I scanned my body as I recollected my thoughts. The ballroom. Masquerade. The attack of Marcèllian. Betrayal of Saundeiah. Tears stung my eyes, and I let them fall. I’d been attacked and almost died. I shouldn’t be here.
The angel Marcèllian... My shoulders shook. I hated admitting I feared anything, but that angel terrified me. He’d come with boneravens and bloodhounds. What if he came again, but with the Ivory Rain? I shuddered at the thought, desperately wishing Tassarion were here. I feared for myself, our constituents, and our home.
“I thought I told you I had it handled.”
Tassarion’s deliciously low and gruff voice curled through my mind, wrapping lovingly around my hearts. He sounded exhausted, yet surprisingly close. As if he was in the manor. In our lair.
“Because I am.”
I jerked my head up and found Tassarion already stripping off his crown before tossing it carelessly onto the velvet settee in the front of the bedchamber.
“Are you insane?”
I shot out of the bedcloud, snatching the crown in the air before it landed. I flew to the vanity with the cases that held his crown... and my tiaras. Blushing, I looked at the ornate circlets. I still hadn’t found the gall to wear them besides during the masquerade.
I turned back to Tassarion.
My jaw dropped.
“Tassarion,”I whispered down the bond.
The king was battered as if he’d been in battle. His shoulders bowed as his wings hung limp. His hair, face, leathers, and boots were all covered in fresh blood. And his cape was filthy. My wingmate looked beyond the brink of exhaustion. My only consolation was that the blood on his leathers were more black than gold.
“Emélie,” he said out loud.
I could hear the strain in his voice.
The energy it took to utter a single word.
I raced towards him, placing my hands on his cheeks.
“How?” He looked at me, too tired to say more.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, shaking my head while noting the recent scars along his face and neck. “I woke up and felt better than ever. My pain, fatigue, and wounds are mostly gone.”
Tassarion blinked at me in awe before lowering his forehead to mine. We remained like that for a while until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Amouré.”
“Yes, Everheart,” he groaned.
“You stink like the Hèls.”
Tassarion flinched, stumbling back. Fresh energy woke him up, snapping him out of the lull of fatigue as he processed what I’d just said. Then he tossed his head back, roaring with laughter.
“Nahomie,” he wheezed, the sound of my name only making him laugh harder. He sounded hysterical.
Sleep.
He desperately needed sleep.
But he sure as all rot wasn’t getting into our bed without washing up first. I took one of his large hands in both of mine and began dragging him to our washing chamber.
“Come on.”
When we reached the doorway, I made him pause. Quickly, I unlatched his cape, pulling it off. The stench of blood and decay made me gag, but I tried my best to keep a straight face. I tossed the cape in a heap in the corner. The thing would have to be burned.
I bent down and unlaced Tassarion’s boots before I helped him kick them off. My nose hairs burned at the stench coming out of those boots.Rot. The boots had to go, too. I tore off his socks and tossed them into the pile. His tunic was removed, and that went into the pile, too.
