Chapter 39 Isi
ISI
The thunder cracked so loud it rattled the windowpanes.
I’d barely managed to wrap my hair with a towel and dress in a sleep shirt before thunder boomed overhead and a bolt of lightning lit the sky, painting the walls in a flicker of silver-white.
My heart leapt against my ribs. Every muscle locked.
Another roll of thunder. Another flash. The storm was right overhead.
I flung myself from the bathing chamber, my towel dropping behind me, and leaped onto my bed, hugging my body, pressing my back against the headboard. My hands trembling so badly the quilt slipped from my fingers. The storm had come fast—an ambush of light and fury rolling in from the mountains.
I tried breathing through it. One breath, two. But the next lightning strike tore through the sky so bright it seared my vision, and I couldn’t hold back the choked sound that escaped me.
That was when the door crashed open.
I shrieked and flinched, throwing my arms over my head. For a moment, all I saw was the blaze of magic flooding the room.
“Isi,” Trew rasped. “It’s me.”
He froze on the threshold, thunder echoing between us. I knew he hadn’t meant to startle me but my whole body refused to listen to reason. My pulse pounded, my breathing coming too fast.
He eased the door closed and moved slowly toward me, one palm lifted.
“Minx,” he said, his voice as smooth as honey. “It’s just a storm.”
Fates, if only it ever felt like just that.
Another crash shook the room. My body reacted before my mind caught up. I bolted from the bed, straight into him. He caught me, his arms folding around me, iron doors slamming shut on the world.
He smelled amazing. His arms felt even better. I focused on the thud of his heartbeat against my cheek, and the sound of the storm faded.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I swear it, Isi. I’ve got you.”
I clutched his tunic with shaking fingers, my face pressed into his chest. I hated how much I trembled, how small I felt.
“I hate storms,” I gasped between ragged breaths. “The lightning—”
His hand moved in slow circles over my back. “You’re safe. I promise.”
He guided us backward until we reached the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he drew me down beside him, one arm still around me, tucking me against his side. His warmth bled through my nightdress, his breathing steady near my temple.
Outside, the wind howled. Lightning split the sky again, and I flinched hard. His grip tightened.
“Hey,” he said, his lips near my ear. “Look at me.”
I did. Barely.
He brushed my wet hair back, tucking a strand behind my ear with so much tenderness that something inside me cracked. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” The word came out small but certain.
“Good. Then listen, and I’ll tell you something to make the thunder jealous.”
That earned a startled laugh from me. He smiled and began to speak in a low, storyteller voice.
“Long ago, a foolish hero thought he could defeat a thunderdragon who lived at the top of the highest mountain peak. He climbed through storms and lightning, all bravado and arrogance, because he believed the beast was terrorizing his people. When he reached her cave and stepped inside, he raised his sword—”
Lightning struck again. I buried my face in his chest.
“—and the thunderdragon looked at him and laughed. ‘Why do you come to kill me, little man?’ she asked. And the hero said, ‘Because you frighten my village with your noise and flashes of light.’”
Trew’s fingers threaded through mine. “But she told him she only roared when she was lonely, and the sky answered her grief. So the hero lowered his sword. ‘Then I’ll stay until you aren’t lonely anymore.
’ And he did. The thunder still rolled, but she no longer roared to break the world, only to remind it she was alive. ”
His thumb brushed the back of my hand. “So when you hear thunder, Isi, it’s not meant to hurt you. It’s just the dragon reminding the world she’s still here.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “That’s a ridiculous story.”
He grinned against my hair. “All the best ones are.”
I tilted my head enough to look up at him. “And what became of the hero?”
“Oh, he was doomed from the start.” His eyes gleamed in the low light. “He fell in love with the thunderdragon, of course.”
I snorted softly. “How very predictable of him.”
He lifted a brow. “Predictable for falling in love with a creature powerful enough to tear him apart?”
“Yes, exactly that.”
The humor in his expression softened into something that saw straight through me. “Then perhaps you know how the dragon felt too.”
I couldn’t answer. Not with words. But I leaned closer, resting my forehead against his collarbone. I let the steady beat of his heart drown out the next roll of thunder.
He held me tighter. The tension in my shoulders began to ease, until my breathing matched his. When another flash lit the window, I didn’t jump. His hand traced lazy lines along my arm, reminding me he was here with me.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.” My voice sounded drowsy, thick with relief.
“Good. Because I’m going to stay here until the storm passes. You’re not sending me away. You’re going to rest.”
“You’re bossy,” I mumbled, a half-smile curving my lips.
He laughed low. “I’m a king. It comes with the title.”
“You can’t just order me to—”
“Rest?” he said. “Watch me.”
“Bossy,” I said again, even as I burrowed closer. His chest rose and fell under my cheek, and it was impossible not to sigh. “You’re lucky this is comfortable.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Lightning flickered again, but this time, it felt distant. Harmless. His warmth and the weight of his arm around me dulled the edges of my fear. I traced one of the seams of his tunic. “You know, I’m not in the habit of letting kings crawl into my bed.”
“Then it’s a good thing I burst in uninvited.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Noted.”
We stayed like that through the rest of the storm, wrapped in quiet, punctuated only by the sky’s fading surges.
He didn’t move except to stroke my hair or adjust the blanket higher around us.
His voice rumbled through his chest whenever he spoke, telling me inconsequential things.
How Gavelle hated flying in the rain, how the healers scolded him for not eating properly, how he planned to assign guards near my corridor.
“I don’t need guards,” I said around a yawn.
“You’ll have them anyway.”
“Bossy,” I whispered again, but there was no heat behind it.
His laugh was quieter this time. “Sleep, Isi.”
“I’ll sleep when you do.”
“Then we’re doomed.”
I wanted to tell him I didn’t want him to leave. That for the first time in too long, I felt safe. But my eyelids grew heavy, and words tangled in the comfortable fog between waking and dreaming.
The last thing I felt was his hand brushing over my hair.
And the last thing I heard was him whispering. “You’re safe, Minx. Always.”
When I woke, the storm had passed. Pale light spilled across the bed, and the air smelled faintly of rain. The space beside me was empty, but the pillow still held the imprint of his shoulder and a trace of his warmth.
A tiny treasure rested beside where my head had laid.
I blinked and reached for the polished stone the size of my pinky nail, smooth and sea-green, with a silver loop at the top. Not grand, but personal. It shimmered in the light, a familiar kind of magic thrumming through it.
He’d left me a ward. A silent promise of protection I could wear next to Addie’s pendant.
My throat tightened as I pressed it to my lips.
“You wonderful man,” I whispered, my smile so bright it hurt my face.
A meal waited on the small table near the window—fresh bread, butter, honey, fruit, and a steaming mug of tea. My stomach growled.
I ate, the tastes reminding me of when I was little and I’d have breakfast with my mother and Addie in Mama’s room.
Outside, the sky had been scrubbed clean, the world washed and full of promise.
I almost felt that way myself.
When the last bite was gone, I curled up on the bed, the pendant snug in my hand.
I could almost hear his voice in my mind: You’re safe, Minx. Always.
I drifted again, waking to a knock on the door.
“Isi?” Lexie’s breathless voice came through the panel.