Chapter 56 Vera
Vera
“Everyone decent?” I call around the privacy hedge.
I waited for what felt like forever and a day before I worked up the dignity to come down.
I hear one of them laugh, and Ikar gives the okay, but I still hesitantly peek around, ensuring I’m not intruding.
All I get is an eyeful of damp-haired, bare-torsoed warriors that many a woman would fight for.
I can’t stop the hot blush that stains my cheeks, but I ignore it and try to act unaffected as I drop my bundle of clothing away from the edge of the bathing pool and make my way over to the shore made of smooth, polished stone, where Ikar sits before the water.
He’s washed, and smells of mountain springs and pine.
A clean bandage is wrapped around his torso.
I also notice the way his clean trousers hug his long legs that stretch out before him.
I find that suddenly my mouth is much too dry.
Maybe it was a mistake to come here. I should have just waited until they returned.
Ikar looks up with a grin, appearing more relaxed now. “Here to kick us out?” He puts on a good front, looks as handsome as ever, but even after bathing and cleaning up, I can tell he’s unwell.
I recall the way he twined his fingers with mine when I held his hand, and I pull on that to give me confidence to risk sitting close beside him. He doesn’t shift away—I take it as a win.
Now I eye the bandage, raising a reproachful brow. “How come it’s not healed yet?”
He watches the waves lapping at the shore.
“In Moneyre, there’s only enough lucent available to speed the healing process, not entirely heal it.
Darvy was working on it before we left, but it was taking too long, and we needed to find you.
Even though there’s more lucent here, it still takes a lot of energy to heal—especially more serious wounds, and I’ve pushed him to the brink of his abilities the past few days.
Darvy won’t admit it, but he’s tired. It’ll probably take another day or two. ”
I force myself to shove down the strong habitual urge to hide my magical gifts. Things are different now, and I have to trust him if I want things to change. If I want him to forgive me… eventually.
Before I change my mind, I blurt out, “Can I? Heal it, I mean.”
Fear seizes my tongue, and the words come out in an awkward jumble. I want to dive into the pool to escape, but I sit there and endure it. Courage.
He looks at me doubtfully. “I thought you didn’t like blood.”
He suffered because he thought I didn’t like blood? It’s the sweetest and most anger-inducing thing I’ve ever heard. It gets ten times worse when I remember he’s only injured because of me. He’s in this horrendous forest again because of me.
For a moment, I begin to doubt that he could ever feel more for me than basic responsibility for a former business partner.
“I don’t, but I want to. I… owe you.” I love you.
His brows draw together the smallest bit as his intense blue eyes search mine… for what? Sincerity? I don’t yet have words to describe my feelings for him, so I dip my head like a coward while I slip my knife from my boot. He acquiesces and lifts his arm so I can slice the gauzy material away.
I try not to look too hard at the wound; my stomach already roils and turns seeing the irritated, puckered skin, still festering—Darvy’s even stitches holding it all together.
Red streaks travel outward. It’s nowhere near healed; in fact, it looks infected and only barely closed.
I’m cringing before I realize he’s watching me.
He lowers his arm, intentionally blocking the sight from my eyes. “You don’t have to. Darvy is capable. I’ll be fine.” His tone is decisive, and he grabs the bandage to cover it.
I maneuver onto my knees, determined—it’s the least I can do. “No. Let me.”
He reluctantly allows me to push his arm away, and the skin contact sends my magic into pleasant sparks that I instinctively keep close.
Maybe if I release it, it’ll give me away, and I won’t have to tell him the uncomfortable way with words and awkward apologies.
A coward’s wish. I keep it wrapped up tight. I intend to do this properly.
I hover my hand over the wound and pull lucent.
He tenses up, then sets his jaw and prepares himself for the coming burn that goes hand in hand with usual healing magic—but not so for mine.
I watch his expression as he eyes my hand, feeling the lucent as it runs through my body and into his.
I can visibly see him relax as the magic works to heal him, soothing and comfortable.
He watches with amazement as the skin knits painlessly together, the stitches fall uselessly to the stones beneath us, the red streaks reverse, and the swelling and redness fade until only a white scar surrounded by healthy skin is left.
Another scar to match the others that are scattered across his body.
I drop my hand and sit back on my heels.
“It didn’t burn.” His voice is controlled, but I see his awe in the way he touches the new scar.
I shrug and smile. “One of my secrets.”
“When are you going to tell me the rest of them?” He looks up at me, where I still kneel beside him, placing my eyes directly in front of his very serious ones. It catches me off guard.
Now. Say it now.
I pick at a loose thread on my trousers and swallow tightly. “That would take a lifetime.”
“I’m here for it.” His voice is deep and a little rough and entirely too convincing.
My breath turns shaky. This is the moment I’m supposed to share it all. My third chance. My lashes flutter in time with my heart beneath his intense focus. My thoughts scatter with the adrenaline of knowing what I’m about to do. How much do I share? Is he meaning that as a friend… or more?
I drop my eyes to get a reprieve from his soul-searching, patient gaze, only to get an eyeful of his impressive chest and almost fall over as I scramble to look elsewhere.
Looking elsewhere, meaning searching for a shirt I can toss at him so I can behave properly.
I don’t see one nearby, but I manage to make it back to sitting beside him without embarrassing myself too badly.
I end up a little closer than before, our legs only a hair’s width from touching.
So much change in so little time has me reeling.
I thought I was prepared for this—in my mind I can clearly see myself sharing everything with him.
I imagine how it would feel to just say it, to let him take the weight of my secrets in his capable hands and heal my broken places. That is, if he forgives me.
Ikar looks at the new scar on his torso again, and I follow his eyes, which is a mistake because… still no shirt. I’ve never felt less disciplined in my life.
“Thank you for this,” he says.
I nod and look back down at the pesky thread. “It’s me that should be thanking you. And also offering an apology. The things I said on the journey, the way I ran... I didn’t know who to trust.”
“And now?”
I meet his gaze. “I think that’s obvious.”
“Is it?” He offers a frustrated sort of smile before he rests his arms on his knees and turns his attention to Rupi, who hops through the shallow water and wet rock, cleaning her feathers happily.
His comment is a little icy, and I don’t blame him. We both know there are too many secrets between us still—mostly mine. Still, he doesn’t force an answer from me.
I watch Darvy and Rhosse climb steep cliffs beside the waterfall, engaged in some sort of dangerous competition men are drawn to, I suppose.
I smile at their bickering, and then Ikar’s bare torso steals my attention again, but this time it’s his mark.
I trace the scrolling ribbons that travel down the upper part of his chest and arm with my eyes, and watch how it trails down to his mid back, curling and turning.
Most of it is stark black against his skin, but I see small portions at the ends of the scrollings that shine almost white.
“Tell me about it?” I ask, gesturing toward his mark with my chin, feeling vulnerable and unsure. How does he feel about talking about it?
He looks at me for a long moment. I almost begin to apologize for asking at all. We both know it’s my turn to share, and I can’t blame him if he decides to say no.
“What do you want to know?” His expression is guarded as he looks out over the water. He’s so still he could be a gorgeous statue in some rich lady’s courtyard.
“I’ve heard every new heir is born with his part of the mark added on, but I didn’t know it was two colors.”
“Every generation adds to the mark. The first started here.” He shifts to a position where he points to the uppermost part of his collarbone and shoulder so I can better see.
“And here is where magic really began suffering.” He points to scrolling parts of the mark that go from lucent to black.
“It’s a history of our people and magic, of sorts. ”
“And is this your part?” My finger brushes against a few scrolling ends at his mid-back, not yet completely black.
His skin is warm to the touch. After a week of icy cold, it draws me more than ever.
It’s only when he stiffens and goosebumps spread across his skin that I realize I probably shouldn’t have touched him.
My magic runs wild within my veins. I definitely shouldn’t have touched him.
We both freeze, awareness a heady fog between us.
“Yeah, that’s my part,” he finally answers, his voice low and deep.
I pull my hand away and squeeze it between my knees to better keep it off him.
Ikar swallows and looks back over the pool.
“So it turns black if lucent is weak while you’re king?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Yours is still gold—that’s a good sign.”
“Some of it.” He breathes out, and with it, his shoulders seem to drop beneath invisible weight.
“What will happen if it does turn all black?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “My father had an heir at my age already to add more gold by the time his turned black, to carry the kingdom forward, if you will. If I don’t fix this and I don’t have an heir…”
Heir—the word brings a horrid image of me forever keeping my dratted secrets and living my life alone with a flock of white fluffy birds while Ikar marries another Tulip and has a brood of gorgeous children.
I feel a little like a lusty everwisp right now with jealousy running like hot lava through my veins.
“No,” I breathe out.
The image I’d just created brings almost tangible pain, and I find myself clutching the fabric of my trousers with a white-knuckled fist. One of the reasons I worked up the courage to escape Renton was so I didn’t lose Ikar to another Tulip, or to anyone.
If I ever want a chance to see what could be between us, now’s the time to fight for him.
My quiet exclamation catches Ikar’s attention, and he appears slightly confused. I would find it incredibly endearing if I didn’t have to spill my deepest secrets in the next moment.