5. Raven
Wake up, wake up, wake up. I need to wake up.
I repeated the mantra over and over, but my too-heavy eyelids refused to comply. Less than a full day had passed since I’d pulled Winter out of his icy coma, and I was exhausted on a level I’d never before experienced.
And my slumber…it had come pretty damn close to my own personal death-state oblivion.
I pinched the skin of my forearm hard, and my eyes sprang open.
My skin burned for not having insisted that I return to the pub last night and retrieve my belongings myself.
But what would have been the point? A detail had already been dispatched by the time I had heard anything about the plan.
Not a chance in the blue flames of death had existed that I would have gotten to the pub first.
Plus, I’d been so deathly tired.
I could only hope that the men would be sworn to secrecy about whatever they found, lest I forfeit my deal with the queen before I even got started.
But oh, by the death gods, I had been drained and required a decent night’s sleep. Still wanted more, yet—
I need to get up. Get up!
A knock, followed by the immediate opening of the main chamber’s door, bolted me upright on the bed.
Winter’s voice announced his arrival, whisking through the rooms to my place against the far wall of the bedroom. “Thought you could use a nutritious meal to start your day off on a proper footing.”
I didn’t immediately reply. Instead, I pulled the sheets and blankets firmly around me and stared at the open doorway between the bedroom and receiving chamber.
Not only did I not have my belongings when I had crawled into bed last night, but having packed so incredibly light for the trip, forgoing many of the extras, I’d been spending most of my nights sleeping in my undergarments. As I had last night.
I wasn’t overly modest, but I was not at any stage of a relationship with Winter that left me comfortable exposing more than necessary…despite my contentment in his company…or the extent of my flesh he had already observed when I was injured.
Winter cleared his throat and knuckle-knocked lightly against the bedchamber door. “May I enter?”
A quick glance down at myself verified all the risqué bits were covered. All right, then.
Deciding on a safe response, one that wouldn’t lead him to believe he was overtly welcome in my sleeping space, I responded, “I guess so.”
He breezed into the room with a smile on his lips and a tray of tasty-looking morsels in hand. “Good morning.”
His grin was akin to the sunrise: bright, colorful, and full of promise. Among the temptations he carried, I eyed a large bowl of fruit, even as my nose detected sausage, freshly baked bread, and something else I couldn’t quite place.
My stomach grumbled, awakening to the breakfast aromas and asking to be filled.
The edges of Winter’s eyes crinkled with a widening expression of delight as he took me in. “No need to be shy around me.” He glanced over my hands clutching the blankets and then raised his gaze to the exposed skin of my shoulders. “I’ve already seen it all.”
My face flushed, the warmth spreading and scalding my cheeks.
“I did have to cut away your clothing in order to treat your wounds, remember?”
How could I forget. The Killian had come to visit, which meant only one thing… I’d almost died.
“Now tell me,” Winter continued. “Would you like to enjoy your breakfast in bed or out on the terrace, where you can take in the crisp morning air?”
With a tilt of his head, he motioned to the double glass doors set in the wall to my right.
I swung my gaze from the doors back to Winter. I didn’t particularly relish either option in my current state of undress.
As if sensing my emotional quandary, he turned toward the terrace, balanced the tray of food on one hand, and opened the door. “I’ll just wait out here for you. There’s a bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathing chamber door.”
The sweet aroma of roses wafted into the bedroom, mingling with the promise of food, as he slipped outside, keeping his back to me the entire time.
As he set the morning meal upon the terrace table, I scurried to the bath chamber and shut the door. The room was larger, far more luxurious than the bathing accommodations at the pub. The washroom even offered heated running water. Something I had missed dearly.
Last night, when I had stepped foot into my “new” palace space, I’d drawn upon my strength not to let my jaw drop. I understood that keeping me close was a control tactic on the part of the queen, but…wow…I could get accustomed to the amenities offered.
I had not only a bed and bath chamber all to myself but a receiving room and attached work and study room.
Office, if you will. The main features in that office were an oversized desk and worktable.
The bookshelves lining the walls were empty of all reading material, as if the queen…
or prince…possibly even the advisor…feared I might discover some deep, hidden secret within the writings.
Even if they didn’t trust me, and I hadn’t expected them to, they had granted me not a room like I had at the pub, but my own apartment for the duration. An apartment!
I had more private space in the palace than I did in my own family’s penthouse.
Back home, I had my own comfortable bedroom, but I shared all the other spaces with my parents.
I was more than old enough now that, if I managed to survive the Citadel of Veritas reaping, and finally graduate from the Reaper’s Institute, I’d probably be looking for my own place by the end of next spring.
Quickly taking care of my needs, I washed my hands and face, wrapped my body snuggly in the provided robe—so thick and soft against my skin—and joined Winter on the terrace, my appetite eager to dig into the awaiting fare.
Settling into the awaiting seat, I crossed my legs, making sure the robe didn’t slip open to expose any more skin than necessary. His wandering gaze was a complication I didn’t want, nor need, to deal with. Especially considering my blood-sworn agreement.
The terrace overlooked a humongous courtyard centered around a large fountain. Various forms of seating dotted the space below. Everything from a collection of chairs and solo benches to tables designed to accommodate sizable parties.
And roses. Roses of every color grew in planters outlining and weaving through the sun-kissed court.
“Glad to see you got a good night’s rest,” Winter said by way of greeting. “After all you’ve been through, you surely needed that.”
He filled my glass with a mellow morning juice.
“We both did.” After accepting his offer, I took a sip and sighed. Then I glanced over his impeccable attire, but more importantly his refreshed facial features. “You’ve been through more than your fair share as of late, too.”
A twinkle of laughter sparked in his eyes.
“I have, haven’t I?” He turned his head and gazed past me, as if he could see into the rooms beyond.
“Your things were delivered late last night after you’d already passed out.
I took the liberty of having them deposited in your receiving room. You don’t have much.”
My muscles tightened, and I braced myself for the inevitable questions my reaper’s handbook would undoubtably bring. Trying not to let any tremble of my hand betray my nerves, I concentrated on setting my glass down with one smooth movement.
If Winter noticed any wobble in my motion, he pretended not to. The look on his face was more contemplative than curious or concerned.
“Only one small bag of clothing was delivered. Is that really all you brought for your trip?”
I bit down on a nervous smile, waiting, still waiting, for the horrid question to drop. “I didn’t know what to expect when I packed. I guess I hadn’t anticipated being here this long.” I dragged a drawn-out, cleansing breath through my chest. “Looks like I severely underestimated.”
Winter chuckled. “No worries. I’ve already sent word to a seamstress. We’ll have some things made for you in no time.”
What kind of things? Dresses? Fashionable tunics or pant outfits?
I might have reluctantly agreed to taking a room in the palace, but I would not start dressing like a royal or one of their servants.
Plus, I wouldn’t pay for new attire, and I definitely didn’t need or want their charity.
Winter was taking liberties that weren’t his to take.
“You didn’t need to do that,” I said, my throat growing tight.
“Don’t worry.” He reached a hand across the table and patted my arm. “You know the seamstress. It’s Camilla, and she will create whatever you desire. Anything from dresses to more warrior-looking leathers, as I’ve noticed you prefer.”
“Camilla?”
The woman who had helped nurse me back to the land of the living? The woman who had been put out when Winter showed up at her doorstep and thrust my care upon her?
Winter’s hand shifted, his fingertips gliding ever-so-lightly down my arm and over my hand, where he began to trace the lines of my long, slender fingers. He studied his movement, as if memorizing everything he saw.
I bit my lip against the tremor of sensations his skin sparked against my own.
With a muffled cough, I extracted my hand from beneath his touch and picked up my fork. Began to eat. The distractions of the crown prince were not something I should entertain for so many reasons. The two most significant being the queen’s request and the fact that I was a reaper on a task.
Conversation stilled while we filled our bellies. I chose not to pursue the idea of Camilla, the seamstress, making my new wardrobe items, and Winter never dropped any reaper-related queries.
I savored my meal, devouring it slowly, and allowed Winter to finish before me. After all that I had been through since setting foot in Veritas, my stomach had managed to tangle into strangling knots.
My wounds were healing well…thankfully. Faster than I would have expected. But then again, I’d never been wounded in such a manner, so I had no basis upon which to judge.