Chapter 18 Wen #2
Mal was awake. His eyes were open and clear, looking at me with so much love it made my chest ache. His hand was still in my hair, fingers tangled in the strands that had come loose from my braid during my restless vigil.
“Hi,” he said softly, his voice rough from disuse but unmistakably him.
I burst into tears.
Just completely broke down. Ugly crying, the kind with the hiccupping and the snot and the complete loss of dignity that I would be embarrassed about later but couldn’t bring myself to care about now.
Relief and joy and residual panic all crashing together at once in a wave that knocked every coherent thought out of my head.
“Don’t cry,” he said, looking genuinely concerned, trying to sit up.
“DON’T MOVE!” I launched myself at him, hugging him gently but unable to not touch him, unable to not hold him.
I buried my face in his neck and let the sobs come.
“How dare you. How DARE you scare me like that. I thought you were dead. I thought you left me. I thought I’d have to tell Killian his father was gone and I was going to kill you myself for breaking your promise and. ..”
“I am here,” he said quietly, his arms coming up to hold me despite what it clearly cost him. I could feel him wince but he didn’t let go. “I promised you forever, remember?”
“You’re an idiot,” I sobbed into his neck. “A reckless, stupid, wonderful idiot and I’m going to kill you myself for making me worry.”
He was laughing, his chest shaking under me despite his injuries. “I love you too.”
“This isn’t funny!”
“You are threatening to kill me while simultaneously hugging me,” he pointed out, his voice warm with amusement. “It is a little funny.”
I tried to maintain my glare but I couldn’t do it. He was awake. He was alive. He was here, talking to me, teasing me, being completely himself.
My Mal.
I kissed him instead of arguing, desperate and relieved and full of everything I couldn’t find words for. When I pulled back, he was watching me with that soft look he reserved just for me and Killian.
“How long was I out?” he asked.
“A day and a half. Your body just shut down. They said you pushed too hard.”
“But we won,” he said, searching my face.
“King Igrid is dead. Gregyor took control. It’s over.”
He exhaled slowly. “Good. That is good.”
The medical team rushed in, alerted by the noise. They surrounded the bed, checking vitals, examining him. Their expressions shifted from concerned to confused to pleased.
“The healing has accelerated,” the head healer announced. “Whatever was blocking it has cleared. You are on the mend, Your Majesty.”
“When can I leave?” Mal asked immediately.
“Not for several days,” she said firmly. “You need rest. Your ribs need time to fully heal.”
Mal looked like he wanted to argue but a sharp look from me made him subside. “Fine,” he grumbled.
They left after giving detailed instructions. When they were gone, we sat in comfortable silence for a moment, just holding hands.
There was a knock on the door.
“I’ll get it,” I said, kissing Mal’s forehead. “Don’t move. Not even a little bit.”
“I would not dare,” he said dryly.
I opened the door to find Prince Gregyor standing there, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He was cleaned up from the battle, wearing fresh clothes, but he still looked tired.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing slightly. “I apologize for the intrusion. I wanted to check on the king.”
“He’s awake,” I said, unable to keep the relief off my face. “Going to be fine.”
Something in Gregyor’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. That is very good.” He shifted his weight. “I also came to ask something. Can you create a portal? I need to return to Igryside. Announce my father’s death and my intention for peace. Consolidate power before anyone challenges the transition.”
“Of course,” I agreed at once. “Give me just a moment.”
I stepped into the hallway, leaving the door open so I could still see Mal on the bed. After a day and a half of fear, the sight of him awake and talking was something I needed to keep in my line of vision. Just to make sure he stayed that way.
Focusing was easier now, the fog that had been clouding my thoughts finally clearing. My mind felt sharp again, centered in a way it hadn’t been since I’d watched him fall.
I thought of Igryside. The throne room Gregyor had described during our planning sessions. High ceilings. Banners in their kingdom’s colors. Stone walls worn smooth by centuries of history.
The portal opened smoothly, perfectly stable on the first try. No flickering, no hesitation, no accidentally opening into someone’s bathroom like during my training disasters. Just a clean doorway to exactly where I wanted it.
Gregyor’s eyebrows rose, clearly impressed. “Remarkable control. Thank you. For everything. I truly did not want war.”
“Neither did we,” I said honestly.
“My kingdom will not forget how you helped us.” He bowed deeper. “If you ever need anything, you need only ask.”
He stepped toward the portal, then paused. “Tell your mate he fights well.”
“I’ll tell him you said that.”
Gregyor almost smiled. Then he stepped through and was gone.
I closed the portal and returned to Mal’s side.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“Your new best friend,” I said. “Prince Gregyor. Says you fight well.”
A smile crossed Mal’s features. “I like him.”
“You two bonded over patricide and political upheaval. Very touching.”
He laughed, then winced and pressed a hand to his ribs. “Do not make me laugh. It hurts.”
“Then I’ll stop being funny,” I countered.
“Impossible. You are naturally hilarious.”
“And you’re naturally ridiculous,” I countered, but I was grinning too, in what felt like forever.
I eased onto the bed beside him, mindful of his injuries, and settled against his good side. His arm came around me right away, pulling me close despite the effort it clearly took.
“The guards who did not make it back,” he said after a moment, his voice heavy. “Their families will be taken care of. I will see to it personally.”
“I know you will,” I murmured. “You always do.”
We fell quiet for a moment, both of us processing everything that had happened. The fear, the victory, the cost. Outside the infirmary window, dawn was breaking over Lytopia. A new day.
“Killian is going to want to see you,” I said eventually. “Sorcha’s been keeping him distracted but he knows something happened. He’s worried.”
“Bring him,” Mal said without hesitation. “I want to see our son.”
“After you rest,” I said firmly. “A few more hours.”
“You are very bossy when I am injured,” he observed.
“Someone has to be. You’re terrible at following orders.”
“I am the king. I give orders. I do not follow them.”
“Not in my infirmary,” I said sweetly. “Here, I’m in charge. And I say you rest.”
He smiled, his eyes starting to drift closed again, exhaustion pulling him back under. “I love you,” he said quietly.
“You’d better,” I replied, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Now sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“You always are,” he mumbled, already half asleep.
“Always,” I agreed.
And I meant it. For as long as he needed me, for as long as we both lived, I’d be here.