Chapter Thirty
Cadence
Something stirred at the edge of my awareness.
Not a sound, but… sensation. Warmth against the cool air.
Fingers, calloused but reverent, brushed the exposed flesh at the small of my back. My limbs felt too heavy to move, so I let the sensation anchor me, easing the last of the pain.
My lashes fluttered, and the world came into focus in hazy fragments.
Soft light peeked between the curtains, and I could smell the muted scent of herbs.
The faint creak of timber bled into the quiet rustle of fabric before the lingering touch at the base of my spine stole my attention once more.
Fingers traced farther up my back as though someone was memorizing the shape of me with their hands.
My breath caught in my throat, shallow and uncertain, as if my body wasn’t convinced I was truly alive.
The sensation stopped.
“Cadence?”
The voice was raspy and rough, as if sleep had become a distant memory.
I knew that voice.
“Ryker?”
The mattress dipped beside me, and I felt the heat of his presence before I saw him. My vision sharpened, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the shadow of stubble across his jaw. His dark eyes searched mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten.
“You’re awake.”
It wasn’t a question, but something fragile lingered in his tone, as though he feared I might slip away again.
I tried to sit up, but my muscles locked as my joints screamed in protest. I inhaled a sharp breath, and Ryker’s hand found my shoulder, steadying me.
“Don’t move.” His command was soft, but desperation curled the edges. “You’ve been unconscious for three days.”
Three days.
The words hit me like icy water. Flashes of memory rushed back: the trials, the searing pain, the way everything went white and then black. I shook my head, forcing my eyes to focus, taking in the unfamiliar room.
The walls, though uneven with the charm of old craftsmanship, were warm and inviting. Their wooden texture glowed in the filtered light, giving the space a quiet serenity, as if they had absorbed years of peace and whispered memories.
A single window framed the golden morning, casting sun-dappled patterns across the floor. Everything was small, close, intimate, but not confining. Rather, it was comforting.
“Where —” my voice cracked. I swallowed hard before trying again. “Where are we?”
“My mother’s cottage. She used to bring us here as children to escape the enormity of the palace.” Ryker’s eyes softened, warmth flickering in them as though he was remembering something that once made him whole.
But the softness vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar wall of controlled indifference.
“Odette wasn’t sure if you would wake up.” His jaw clenched as he studied me. “Your body went into shock. All the injuries you sustained in the trials, coupled with the poison…”
His voice trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.
“I’m fine.”
“Fine?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Cadence, you were convulsing. Your heart stopped beating.”
Ryker shook his head, then he slipped his arms beneath me, gently flipping me over and helping me sit against the headboard. It was then that I realized I wore nothing but my skin. Ryker’s gaze lingered on my exposed breasts, and I grabbed the sheet to cover myself.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” he said, a chuckle lacing his words.
“What happened after…” I waved my hand over my body, as if that was explanation enough.
“Once Odette finished working on you, I slipped into the shadows and brought you here. I didn’t want to stay within the palace while you were so weak. I couldn’t risk anything happening to you.”
Ryker pursed his lips as though he was trying to contain his anger.
“And Callum?”
“He will be fine. My brother is watching him.”
I nodded, trusting Riordan to keep him safe.
Ryker’s earlier words came back to me. We were at his mother’s cottage. Just the two of us. No servants, no guards, no nosy courtiers. The intimacy of it should have terrified me, but something deep in my chest unfurled.
When my gaze returned to Ryker’s, I found him already staring at me.
“And the baby?” My throat thickened with emotion as I held my breath, waiting for his response.
Ryker moved over me. His large hand reached out, and he gripped the sheet covering my nakedness. His eyes remained locked on mine as he gently tugged it down my body.
I shivered, not from the cold but from the heat of his stare as he exposed me. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild, desperate thing seeking escape. The air between us grew charged, heavy with unspoken words. I couldn’t look away from his gaze, even as vulnerability clawed at my insides.
When the sheet pooled at my waist, Ryker leaned in, pressing a kiss to my abdomen. “Our son is a fighter,” he murmured against my flesh.
Relief crashed through me, so intense I almost choked on it. I hadn’t realized how desperately I wanted this child until that moment.
Ryker’s palm settled against my still-flat stomach. A myriad of emotions flickered across his face: relief, and… wonder, perhaps?
My own emotions tangled into a knot so tight I couldn’t breathe around it. A child. Our child. Growing inside me despite everything my body had endured.
“It’s a miracle,” Ryker said, an echo of my thoughts. “But of course, something as petty as poison was never going to take you from us, was it, Son?” Quiet pride threaded through his tone.
I chuckled despite myself, and Ryker rested his cheek on my stomach as though he expected an answer.
The weight of his head against me, the careful reverence in his touch. It undid something inside me. My fingers found their way into his blond hair, threading through the strands that had grown longer since I last noticed.
He had been here, watching over me, for three days. “You didn’t leave.”
He lifted his head, those storm-grey eyes finding mine again. “Did you think I would?”
For a moment, the world felt impossibly fragile, yet perfect. His breath warmed my skin, and I could feel the tension leaving his shoulders as he held us both.
“You’re different here,” I said, studying the way the morning light caught the sharp planes of his face.
“Different how?”
“Softer.”
He let out a low hum, but whether it meant agreement or something else, I didn’t know.
“Let’s stay here forever.”
He chuckled in response, but he did not argue.
We both knew it was a foolish wish. But in that moment, with his arm wrapped around me and the world outside held at bay, it didn’t matter. Here, time felt slower, with duty and destiny just distant echoes.
He moved closer, crawling up my body, and pressed a kiss to my temple. I closed my eyes, letting myself believe, even for a little while, that this peace between us was real, that it could last.