Chapter 15
“Have you been in any of the other houses before?” I asked as Kallen carried me into the inner hall. I felt unaccountably nervous, like he might judge me for the fountain of blood.
“No.” Some of the tension in his face and shoulders had relaxed after I’d allowed him to hold me. “This is the first.”
“It must be a rare sort of invitation.”
“More common before Osric’s reign. As with all good things.” He paused before the fountain and looked around. “It’s laid out similarly to Void House.”
“Earth, too.”
This late at night, everyone else was abed—the house must have roused only Lara and Anya. They’d been following close behind, but now Lara swept in front of us. “You need a bath,” she told me. “And some tea for the pain.”
Anya seemed less certain. Her shoulders curved as she looked at Kallen, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
It was as if, now that the immediate crisis was over, she was remembering her vulnerability.
Now that we were away from the stench of death, I caught the sour echo of wine wafting off her.
“I’ll make tea,” she said softly, then turned and nearly fled to the kitchen.
My temples throbbed, and I grimaced.
Kallen frowned. “Tell me where your chambers are.”
“I can take her—” Lara started, but Kallen cut her a look, and she subsided.
Somehow I hadn’t realized he planned to carry me to my room. I swallowed, looking up at him. “Back right staircase, top level.”
His lashes lowered. “That’s like Void House, too.”
My fingers curled in the fabric of Kallen’s shirt as he began climbing the steps. I felt an urge to apologize for burdening him. “I can probably walk—”
“No,” he said firmly, and that was the end of that.
He carried me like it was no effort at all. The Noble Fae had greater endurance than humans, but he was stronger than most from what I’d seen. He’d killed six soldiers single-handedly tonight. He’d ripped someone’s throat out.
It should have horrified me, but I found myself wishing I had managed to kill someone, too.
I directed Kallen to my room, and he shifted me in his hold until he could reach the doorknob with the hand hooked beneath my knees. Refusing to put me down even for that small motion. I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers tangled in his blood-matted hair. He needed to bathe, too.
I envisioned him in my tub then—strong arms stretching along the rim as he watched me, steam rising around his bare torso. The imagining was so unexpected and visceral that an alarmed noise escaped my throat.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, looking concerned as he carried me over the threshold.
I shook my head, cheeks starting to burn. My brain must be addled from nearly dying—that was the only reason to be imagining Kallen naked.
He moved through the sitting area quickly, heading for the bed. The thought of him placing me on those sheets filled me with a swift panic. “Wait,” I said. “I’m covered in blood.”
His steps slowed. “You need to rest.”
“I need to wash first.”
He put me down next to the bed, keeping one arm around me to support my weight. “Can you stand while I draw a bath?”
“Yes, but I can draw my own—” At his narrow-eyed look, I stopped arguing and nodded. “Thank you.”
My body was healed, though the trauma and blood loss had left me shaky. I gripped the bedpost for support as he entered the adjoining chamber, and soon I heard the tub filling.
Why was he doing this?
I was coming to know Kallen better, but he was still an enigma. He’d played the hostage, the spy, the assassin, the traitor, and now the kingmaker, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that whoever Kallen truly was didn’t fit neatly into any of those categories.
The water cut off, and Kallen returned. “It’s ready. Do you need me to carry you?”
Was he going to offer to strip me next? The idea was as disturbing as the vision I’d had of him in my tub, so I shook my head. “I’ll be back.” I slipped past him and closed the door, then removed my filthy clothes.
The hot water felt like a miracle. I lowered myself into the tub with a stifled moan, not sure how much Kallen could hear. Blood bloomed on the surface, and soon the water turned pink. I had to drain and refill the tub twice before it remained clear.
I soaped gently around Caedo, and the dagger nuzzled my fingers without nipping. Maybe Kallen could explain what had happened to us.
As I untangled my wet hair, I puzzled over the mystery of what he was doing in my chambers. He might have saved me for the sake of Hector’s crown, but that didn’t explain why he was fussing over me. Unless he was trying to earn my allegiance through demonstrations of kindness?
That didn’t seem like something Kallen would do. That was more Drustan’s method of winning allies.
Maybe he’d wanted to get a look at the interior of Blood House. But then why hadn’t he found an excuse to explore? The only time I’d heard the door open was when Lara had come to check on me and drop off tea, and I didn’t hear sounds that indicated the ransacking of drawers, either.
If he wasn’t doing this for Hector’s cause…he must be doing it for me.
I rinsed a final time, then grabbed a towel. As I looked down at the stained garments heaped on the floor, I realized I’d made a terrible miscalculation. Cursing myself, I wrapped the towel around my body and padded to the door. I opened it a crack. “Kallen?”
“Yes?” His voice came from closer than I was expecting.
My face was hot from more than the steam. “I don’t have a dress.”
There was a long pause. “Oh.”
“Can you—”
“Yes.” I heard him moving away, then the wardrobe opening. A moment later he was back.
I opened the door wider to grab the burgundy dress he held out, embarrassed that he was seeing me in nothing but a towel. “Thank you,” I squeaked.
I shut the door, then tied my wet hair up messily before putting on the gown. It was soft and unstructured, without any laces or hidden fastenings to worry about, and I wondered if Kallen or the wardrobe was responsible for selecting the most comfortable item.
Kallen must feel disgusting with all that blood on him. I considered offering him the tub, but that disturbing vision nagged at my mind again, so I wetted a hand towel and left the bathroom to bring it to him. “Here.”
He seemed surprised by the offer. “Thank you.” He rubbed the towel over his face, hands, and hair, wiping away the dried gore.
I tossed the towel into the bathroom before returning. “Do you need anything?” I asked, twisting my fingers in my skirts. “Food, a drink?”
He shook his head. “Let’s sit for a while.”
I preceded him into the main room and sat on the velvet-upholstered settee. There was a steaming mug of tea waiting, and I recognized the scent of medicinal herbs wafting from it. I took a sip to cover my nervousness.
Kallen unbuckled his sword belt and set it on a nearby table. I’d rarely seen him without his sword, and the movement struck me as oddly intimate.
This was a huge amount of trust he was offering, I realized suddenly. To enter another house’s territory alone, where he could be captured or killed, and then disarm in front of me. I’d been thinking of the risk in letting an outsider into the house, but the risk to him was substantial, too.
The cushion dipped as Kallen sat on the opposite end of the settee. He stretched his arm along the back. “Let’s talk about what happened.”
I grimaced. “I was useless tonight.”
“Not useless.” His fingers tapped a few inches away from my shoulder. There was still a restless edge to him, an unsettling intensity to the way he was watching me. “Let me teach you how to fight.”
“What?”
“You need training.”
He wasn’t wrong. “I would have done better,” I said, trying to preserve what was left of my pride, “but my magic stopped working.”
Kallen’s lips parted. “You tried to use magic?”
I nodded, wondering why he looked so alarmed.
“Fuck,” he said softly. He withdrew his arm from the back of the couch and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I hadn’t even thought…You don’t know about Sun Soldiers? Or cold iron?”
“I…no?”
“Cold-forged iron is anathema to faerie magic. It drains us of our power if we touch it or try to cast against it. Those were Sun Soldiers, Light House’s most elite fighters—and the inner layer of their armor is iron.”
That must be why he hadn’t used his Void powers to tear them apart. “I had no idea.”
Some of the true believers in Tumbledown had hung horseshoes in their barns to prevent mischievous faeries from stealing livestock, but I’d never given the practice much thought. It had seemed like a silly superstition, but apparently it had been rooted in truth.
“Iron is also used to shackle prisoners,” Kallen said.
“To bind their magic and worsen their suffering. It blisters the skin, so the Sun Soldiers plate the armor with gold to diminish the effect. They can’t cast light while wearing it, but it’s an advantage for strong fighters because it forces combat to stay on the physical level.
The net he threw at me was iron, too—they use it when they anticipate a Void faerie turning into shadow. ”
Now I understood why the soldier performing magic tonight had been wearing leather—and why prisoners’ wrists always looked raw beneath their manacles.
“I should have realized,” I said, angry with myself at the oversight.
I’d never questioned how Fae prisoners were kept under control when they had such terrifying powers.
“No, I should have told you.” Kallen’s tone was harsh with self-judgment. “I didn’t even think about it, and you were hurt.”
“You didn’t know.”
“But now I do.” He gave me another frank look. “Let me train you, Kenna. Let me teach you how to survive down here.”
Lessons in warfare from the former King’s Vengeance. The thought was intimidating, and my pride stung, imagining all the ways he would find my skills lacking. But if anyone could teach me survival, it was Kallen, who had navigated centuries at Osric’s side while plotting against him.
I nodded.