23. Winter
From his position in the hallway, the conversation on the other side of the door between Valen and Raven was indistinguishable.
If he could use a breeze to carry their words to him, he would be tempted. But as things stood…
He glanced over the iron bracelet Lucas had secured around his wrist.
No magic could be accessed. At least he’d verified Valen was busy and would be for an hour, probably more.
Winter was less than thrilled that Raven was spending time with the royal healer, but he had to trust she’d be safe, given many of the palace staff knew of her whereabouts and with whom she spent time.
The prince strode away on silent feet, heading straight for Valen’s workshop.
Since Lucas had couped him up in a magical detox, Winter had limited information regarding events in the palace during those down days.
Lucas hadn’t heard anything about the glove the prince had taken during his last visit to the workshop, so Winter didn’t know if Valen had yet noticed the item was missing or not.
The workshop door was locked, as Winter had expected. But he hadn’t dwelled in the same palace with the royal healer for a century and not managed to get his own key to every desired space.
He had swiped Valen’s key over eighty years ago and had a copy made. At the time, he’d thought it would be fun to go through all the stuff the healer kept locked up. In truth, the caper had turned out rather boring. But Winter didn’t know about the secret door and stairwell back then.
So, this time things were different.
The workroom door opened with a soft click, and Winter let himself in. Quietly, he closed the door behind him.
The many items cluttering the shelves and work surfaces looked familiar to him. He breezed past them with hardly a glance, making straight for the door at the back.
Access to the small closet was given without issue, but the hidden doorway in the back wall, the one that led to the tight stairwell and whatever awaited beyond…
That refused to budge. And, as it turned out, Winter had no key for the hatch blocking his way and no magic available to unlatch the lock.
He yanked on the handle even though he knew his efforts would be hopeless. The door would not open. Gritting his teeth, he released a low growl and slammed his fist to the ungiving barrier. A faint shuffle found his ear, a noise from beyond the locked door.
He pressed his ear against the surface and called out, “Hello? I can barely hear you. Are you in need of help? Rescuing perhaps?” The image of him playing the savior tickled him in all the right places. “Are you there?”
Several scoffs and muffled thumps answered.
“Hello?” he called again.
I can hear you in there.
That, or a small herd of rats, large as dogs.
“Hello?”
An inhuman screech responded. The sound raced from the level at the bottom of the stairs, up and through the locked door.
And, as if hit by a supersonic sound wave, Winter flew backward. Slammed into the wall at his back. Then dropped on his butt to the ground.
“What in all the realm?” He rubbed the side of his head, the reverberations of the screech still sounding in his too-sensitive ears.
Monster, his mind whispered.
Can it be true? Is Valen keeping a monster in the palace?
He spared a quick glance to his left and to his right, as if expecting to spy someone who’d seen his trespassing.
Surely someone heard that scream and would come to investigate.
When they did, he couldn’t be sitting around staring at the locked door like a dunce.
He needed to pull his thumb out of his sexy butt and skip out immediately.
“Sorry,” he whispered at the door, for reasons he couldn’t grasp, and then launched himself into action.
He moved from the room, the wing, as fast as he could without drawing unwanted attention.
When he stopped to take a breath and consider all that he had experienced, he found himself standing a foot inside Raven’s rooms, the mirror hiding the secret passage at his side. He’d been moving on instinct and yet had found himself drawn toward Raven. What did that say about him?
Had she become his new coping mechanism?
He moved deeper into the room, sweeping a gaze over every surface and shadow. The room was empty. She was likely still with Valen.
Unless the royal healer had heard the screech and sent Raven away.
But they’d been far enough away that maybe Valen hadn’t heard, and no one had told him. For all Winter knew, Valen’s workshop was soundproof. Winter had certainly not heard anything echoing through the walls during any of his few visits.
So, he guessed he had time. But why did he need time alone in Raven’s rooms? Why had he come here?
He dropped his focus to the spot where he had watched Raven smiling and talking to the crows that morning, before she realized he was present. A hint of a grin tugged at one side of his mouth. Then he dragged his attention to her bed, or more specifically, her headboard.
Without another moment of hesitation, he crossed the room and reached behind the monstrous piece of furniture. He was certain he’d witnessed her pull something from behind it. He patted and swept his palm against the connected surfaces, feeling the edges for something, anything.
Moving his fingers along the seam between the post and flat board, his touch danced over a protruding blunt edge.
It felt like paper. He yanked it free. Took a seat on the bed and immediately investigated.
In his hands, he held a message, and even without a signature, he knew without a doubt that Chace wrote the letter.
How? How had he gotten a message to her in the palace?
The letter was something about invisible winds and staying on perches, waiting for the crow caw. None of that made sense to Winter. But if he were to venture a guess, he would presume Chace was telling Raven to stay put.
Had she planned on leaving?
He folded the message, crumpling it in his grasp. His gaze dropped to the iron bracelet for the ninetieth time that day. The fact that his magic was currently unavailable to him was probably a good thing. Otherwise, his emotions might have turned Raven’s room into an ice fortress.
He was usually a rather calm person. He had to still be edgy from all the magic he’d inhaled from Raven. From the way he’d felt, continued to feel, he suspected he’d collected more than just his magic.
He stood, dropping the note on the bed. Then, thinking better of the action, collected the message and shoved it into his pocket. Marched for the secret passage to his room and beyond, straight out the palace gates into the surrounding citadel.
Winter arrived at the Bridge Crossings Pub to find the place somewhat busy, the waitstaff unfamiliar, and Aoes pacing behind the bar.
At the sight of Winter, Aoes jolted, and his face brightened.
“My brother!” He hopped over the bar and closed the distance with a dash. Pulled Winter into a hug. “I’ve missed you, brother. You been too busy to make time for old friends?”
“I’m never too busy for you.” Winter drew back and patted Aoes’s shoulders. “I’ve been out of commission for a few days. Four, to be exact.”
Aoes’s brow furrowed. “Are you all right? What’s been going on?”
What’s been going on, indeed. Winter missed his confidante and wanted to bend his friend’s ear, but he needed to be sure of one thing first. He scanned the pub to verify the absence of Raven’s irritating coworker.
Taking note of Winter’s roving eye, Aoes raised his chin toward a few spots throughout the pub with which Winter was familiar. Locations he knew were connected to the monitoring system in the room below.
“Is he here?” Winter asked in a low tone.
Aoes nodded and tugged him toward the back hall and the room at the end. Aoes’s private quarters. A place free from any outside surveillance.
“Where’s Earl?” Winter glanced over his shoulder to the pub’s serving area.
“Running an errand.” Aoes reached for the door. “But I’m starting to worry. He’s been gone far too long.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” Winter hoped he wasn’t lying.
Earl was already afflicted. What else could possibly happen to him?
“I’m sure you’re right.” Aoes ushered Winter into the room and shut the door. He grabbed the bottle of whisky from the table and poured them each a drink. Offered Winter a glass. “So…what secretive upchuck is going on?”
Winter stared at the amber liquid. After what he’d done several nights prior—the drinking, the magic high, his actions toward Raven… Winter couldn’t bring himself to take a drink. He accepted the glass, set it aside, and proceeded to ignore it.
He began to pace. “Remember the day Raven dragged a comatose me back here through the tunnels and did whatever it was she did that pulled me back to the living?”
“How could I ever forget?” Aoes watched his friend with clear concern in his gaze.
“Something happened when she did what she did,” Winter continued. “And she ended up with some of my magic under her skin.”
“What!” Aoes jerked, sloshing alcohol over the sides of his glass. “You used to pack some pretty potent stuff. Is she all right?”
“Yeah.” He scratched his chest. “Well, I think she is. She says she is, but I seriously messed up with her.”
“Hey. Calm down.” Aoes grabbed Winter’s shoulder and stopped the male’s pacing. “Take a seat and tell me what happened.”
Winter followed his friend’s suggestion, dropping onto the nearest seat. A worn leather wingback. Aoes settled onto the adjacent sofa and leaned into the conversation.
“She had my magic,” Winter said. “So, with her express approval, I extracted it. Took it back. It was a lot, and I think it scared her, but she’s all right…
so she says. But when I took back my magic, I kind of lost control.
It was like when we used to share at parties, but a thousand times more intense.
Lucas had to lock me up for four days before I settled enough to be around her again. And I’m still not sure I’m ready.”
His gaze wandered to the glass of liquor he’d abandoned. Maybe he should have kept it closer.
“Lucas put this on me, though.” He lifted his hand, showing off his iron bracelet. “So that’s helping.”
Aoes stood, his body shaking with what looked like nervous energy. “If you’re in danger of relapsing, maybe Raven shouldn’t be staying under the same roof as you. Not if she’s too tempting. She could come back here. I still have her room.”
Of course Aoes still had her room. There hadn’t been an influx of visitors to the citadel since the curse began. But that was beside the point.
“I don’t think she should leave the palace,” Winter said, recalling the contents of Chace’s letter.
“And why is that?” Aoes asked. “If you start tripping and she’s conveniently close—”
“Chace wants her to stay at the palace,” Winter blurted. “He thinks it’s safer.”
Aoes raised an eyebrow and stared at Winter. “And when did you talk to Chace?”
“I haven’t.”
“Then how do you know?”
Winter tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “I just do. You’ll need to trust me on that.”
Aoes knocked back his drink, swallowing the full glass of liquid in one shot. He set down the empty glass and leaned against the back credenza. Breathed in silence for a moment, or five.
“I don’t think—”
A knock came at the door, stilling the conversation and robbing Winter of Aoes’s forthcoming thought. Winter dropped his head, pressing his hands to his temples, as Aoes answered the door.
The pub manager sucked back a breath. “Hey.” He pulled the door tight to his side, blocking any view of Winter from whomever stood in the hall. “Have I told you how different your signature looks since you woke up from that fever?”
Signature? Was Aoes talking about his magical gift? Winter hadn’t heard the guy talk about aura signatures in years.
The door swung open, pushed by the person in the hall—Chace. His gaze swept past Aoes and fell directly on Winter.
Tall, tense, and exuding a darker essence than he recalled the man previously hosting, Chace stalked into the room, looking every bit the beast ready to raise hell or raze kingdoms. Winter’s magic recoiled, recognizing something Winter failed to glean.
Chace’s jaw muscle feathered. “I was overcome with a heavy sense that matters that might concern me were being discussed.”