25. Raven
Throat dry, eyes burning, muscles aching, and soaked sheets pressing against my backside. I rested on a bed in the same space I vaguely recalled from the last time I had woken—definitely not my own bedroom, nor the room I occupied at the pub.
I twisted and peeled back the covers. Patches of sweat and, in some places, blood covered the sheets beneath me.
Blood had also seeped through and stained the dressings covering my waist, but not horribly so.
My hand with the cut from the zombified woman and scythe incident was still wrapped… and aching.
I felt like a doll barely holding my stuffing inside. Everything hurt, yet I was healing, hopefully.
Easing myself flat against the bed, I stared at the ceiling. Winter had brought me here. I remembered that much. He had catered to my delicate ego, keeping me from being embarrassed by Chace…because I remained angry with him, or angry at myself for confusing my emotions regarding him.
But mostly I was embarrassed because of what I’d done—what I had allowed to happen. I hadn’t wanted Chace to know and take it as evidence that he was better than me.
Only, how long ago had that been? And how much more time would be required for me to return to the task of reaping? Or attempting to reap, anyway.
A woman—she’d said her name was Camilla—had fussed over me with a cold compress when I woke. Although I didn’t care to be fussed over, I had little fight in me. Camilla and all her actions had managed to shift me into a relatively calm state after the upset thrust upon me by my sleep terrors.
Had I awoken earlier to hear her talking to someone? I thought I’d heard a male’s voice. Had Winter been present?
I dragged oxygen deep into my chest, the action splintering pain across my ribs like the quick crack of a whip.
I closed my eyes. Took shallow breaths.
All I need is a tad more sleep, and then I’ll be good as new.
The bang of a door from the first floor vibrated through the front wall, followed by the clattering of what I assumed was a metal basin. Water splashed. Two voices grew louder, along with heavy footsteps.
The coming conversation hushed and then fell flat. Camilla appeared in the doorway, a basin of fresh water in hand.
She pushed the door open wider and moved to the dresser, where she set the basin down. “Sorry for the delay. A visitor arrived.”
Winter entered the room in her wake. He moved with the flow of mist and magic. A breeze of brightness in an otherwise dreary room.
I attempted to push to a sit. Pain rippled through me, halting my rise at an elbow prop. I squinted against the soreness pulsating throughout my body.
“Lie back.” Winter brushed past Camilla in a heartbeat and gently pressed his fingers to my collarbone, urging me to comply and rest fully upon the bed.
I opened my mouth to argue, but he shifted his finger to my lips, halting my words. Choosing not to push, I laid my head upon the pillow once more.
He grinned at my compliance and slowly dragged his finger along my lower lip. “The healing process cannot be rushed. You must give in to it for it to best serve you.”
Camilla dropped a fresh cloth into the basin of water and then wrung the excess liquid free. “The early stages of the healing process have not been kind to her.”
She spoke to Winter without sparing him a glance and slipped to my side, wedging herself in front of him.
Gracing me with a reassuring smile, she flattened the damp cloth against my forehead. Held my gaze. “But I suspect the worst is now behind you, isn’t it?”
“Hope so.” I brushed her hand and cloth away. “And I don’t need that.”
“It’s to help bring your temperature down.” Her features pulled into a soft frown.
Behind Camilla, Winter towed a wooden chair across the room and planted it at my bedside.
He laid his open palm before her, requesting the damp cloth. “Why don’t you let me handle this for a while? You are overworked and deserving of a rest.”
I tried to sit up once more. “I don’t need either of you fussing over me.”
I knew the words to be a lie even before they passed my lips. I doubted I could even successfully get myself off the bed. But I hated asking for help and being dependent on others, and yet here I was, in need of assistance more than ever.
With his hand placed just below my collarbone, Winter once again gently pressed me back to the pillow.
His fingers brushed against my bare skin, lingering longer than necessary. “You can indulge us, at least for a short while, can you not?”
I blinked up at him. His eyes shone like a clear winter sky. A calmer, more relaxing hue than when I’d first laid eyes upon him.
As charming as I might have somewhat found him during his visits to the pub, I wasn’t sure what to make of him or the slight change in his eye color—still blue but different.
Maybe the room’s lighting was to blame.
Based on what I could perceive, someone had moved me to a smaller, more private room on the upper floor that received a healthy dose of sunlight at particular times of the day.
“Trust me, Camilla,” Winter said. “I’ll take excellent care of our patient.”
“You’d better,” she snapped. “Raven and I have become wonderful friends in the short time she has been here.”
I wrinkled my nose, unaware of any exchange between us other than today. My brief awakenings from the nightmares, where Camilla offered me a drink and attempted to wipe the sweat from my brow, were hardly anything I would call friendship bonding.
The arch of Winter’s eyebrows suggested he was equally surprised, but he spoke nothing against her claim.
She dropped the cloth into his awaiting hand and focused on me. “If you need me or need him to leave”―she glanced at Winter―“simply ring this bell.”
She moved a bell from the dresser and set it on the bed next to my hand.
I wrapped my fingers nimbly around the bell’s handle, and I smiled awkwardly. “Thank you.”
Seeming sufficiently satisfied, Camilla turned and headed for the hallway.
“I am a little tired,” she said softly and, sparing me and Winter a hesitant glance, slipped out of the room, pulling the door to a close at her back.
Winter’s gaze lingered on her exit for extra seconds, then he settled into the chair at my bedside.
Lacing his fingers together, he pressed his forearms into his thighs and leaned forward. “Has Camilla been treating you well?”
I tried to shrug but stopped short. I couldn’t help but feel the nearness of him, and it caused my skin to tingle. Itch even. “I imagine so. It’s not like I’ve been awake much.”
“You have been sleeping a lot, but that’s good. It means you’re healing.” With a delicate hand, he dabbed the wetted cloth across my damp brow. The dabbing trailed along the side of my face to the curve of my neck in an almost sensual sweep. “I am pleased to see you awake, though.”
I huffed and began to lift my bandaged left hand to stop his attention. An instant ache halted my intention.
Right hand. I should have used my right hand, like I had before with Camilla. Too late.
Winter noted my pain and leaned even closer, his eyes half lidded. “Are you all right? You shouldn’t try to move if it causes you discomfort.”
“You think?” A healthy dose of sarcasm flowed into my delivery.
I swallowed thickly.
A frown dragged at Winter’s face as he reached out and wrapped his hand around mine.
My immediate instinct nudged me to pull away, yet I didn’t. The touch—his warmth—felt oddly comforting, considering I hardly knew him.
“A lot of people have been worried about you,” he said. “You need to get better for them as well as yourself.”
I choked on a laugh. “A lot of people, huh? Chace? Possibly Aoes?”
I couldn’t imagine Aldine being cognizant enough to notice my absence.
“Okay. You got me.” An amused smile lifted his lips. “I was worried about you.”
He brushed his fingers lightly over the top of my hand.
Despite the pain, my body shuddered. Tingled with reaper-knew-what.
For a split second, I was reminded of something. A sensation experienced in a recent dream…or nightmare. The attempted memory wholly slippery, I couldn’t grasp a firm hold.
My gaze drifted from his hand up to his eyes, and my cheeks warmed.
My thoughts toppled into chaos, as if someone—Winter—had slammed the blunt end of a scythe into the center of my emotional core, sending all my feelings reeling in every direction.
“Distract me. Tell me why your parents named you Winter.” I attempted to steer the conversation away from anything I perceived as personal.
The brush of his skin against mine and the idea of him being worried about me felt terrifyingly personal. Even if his worry only existed on a surface level. Concern for a fellow being and all that.
I slipped my hand free from his touch and rested my palm against my belly.
Dropping back into the curve of his chair, he propped his arm on the edge of the bed. “Would you believe I was named for the season in which I was born?”
I glanced over him, taking in his ever-fair complexion―his hair and skin so light they appeared white. As white as undiluted snow. If I had to venture a guess, I would have assumed his name came from his coloring rather than the time of year.
“Tell me it isn’t so.” I grimaced. “Are others in your family named after summer, spring, and fall?”
He chuckled and picked at the blanket, pulling free a frayed thread. “I confess, my family wasn’t very imaginative in their naming process.” His mood sobered, his smile fading. “How much do you know about the people here?”
“I hate to admit it but not much.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.
The mere question reminded me how little I knew about my assignment, beyond the unreapable history. Maybe I should have asked more questions of my father or Aldine. Maybe I should have spent my time with Winter and Aoes, digging into the citadel’s history.
Winter rose from his seat and crossed the room. From the dresser’s surface, he grabbed a jug and poured a glass of water. As if he knew what I needed before I made the request.