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The second sentry swallows audibly, the metal of his helmet creaking with the effort. “Of course, Lord...?”
“Not a lord,” Tiernan says flatly. “Just the royal guard to the Prince and your heir.” The implication that he’s the one who’ll carve you into small pieces if you try anything, hangs in the air between them.
The first sentry tugs on a cord next to the door, and there’s the faint sound of a bell being rung from somewhere deep in the castle. “Of course, sir. The door will be unlocked for you, then.”
Of course they will; someone’s probably been in there rooting through our things for something to use against us.
Dezi makes a sound of frustration and pushes past the sentries into the hallway. The rest of us follow, ignoring the eyes tracking our movements with barely concealed emotions. Our suite looms at the end of the corridor, and for the first time since the trial, I feel a flicker of something besides exhaustion.
This is home for now, and I can take off the mask for a while.
My leopard turns the knob, but as soon as the door swings open, a blast of cold air slams into us. The guys don’t hesitate—they just pile in while Rev and Khol fan out to check the room without a word. Dezi scoops me up so I’m no longer exposed, but I’m too tired to complain about being manhandled. However, when I see the suite, all I can do is gape.
“It’s trashed,” I manage as I stare at the space. “More than when we left. Reset, my ass!”
The huge four-poster bed is on its side, but its posts are snapped clean through. Shredded sheets hang from the remaining two posters like tattered standards. The marble-topped dresser has a long, jagged crack running across its surface, and the mirror above it is a spider’s web of hairline fractures. Worst of all, there’s a scorch mark on the ceiling in the exact shape of my body, arms outstretched and fingers splayed.
“Is that from—” I start.
“—the magical feedback?” Dezi finishes as he sets me down gently. “Yes, it’s probably a remnant from when you completed the fight with the Worldroot. But the rest is… not.”
I remember the ultimate moments of the trial—the lightning crackling through my body, the tree’s power flowing into me, the world going white—but then my mind had been filled with the strange, hurtling knowledge that I wasn’t human after all. My entire life—my heritage, my family, my identity—had been a lie. And the response, as I’m now seeing, had been my new magic exploding in all directions.
At least, that’s what made the fucking mark on the ceiling.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, stepping further into the room. “Is this what happens whenever I get my back blown out? Should I be worried about the structural integrity of the next building I get big news in?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll warn our hosts next time,” Rev says with a faint smile as he nudges the door closed with his hip. “That way they’ll know that whenever you have an orgasm, everyone should stand back about fifty feet.”
“Shut up, asshole,” I tell him, but there’s no heat in it. “I’m just trying to process that I’m going to leave a trail of chaos behind me, and all you can do is crack jokes.”
“I find it hot,” Khol says, his voice slurring a little at the edges. He’s braced against the wall next to the minibar, a fresh drink already in his hand. “At least your ‘special’ moments make a statement. When I shifted for the first time, I threw up all over my fucking shoes. I was a kid, of course, but it was embarrassing all the same.”
This startles a laugh out of me, which is a minor miracle given my exhaustion level. “That’s disgust—”
I don’t get to finish because the laugh triggers another ripple of pain down my spine, and my marks flare again. This time, they don’t settle back to their previous state but remain brighter than before, lighting the corner of the room like a beacon. I hiss through my teeth, my hand coming up to rub at the knot of muscle between my shoulder blades.
Shit. Maybe the magical pain relief is wearing off.
“Witchling,” Dezi says, his voice tight with something I can’t quite place. He’s at my side in an instant, his cool hands coming up to the bare skin of my arms. The touch is gentle, but I can feel the tension in his fingers. “You need to rest. Now.”
“I’m fine—”
“You’re not,” Tiernan says. “We’ll deal with the intrusion tomorrow, and whatever else needs handling. Right now, we need to let our bodies and our powers have time to heal themselves.”
The leopard kicks aside some of the debris and now stands with his hands on his hips, surveying the damage with a practiced eye. “We’re all in varying degrees of ‘not fine’”. He gestures at Khol, who’s slumped, and the prince. “The basilisk is finishing his shed. You’re trying to keep it together because you think you have to set an example. Rev’s about to fall over where he stands. I have no idea about our vampire, but surely he’s tired as well.”
I want to argue, but the words die on my lips when I see the way Revelin’s swaying in place, his eyes at half-mast. The lights in the room flicker slightly with the movement, as if even his magical reserves are running on empty.
“Fine,” I say, my voice so soft I barely recognize it. “But I will not sleep in a room that looks like a bomb went off in it.”
Dezi’s hand comes to the small of my back. “The bed’s still intact enough to use,” he says, nodding at a mess of linens and wood in the corner. “We can salvage enough to get through the night, and in the morning, the staff will handle the rest.”
The thought of climbing between those sheets, knowing what we did in them just hours before, should make me blush. But I’m too fucking tired to be anything but grateful for a horizontal surface right now. I start for the bed, but my knees buckle almost immediately—only Dezi’s preternatural reflexes keep me from ending up in a heap on the floor.
“Not so fast, Sassypants,” Rev says, suddenly right there with his hand under my elbow. “Let’s get you undressed first.”
Any other time, that sentence would lead to something completely different from what actually happens next. The four of them close in—Khol tugging my boots off my feet, Tiernan working at the fastenings of my new outfit, and Rev pulling the sword from my belt. I stand there, swaying slightly, and let them work. The clothes—the court dress I’d put on to meet the royals—fell away as if they’re made of air. With each piece that’s removed, I feel another layer of strain lift from my bones.
