Chapter Twenty Nadir The Woodlands
Ipace the length of the room, but this cottage is like the head of a pin, and there’s nowhere for me to go as the walls close in. The healer, whose door I nearly split in two, sits at the side of the bed where Lor lies still with her eyes closed.
“It appears they gave her something. A sedative of sorts,” Alder, the elf healer, says. “Does she have magic someone was trying to suppress?”
I stop, turning on him, a caustic warning curling up the base of my spine.
“No,” I lie.
He offers me a skeptical look but doesn’t push the matter and turns back to Lor, continuing to dab her forehead with a cloth soaked in a potion of herbs he swears will help. I wish we could return to the settlements. Everyone knows the best healers live in Heart, even without their magic.
Elves are much smaller than High Fae, and Tristan and Mael sit at the tiny kitchen table, the furniture practically dwarfed by their frames.
Etienne wandered off somewhere after we arrived with his shoulders hunched and an even deeper scowl on his face than usual. I’m trying not to lash out at him for his nearly fatal mistake, but I’m finding it difficult to harness my temper. It was an accident, and he probably feels bad enough about it already, but I’m so angry I want to rip apart the sky.
Alder tends to Lor, mumbling something under his breath as he touches her here and there, once again examining the bump on her head. He’s assured me it’s a minor injury and it shouldn’t cause any permanent damage.
“Can you wake her up?” I demand. “What’s wrong with her?”
He looks up at me with dark green eyes, a tenderness I don’t deserve crossing his expression. Then I feel a hand land on my shoulder.
“Come for a walk,” Mael says. “He’s doing everything he can.”
I shake Mael off. “No. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay, but then stop yelling at him.”
I glare at my friend, but his patient smile doesn’t falter. He holds up a glass of a dark green liquid clinking with balls of ice. “Have some Armata. It’ll settle your nerves.”
I take the glass and drain the entire thing in one gulp before I hand it back to him and roll my shoulders. “Nope. Didn’t work.”
I start pacing again, and Mael sighs as he returns to the table. Tristan is watching his sister intently, his pale face contrasting with the dark circles around his eyes. He was a huge asset tonight. His control over his magic, despite how little he’s used it, is impressive. He helped me destroy those bastards without the slightest shred of mercy. In fact, I think he enjoyed it a little bit.
It makes me wonder if maybe we could be friends someday.
His gaze slides to me as though he can hear my thoughts, his expression shifting in a way I can’t interpret before he looks back at Lor.
She groans softly, and I’m at her side in an instant, dropping to my knee and taking her hand.
“I think the poison is wearing off,” Alder says. “It appears it was meant to incapacitate her for only a while. The effects should abate completely soon enough.”
I drop my head against her shoulder, whispering a thank-you to Zerra.
“Give her a little longer,” Alder says. “I’ll brew some tea to help with the pain from that nasty bump when she wakes up.”
Alder stands and claps me on the shoulder before he shuffles to the tiny kitchen. I remain in the same position next to Lor, gripping her hand between mine like she might dissolve through my fingers if I let go. I can’t stand to think of how close I came to losing her. I remember her calling for me. I’ll never forget her voice for as long as I live.
Sitting on the floor, I hold Lor’s hand, watching her eyelids flutter and her forehead crease as though monsters are troubling her dreams. I wish I could reach out and take them from her. Take away all the pain she’s suffered and make it mine.
Finally. Finally, she blinks awake, staring up at the ceiling. It’s light out now, the sun having risen on what felt like the longest night of my life.
Her gaze moves to me, and an expression crosses her face that feels like she’s cataloging me. Reading every cell and pore until she penetrates the very depths of my marrow. I get a peculiar sense of the world tipping on its side, but I have no idea why.
“What is it?” I ask, but she shakes her head and looks up at Tristan and Mael, who are now standing behind me.
“What happened? It was your father’s men, wasn’t it?”
Everyone’s gaze flicks to Alder, who’s standing at the stove stirring a pot and humming to himself. I place a finger to my lips, reminding her to be discreet. She reaches up and touches my cheek, her fingers gentle, and it’s all I can do not to pick her up and kiss her until the sun burns out of the sky.
“You’re covered in blood,” she says. There’s no condemnation in her statement, only distant observation.
“They had to die.”
She blinks, her dark eyes simmering with rage while clearing with focus.
“Did they suffer?”
I raise an eyebrow and give her a crooked smile. “Very much.”
She nods and presses her lips together. “Good.”
“That’s my girl,” I say, and she gives me that same odd look again. Before I can ask her what the matter is, Alder thrusts a steaming mug into my vision.
“Here,” he says. “Drink some of this.”
I help Lor sit up, and she winces before she touches the back of her head. Rage, billowing clouds of icy vengeance, filters right to the tips of my fingers. What I did to those bastards wasn’t enough. I hope they suffer from now until the end of eternity.
She accepts the mug and takes a tentative sip before wrinkling her nose.
“Tastes like death warmed over,” Alder says. “But works like a charm.”
He chuckles and then walks away as Lor forces down another gulp.
“Are you okay?” Tristan asks, sitting near her feet.
She nods on a hard swallow. “I will be. I thought they had me.”
We all sit in silence for another few minutes while she continues to sip her tea. Color is returning to her cheeks, and the vise clamped around my chest finally eases—she survived this. Of course she did. She could survive anything.
“Do you think you can stand up?” I ask, preferring not to linger here any longer. Not only should we avoid staying in one place for too long, we should get back to Aphelion. Lor needs control over her magic now more than ever. My father will keep trying to get to her until it kills one of them. Of that I’m sure.
“I think so,” she says, placing her now-empty mug on the small table next to the bed. She pushes up to stand with Tristan’s hand under her elbow.
“Whoa,” she says, swaying on her feet. Before she can do anything, I’ve scooped her into my arms, and I’m rewarded with an angry glare.
“I don’t need you to carry me.”
“You nearly passed out just there.”
“I’m fine. Besides, you’re covered in blood.”
She waves a hand over me, and I grin.
“The blood of your enemies, Lor. Ask me, and I’ll slay anyone for you. Burn the world to ash if you desire.” Though I mean the words to sound like a jest, they come out simmering with the fire of my truth.
She studies me again with that same puzzled expression as if she’s finally fitting my various pieces together. The brightness in her eyes almost rips the air from my lungs, and I swear the corner of her mouth twitches as though she’s trying not to smile.
Something happened between the moment I left her with Rhiannon and now. Something that feels like a tentative thread of… hope?
“Etienne’s waiting outside,” Mael says, rolling his eyes at my dramatics. “Let’s go.”
Despite her protests, I hang on to Lor, and she stops fighting me. I take that as a positive sign. Of what, I’m not sure yet.
Tristan and Mael head outside, but Mael comes to a stop so abruptly that I nearly crash right into his back.
“What are you—”
We’re surrounded by a dozen High Fae guards, all wearing the green-and-bronze uniform of the Woodlands army. Etienne has two spears pointed at his throat and his hands lifted in surrender, trying not to make any sudden movements.
In the center of this show sits an Imperial Fae male on top of a massive horse, his brown leather wings spread wide.
“Cedar,” I say, trying to keep my tone unaffected and not like we’re in a whole world of shit right now. Slowly, I lower Lor to the ground, keeping my arm around her waist. She’s staring up at her great-uncle with the same unease we’re all currently experiencing. “What brings you out here?”
Cedar smirks and then slides off his horse in one smooth movement, his feet kicking up a cloud of dust as his boots strike the earth.
“My dear prince. You didn’t think you could waltz across my borders and I would remain ignorant of your royal presence? The forest has eyes and ears everywhere.”
“We’re just passing through,” I say. “So, if you don’t mind, we’ll get out of your hair.”
I attempt to pick up Lor again, when suddenly four more spears point towards us while more close around Mael and Tristan. I could attempt to use magic to get us out of this, but Cedar knows I won’t. It would cause too much of a mess. Besides, I’m almost positive we’d never survive a chase through the forest with its king on our heels. This is his territory, which puts all of us at a distinct disadvantage.
“That’s rude, Nadir. You enter uninvited, trample through my forest, make use of one of my healers, and then just leave without even saying hello? I’m wounded.”
My jaw clenches.
“My apologies,” I say. “I thought a king as important as you had better things to do than entertain a few wayward travelers. Surely The Woodlands doesn’t trifle itself with such unimportant matters.”
The comment is pointed, and he knows it, but he doesn’t chew on my bait.
Instead, he grins. The egotistical son of a bitch.
“Of course, but I always have time for the prince of The Aurora. In fact, I think you should all come to the Fort and be my guests for a few days.”
I feel Lor stiffen next to me, and my own sense of warning fires in alert. Is this an invitation or a detainment?
“That’s very kind of you,” I reply. “But we really do need to be going.”
“What’s the rush? Where do you need to go in such a hurry?”
He levels me with his bright green gaze, and I wonder just how much he knows.
“You haven’t even introduced me to your companions.” He scans over the group, nodding at Mael, whom he’s already acquainted with, before his gaze falls on Lor and then flicks to Tristan.
This is very bad.
“This is…” I start, trying to think of a convincing lie.
“I know who they are, Nadir,” Cedar says, his tone turning flat as he sweeps an assessing gaze over Lor and her brother. “You think I don’t recognize my own flesh and blood?”