17. Winter #2
Winter clenched his teeth, causing pain to shoot across his jaw.
But she wasn’t wrong. Her personal and magical business was her own.
Only, he was still the prince, she was one of his subjects, and, through her children, she was also family.
He held a deep responsibility for her within his heart.
A level of responsibility he didn’t care to make her aware of.
Intending to playfully challenge her, he spun around to face her, but her forward shoves had her crashing into his chest. His arms automatically closed in around her, and his chest rose with a gasp.
Closer to her than he had been in over a century, his senses filled with the aroma of her.
The aromas from the front room (rosemary, mint, and sage) clung to her skin like a perfume, but her signature scent (fresh linen and daisies) dwelled strong within and beneath, reminding him of…
Camilla froze and stared up at him, her eyes wide and mouth parted.
His muscles locked up.
My brother’s. He shook his head. Closed his eyes. Camilla is the mother of my brother’s children, and this…whatever this is… It shouldn’t be.
He dropped his arms and stepped back, then he allowed his easy dismissal from her company.
Camilla returned to her work before he managed three retreating steps.
As he exited the back workspace, he turned his thoughts to Raven, pushing the mishap with Camilla to the farthest back regions of his mind.
Although her warnings regarding Chace lingered.
Winter refused to accept the idea that Chace was a serious threat to his person.
Winter was, after all, not only the prince, but a powerful magic wielder.
And thanks to Raven, or unexpected circumstances, he had retrieved large amounts of his magical store.
He was a gods-worthy force, and Chace… Chace was an irritating personality and an oversized thorn in his garden.
Before making his way to Aoes’s pub to collect an update on said irritating thorn, Winter paused in Camilla’s kitchen and pulled a chair up beside the afflicted twin, Myla.
“Hey, darling,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your sister is, would you?”
Myla’s hands darted into action, shifting through the various drawings spread across the table’s surface. She pulled three together and slid them to Winter. He studied each one intently. A dark cavern, a tunnel with flamed sconces, and a high wooden chair with chains.
His stomach twisted and dropped. “Can I keep these?”
She responded with a smile and a nod.
Winter’s visit with Aoes had been brief. Guilt festered over the briefness. The two hadn’t spent nearly as much time together since Raven’s arrival, but he couldn’t help the quick stop. Winter had things to which he must attend.
Chace hadn’t been present at the pub, thank the holy gods above and the unholy gods below. But the little detour was rewarding, and Winter was now armed with the truth of Chace’s condition. The irritating being, Raven’s coworker, would be fine. Was fine. Was out doing…something.
In any case, the guy was up and walking without assistance, so Winter didn’t need to worry about keeping Raven abreast of the other day’s episode, when Chace had collapsed in a sweaty mess.
Winter made his way back to the palace with a newly settled sense of peace. As he prowled the long walk, the wind picked up and raced through the streets, sending banners fluttering, his cloak rippling, and his hair whipping into his view.
The drop in temperature did little to chill his comfort. The icy magic coursing through his veins left him generally immune.
But the gust… That was different. More annoying than anything.
The gale ripped at his hair, slapping the tendrils across his eyes and nose, causing wisps to get sucked into his mouth.
The lack of control over the weatherly effects dropped him into frosty irritation and ignited the desire within him to roar.
He pulled his hair back and tied it at the nape of his neck, then he shrouded his face with his cloak. Not only did the hood reduce the irritating effects of the wind, it also served as better camouflage.
With his pale complexion hidden and his common attire designed to help him blend in with the masses, no one greeted or bowed to him as he approached the palace and veered for the side servant entrance―one of the few locations where citizens could pass through supervised gateways in the palace’s surrounding protective magic.
The guards had stopped and identified Winter at the front wall and the subsequent second gate, but beyond that, the prince strode across the grounds like the employed rather than the employer.
It wasn’t his first time moving in and out of the palace in that manner, but the adventure never ceased to thrill him, albeit slightly.
Steps inside the side servant entrance, foot traffic stalled. Four guards ushered Raven into the bowels of the castle keep. They pushed and prodded her with the edges of their weapons like she was a prisoner.
Winter threw back the hood of his cloak and stepped forward. “What is the meaning of this?”
Murmurs, gasps, and bows from the surrounding servants ensued.
“Orders of the Crown, Your Highness,” one of the guards reported. “We are to escort her to the infirmary.”
“Infirmary?” Winter snapped his gaze to Raven and raked it over her from top to bottom, spotting no obvious wounds. “Were you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” She glanced at the guards to her left and to her right. “They just want to take my vitals. Make sure I wasn’t infected by the monster.”
She wiggled her fingers and pronounced “monster” like it was a sick joke, then she rolled her eyes and dropped her hands at her sides.
“What monster?”
Was she talking about the specters or an afflicted? Did something lurk in the citadel that he didn’t know about?
“There is no monster,” Raven deadpanned.
A guard cleared his throat. “The royal healer said—”
“There is no monster,” Raven repeated, louder and more definitively.
“Okay.” Winter extended his hand to Raven. “Why don’t I take her to the infirmary?”
The outspoken guard stepped between Winter and Raven, blocking the prince’s view and reach. “You are to remain at a safe distance until after she has been cleared.”
“Are you serious?” Winter’s temper wore thin, and he already wanted to snap at the men.
The men who were merely doing their jobs and following orders.
The guard nodded once. “Very serious, sire.”
“All right, then.” He leaned to the side, attempting to see around the blocking guard and catch a glimpse of Raven.
Resignation dulled her eyes, and her lips curled into something between a smile and a grimace.
“Need you usher her forward as if she were a dangerous prisoner? She is a guest here and should be treated as such.”
“We’ve been ordered to limit contact until after she’s been cleared of any infection.”
Winter grabbed the guard by the shoulders and pushed him to the side. “But—”
“It’s fine, Winter.” Raven took a step away and sighed. “It will only be a few tests, and then I’ll be back in my rooms before dinner.”
A muscle in his jaw worked and worked, his mind finding any comfort in the situation impossible.
What monster had she supposedly come in contact with? Why did they fear this monster had infected her? And why the need to treat her so crudely?
Valen had been Raven’s guide for the day, so no doubt Valen was responsible for the treatment Winter was witnessing. He dragged a deep breath through his chest to calm the winter beast threatening to claw itself free.
“Very well.” He turned his chilly blue gaze to Raven. “If you have not returned to your apartment by dinner, I shall come find you.”
Raven nodded then turned and followed the push and prod of the palace guards.
Winter exploded into action, stalking straight for Valen’s office and workshop.
A thump, a bang, heavy footsteps, and a slam. The sounds of a disquieted individual.
The commotion brought Winter to a pause steps short of the corner.
Valen was the most likely noise source. His office and workshop were the only rooms located in the adjoining corridor.
Reason might dictate that whatever monster attack Raven had supposedly suffered now had the royal healer agitated.
Utilizing a sliver of his magic, Winter glided around the turn and toward the office with no more rumble than that of a whispering wind.
The doors to both Valen’s office and workshop were open and still in motion, the office door slowly swinging back toward a close, and the workshop entrance doing the opposite…
the failed locking mechanism having allowed the door to rebound.
The fueled emotion the scene suggested seemed a tad over the top for what the guards had suggested was the situation at hand. Valen definitely had his moments. He could be overbearing and an uncultured cur, but he always kept his emotions in check.
Winter’s chilled wind magic silently swept him into the open space of Valen’s office door.
He chanced a peek inside. A mess of unorganized papers cluttered the desk surface, and on the bookshelves, a few folders were yanked forward, left out of order.
An open space suggested one or more were missing.
Someone had clearly been searching for something and had either been too anxious or in too much of a hurry to tidy up after themselves.
The scene suggested a mystery, and oh how Winter loved mysteries. Mysteries and puzzles. Like Raven. And now, it so may seem, Valen and his newly developed uncharacteristic behavior.
Winter continued into the workshop, silent as a whisper, and found the space surprisingly empty. Yet he knew Valen had stormed into the room only moments ago.