Chapter 9 #2
Though he’s promised never to hurt me, I can’t help but fear the extent of his fae powers.
If he ever turns into a monster, if he starts treating me as his people usually treat their slaves, how will I survive him? How could I hope to escape him?
He can summon wings and fly great distances.
He possesses powerful magic.
And he seems very determined to keep me.
As his companion.
I still haven’t figured out what that entails.
Once he reaches the balcony door, his shoulders relax and the dark blue light dissipates from his palm. He opens the door briefly to admit a black bird that’s clutching a rolled-up missive in its talon.
I stand and move closer, wanting a better look. The poor creature looks half frozen to death. When it ruffles its feathers, snow flies onto the floor.
Merak takes the letter from the bird’s talon. As he holds it up, I glimpse a faint blue glow clinging to it, as though it’s spelled.
A messenger bird, I realize.
“Oh, you poor thing,” I murmur, kneeling in front of the shivering creature.
The bird doesn’t try to move away from me.
I suspect it’s probably on the verge of shock.
Can birds go into shock? I immediately scoop the creature into my arms and carry it toward the fire.
I grab a blanket off the nearest sofa and create a soft nest for the bird in front of the hearth, then I place it gently inside.
My heart aches as I stare at the poor wee creature.
I glance up to find Merak scowling at the letter he’s opened.
Whatever it says, he’s not pleased. A wave of sorrow flashes through him, followed by rage, and finally worry.
He rolls the letter up and sets it on a table.
Then he runs a hand through his long, dark hair, and starts pacing as he casts annoyed looks out the windows.
Something has happened.
I want to ask if he’s all right, but I’m hesitant to leave the shivering bird.
It keeps shaking, occasionally fluffs its feathers, and keeps its head tucked tightly to its body.
I rush to the kitchen in search of food for the animal, then return a short while later with an offering of breadcrumbs, berries, and a small bowl of water.
I place the items inside the bird’s makeshift bed, though it doesn’t so much as look at the offering. It just keeps shivering.
I knew the fae used glamoured birds to deliver messages—another tidbit I learned from hanging around the traveling merchants on market day—but I’d never stopped to consider whether any harm might come to them in brutal weather.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper to the bird.
“You just stay by the fire in your warm little bed for as long as you need. When you feel better, you can have a snack. Don’t worry about going back outside anytime soon.
Until the blizzard stops and you can safely fly away, you may consider yourself a welcome guest.”
A shadow suddenly falls over me, and I peer up to find Merak standing beside the fire, staring at me quietly.
I sense his continued sorrow, anger, and worry from the letter, but also something else as he watches me comfort the bird.
Astonishment, and warmth. He finds my treatment of the bird… endearing.
My heart flutters.
If someone from Braemar witnessed me talking to a shivering bird, they would probably laugh and make a snide comment about the strange, map-collecting woman who can’t seem to find herself a husband. But he’s not thinking anything derogatory about me. Quite the opposite.
Merak lowers himself onto the floor beside me, the firelight catching in his dark hair. “Move aside,” he says quietly, though not unkindly.
I hesitate, looking between him and the bird.
“Please. I’m not going to harm it,” he adds in an even softer tone.
I swallow hard, then scoot over a bit, allowing him to move closer to the bird.
My breath catches in my throat as I watch him extend a hand over the trembling bird.
At first, nothing happens, but eventually a faint blue light gathers in his palm.
Healing light, I realize. The same kind of magic he used to mend my wrists and ease my fever.
The blue light intensifies, swirling gently before spilling downward in a soft wave that settles over the creature. The bird jerks once, then again, and then it slowly stills. Its feathers cease trembling, and it lifts its head.
I lean closer. “It… it stopped shaking,” I whisper.
Merak watches the creature for a moment longer, then nudges the bowl of water closer with one finger. The bird drinks hesitantly, then pecks at the berries and breadcrumbs. A short while later, it tucks itself into the blanket with a soft chirp and settles into a peaceful sleep.
Warmth unfurls in my chest, a sudden, boundless tenderness for Merak that leaves me breathless.
I would have never expected this. Not from him.
Not from a highborn fae male from the Winter Court, a male who surely possesses great amounts of Unseelie blood, the darker side of his people.
Yes, he has shown me gentleness and patience, but it’s still a shock to see that softer, compassionate side of him so clearly laid bare.
Merak stands slowly and straightens. His gaze moves from the bird back to me. “It will be fine now. Once the blizzard stops, we will open a window and set it free.”
He offers me a hand, and I accept his help as I rise to my feet.
But once I’m standing, I don’t move away from him.
I remain close, so close our chests are almost touching.
He stares at me unblinkingly, and his hands shift to my waist. I’m very aware of his partial nudity—he never did manage to put a shirt on this morning.
Perhaps he misplaced it. But I haven’t gotten dressed yet either.
My heart skips a beat, and suddenly, it feels as though the realm and all the inhabitants therein have faded away.
It’s just the two of us.
This is it, I think. This is the moment.
The moment he will finally kiss me.
His emotions flow to me freely, and the depth of his longing for me nearly brings tears to my eyes.
Until now, I never knew what it was like to be wanted.
To be the sole focus of a worthy man’s attention.
Yes, worthy. Merak might be a highborn fae male from the Winter Court, but thus far, he hasn’t proven himself to be quite as cold and cruel as I would have imagined.
Perhaps it’s as he explained when we first arrived in Ellonnar—the fae from the Winter and Autumn courts usually reserve their cruelty for their enemies.
As he holds me close, it doesn’t feel like we’re enemies.
Once, the lines were blurred, but no more.
I try not to think about the fact that he owns me, that he is my master and the realm will always view me as his slave.
Instead, I focus on the warmth blooming between us, the intimacy that’s quickly developing into something more than simple companionship.
His hands roam over my hips and upward, until he’s cupping my face. He still hasn’t blinked. Not once. And the intensity of his gaze has me ready to swoon.
I want him. Once the thought emerges in my mind, I cannot tamp it down. It’s true. I want him as fervently as he wants me. I yearn to feel his lips pressing against mine. I ache for… so much more. My face heats at the sensual images that follow.
He leans down until I can feel his cool, peppermint breath on my face.
“You belong to me, Gwen,” he murmurs softly.
Then he finally, at long last, presses his lips to mine.