but I fight…monsters. The creatures I fight…don’t carry a blade.”
I accepted another warm cup from one of his comrades, and he drank from my hands. The others seemed less worried, more sure. I felt myself calming as they calmed, trusting that perhaps these people knew the dangers, that if they trusted I could too.
When Khal had drained the cup he looked at me. He hadn’t really stopped looking at me. “Thank you,” he said, “for leaving the fight to me.” The drink left a sheen on his lips.
“It’s alright,” I forced out. “I didn’t think…you’d want me to cook your mom.”
Someone else in the room laughed, a strangled chortle. Khal just smiled. “Thank you.” The blinking of his eyes was getting slower, the drowsiness catching up to him. I looked to Gnarlak. He hadn’t signaled that it was safe. I needed to keep him awake.
“Next time someone tries to hurt you,” I blurted out, “I’m going to kill them again. You belong to me.” I was saying nonsense, but his eyes opened again.
“Alright,” he said.
“Alright?” My heart stuttered.
“Alright.” His eyes started closing again, and I leaned in and kissed his mouth.
