Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I was removing my shirt to wash up when the passageway door banged open on its hinges, the panel thumping against the wall. Rowan burst in, face pale, eyes wide with panic.
Had there been another attack?
I scanned her body, noting that her cream-colored dressing gown was askew and she was barefoot, but there were no signs of any harm.
“Davin said you were injured.” She answered my unspoken question. “Why didn’t you come to get me?”
It took me a beat too long to register that the anxiety on her features was on behalf of me. I moved toward her, considering her question.
“Because it was nothing serious, just a scrape,” I assured her, wondering vaguely if I would have thought to retrieve her if it had been more than that.
I wasn’t in the habit of informing anyone when I was hurt, and my relationship with Rowan was far from conventional.
“Just a scrape that almost severed your head from your neck,” she shot back, her breath hitching.
There had been a small part of me that wondered whether last night had changed anything, whether she regretted it. She wasn’t putting her guard back up, though, in spite of her early morning flight. Her features were openly concerned, her hands fluttering nervously along my shoulders.
It stirred something inside me that I wasn’t sure how to evaluate.
“What happened?” she demanded.
I took her hand in mine, running my thumb along her wrist in an effort to calm her panic.
“Davin and I wandered away from the guards to follow a stag, and we were surrounded.” I gave her the simplest, albeit somewhat understated version. “Just a few rebels trying to stop the alliance.”
Her features darkened and she yanked her hand from mine to once again trail along my chest, lingering over my heartbeat.
“I’m all right, Lemmikki,” I told her, ducking my head to capture her gaze.
The action had an unintended consequence, since it also gave me an unobstructed view of the impressive curves bursting free from her gaping dressing gown, the fabric covering them so sheer that it may as well not have existed at all.
I closed my eyes before I lost what little control I ever had when she was around.
“Though I suspect you might be trying to kill me now.” I gritted out the words, focusing on willing away my reaction to her…assets.
Despite my outwardly cavalier attitude about my wound, I knew that I had lost plenty of blood. I couldn’t afford to sacrifice any for the sake of urges I couldn’t act on right now anyway.
The whisper of silk sounded, and I could only hope she was tying her robe.
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” The alarm had left her voice, replaced with a wry amusement. “Let’s not pretend that steam in the sauna was a real barrier.”
I risked opening my eyes for the sake of smirking at her. Did she realize what she had just revealed?
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Lemmikki.” It wasn’t particularly shocking since I had caught her probing gaze more than once, but I was surprised she was willing to bring it up. “Perhaps you were the one looking through the steam.”
She shrugged, the motion exaggerated enough that I was forced to acknowledge the thin, cream-colored silk was not much less alluring closed than it had been open.
Der’mo .
“I wasn’t not looking through the steam,” she admitted casually.
I should have known better than to try to shame her when she had none. The bold glint in her eye paired with her mischievous smirk and the damnably transparent silk was enough to undo me entirely.
A groan escaped me, and I gave in to my unrelenting need to touch her, trailing my hands along her shoulders. It tugged at my wound, but it was worth it when she let out a small gasp.
“If I kiss you now, are you going to run away again?” I asked her pointedly.
Her lips parted, still pinker and more swollen than usual. “I did not run away this morning.”
There it was, the telltale lift of her chin. Even she knew she was lying. I raised my eyebrows and she looked away.
“All right. Fine. I did. But only because…” She pulled her lip between her teeth, and I resisted the urge to steal it back with my own.
Her answer to this mattered.
Just as I had the night before, I grasped her chin in my hand, angling it until her gaze returned to mine.
“Because?” I pressed.
“Because we had a busy day.” The quiet admission wasn’t close to the whole truth, so I patiently waited for her to acknowledge the rest.
She swallowed, taking a breath. “And if I had stayed in that bed another minute, we would still be in it now.”
Whatever I had been expecting her to say, that was not it.
My breath stilled in my lungs, my lips parting as all rational thought fled my mind. I didn’t care about my wound or her relative state of undress or the fact that there were no doubt dozens of people who knew she was in my rooms right now.
“ Der’mo, Lemmikki. ” I pressed my lips against hers, running my hands up and down the sides of the robe I wasn’t sure if I loved or hated.
Both.
She had been responsive last night, but it was nothing compared to the urgency with which she returned my kiss now. She sank her teeth down onto my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, tugging at the strands of my hair like she couldn’t get close enough to me.
If I had been fighting for control until now, it was a battle I conceded the moment her tongue swept into my mouth. I pressed her against the wall, and she sighed, running her hands down my neck, along my shoulders…then she froze when she got to the bandage.
Letting out a whoosh of air, she lightly pushed me away. I felt the absence of her warmth instantly.
“And that,” she panted out, “is why I left quickly this morning.”
I surveyed her features, trying to reclaim enough of my reasoning to suss out her meaning, since I hardly considered the events of the last few minutes to be an object lesson in consequences.
For all her jokes about our day being too busy to make time, she had also hesitated last night. Uncertainty brimmed in her eyes and I recalled that, for someone with very little self-restraint, she had made it clear that she had never been in Korhonan’s bed, or anyone’s, despite ample opportunity.
For whatever reason, she didn’t want to take things that far before our wedding. I nodded my understanding, pressing a kiss against her forehead before backing away to give her some space.
Her shoulders eased in relief, a soft smile coming to her lips.
“I should get cleaned up, Lemmikki. And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you...you should get dressed.” I vowed that it would be the last time I spoke those words.
She gave me a half smile before disappearing back into the passageway. I had Pavel call for a bath while she was gone. I mostly managed to avoid the bandage, though steaming water still seeped into my wound. It was hardly enough pain to incapacitate me, though. Not when I had trained in the wake of my stepmother’s lessons .
Apparently, that wasn’t a chance Rowan wanted to take. When she returned, using the regular door as opposed to the passageway, she was looking at least marginally more put together, with Gallagher in tow.
That didn’t stop her from ogling me, her heated gaze settling on the open laces of my shirt. I smirked at her obvious perusal.
Gallagher cleared his throat.
“I thought I might look at that wound,” Gallagher said evenly.
That was wholly unnecessary, but Rowan bounced anxiously at his side, and I couldn’t deny a certain amount of curiosity regarding his…skillset. I also had plans for tomorrow night that would be far more enjoyable the more healed this wound was.
I agreed, moving so they could enter. I pulled off my shirt, taking a seat. Gallagher removed my bandage gently, hazel eyes assessing the wound with a clinical detachment.
“A scrape?” Rowan’s tone was outraged, and I shrugged.
It was minor by comparison to the injuries I had sustained in the past, but I suspected she wouldn’t find that comforting.
After exchanging a brief look with his cousin, Gallagher stretched out a hand toward the still bleeding slice in my flesh, pausing before he made contact with my wound.
“May I?” he asked.
He might have been asking for permission to prod at the cut or apply medicine, but I doubted that was the case in light of what I had witnessed with Rowan. I nodded after a beat.
He pressed his hand over the center of the cut. Heat spread from his palm, subtle enough that I might not have noticed if I hadn’t been expecting anything. He furrowed his brow in concentration, taking several measured breaths. My skin tightened, the wound closing over like an invisible force was pressing the two sides together.
When he pulled his hand back, the mark was pale white, the same faded color as my oldest flogging scars.
I inhaled sharply. Though I had known on some level what he was capable of, it was still a shock to see the laceration all but disappear. My mind was governed entirely by logic, for better or worse—Rowan being the obvious exception. I had learned early to rely on the things that I observed.
So, though I didn’t believe in things as fantastical as magic, neither could I deny the things I had witnessed where this family was concerned.
“Shall I chalk this up to an interest in healing?” It was as close as I would come to asking where their…abilities came from.
Gallagher exchanged another uncomfortable glance with Rowan, who only shrugged.
“Well, you certainly can’t blame Gallagher’s feminine needs,” she said in a wry tone.
His lips turned up at the corners as he got to his feet.
“I’ll leave you two, but you should rest until dinner. Healing takes a lot of your own energy.”
I thanked him, and he saw himself out. Once he was gone, I turned to Rowan, letting her see the question in my gaze.
She shifted on her feet, clearing her throat.
“You know...about my weather...thing,” she said.
“Well, I know you have more than an interest in the weather, or an injured appendage. Or pressing feminine needs,” I tacked on with a smirk.
She let out a small laugh, though her eyes were still warily fixed on mine. “Yet you never asked me about it.”
“I didn’t need to. I trusted you.” I let the rest hang in the air. I hadn’t needed to ask her before, but I did need to know now.
Rowan knowing when a storm was coming wasn’t inherently dangerous, if, indeed, that was the extent of her abilities, but Gallagher’s skill was something people would kill for. Whatever else she or her family were capable of, I needed to know if it put her at risk.
Which she seemed to be explaining, albeit in an incredibly meandering fashion.
“Even that first time?” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Why did you believe me?”
It wasn’t hard to remember that day. She had been a massive pain in the arse from the moment I claimed her, but she had been undeniably brave. Even when she shouldn’t have been. Even when discretion would have served her better, when fear might have kept her alive, she had refused to cower.
Aside from the bare moment of panic she had shown when I announced the blood debt, that day with the storm had been the first time I had seen her eyes widen in anything close to fear.
“Lemmikki, you looked me in the eye when the Summit spoke of dismembering you and made a joke about courier costs,” I reminded her. “I kidnapped you, took you to a territory you had heard horror stories about, and you didn’t shed a single tear.” All the way there, I had half expected her to break down, but she never had. “Storms, when we were attacked and outnumbered, you unflinchingly wielded a sword and then stared me down defiantly with your torn dress and your blood-spattered clothes.”
And considered stabbing me, I was fairly certain.
“But besides all of those things, you are a terrible, terrible liar,” I told her bluntly. “So, when you looked at the clouds with something close to actual fear and told me we needed to stop for a storm, I didn’t know how you knew, but I would have been an idiot not to believe you.”
Her eyes softened as she stepped closer to me. Leaning down, she pressed her lips on mine, running a gentle hand through my hair.
“Thank you.” She spoke the words against my mouth before she straightened.
I ran my hands along her sides, relishing the feel of her warmth under my fingertips. “For what?”
She sighed. “For not making me come up with a more ridiculous lie that day. Because you’re right, I’m not great at it.”
I didn’t bother telling her how obvious that had been even before Korhonan mentioned her weather-toe.
“My family has fae blood,” she went on. “It gives us a connection to the earth. A heightened awareness of the elements around us, and in some cases, the ability to manipulate them, though not like those who are fully fae.”
That certainly put the legends of the old fae gods of Socair in a different light. Not gods, then, just people who could do things that would outwardly look like magic.
“I can see why you don’t make that known,” I told her, if only to assuage the guilt that shadowed her eyes.
“Yes, for all of the obvious reasons, but also because there are fae hunters. We aren’t supposed to exist outside of…wherever their birthplace is.” She shrugged, though the gesture was forced. “So they find a way to take care of that problem.”
I forced myself to take a breath, though the idea of yet another target on her back made my blood run quicker in my veins.
Royalty in her own divided kingdom.
The princess of the enemy in Socair.
And now fae.
“The others are used to hiding their gifts, but in Lochlann, it was never really an issue for me,” she explained, sinking into the chair across from me.
“Why not?” I asked.
She might be cavalier about her own life, but even she wouldn’t invite fae hunters to…take care of her.
Surely.
She looked pointedly toward the window. “The weather here is predictable, and that’s all I can really do.”
Predicting the weather might be easy to hide, especially when soldiers were trained to read the clouds, but I was fairly certain that wasn’t all she was capable of.
“Are you sure?” I pressed.
She snorted delicately. “I think I would have noticed something else by now.”
Though her tone was joking, there was a self-deprecating edge, bordering on disappointment. Whatever the abilities of her family, she seemed to think hers were lesser, something I wasn’t convinced of.
Gallagher’s healing was impressive, to be sure, but the weather was no small thing.
I considered what I had seen from her. She had been furious at the Summit, the rain coinciding perfectly with the moment she realized I had tricked her into our wager. Then later, when she had predicted the storm, the wind had raced around us but hadn’t thrown us off the road the way it should have, something I hadn’t put together until the villagers came in talking about it.
And the day the Unclanned attacked, the day we lost Dmitriy and Igor, the icy rain had stopped the moment the first rock fell. Not to mention the more recent incident, perhaps the only time I had been conscious of what was transpiring at the time.
“I assumed you influenced it, to some extent,” I explained. “At the memorial...there was no humidity in the air, and those clouds were hardly ominous. Then you were grieving, and the rain came down.”
My thoughts grew fuzzier as I tried to explain, and I realized I was, indeed, worn out from Gallagher’s healing.
“That must have been a coincidence.” Her voice sounded farther away than it should have. “I’ve never been able to do anything like that.”
“Hmmm,” was the only response I could manage as she shifted in and out of focus, fatigue crashing over me all at once.
“Come on.” Her tone was amused, her touch warm as she pulled on my hand to get me to stand. “Gal was right. You need to rest before dinner.”
I couldn’t argue that, both because I was sure I would only yawn if I opened my mouth and because it was obvious at this point. So I let her lead me to the bed, holding my arm out for her and falling asleep with the feeling of her lips on my chest.