Chapter 26
Istand in the library, palms flattened atop the dark wood of the conference table, my body trembling. Everything hurts. My skin, my teeth, my bones.
And I’m so very tired.
A dozen other witches are seated around the table holding hands, softly singing chants of protection as I stare at the old map of Frostwater Wood sprawling before me.
Colden and Alexus drew the map in meticulous detail many years ago.
I’m thankful for it now, because without a visual guide to hold against the new lay of the land I’ve created, I’m not sure I could’ve maintained the construct, wreaked havoc on Eastlanders, tracked the prince, and built a refuge—all while trapping a creature that shouldn’t exist.
I’ve never seen a wraith. To my knowledge, no one living has. And yet I saw this one’s demonic power in my mind, dark and oily as a puddle of spilled ink in the construct. Ever present, like it wanted me to know it was there and wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.
Once I sensed a malevolent being with my sister, I soon sensed a woman with her as well. For a while, I thought perhaps two others traveled with Raina and Alexus, but it didn’t take long before I recognized the presence belonged to Helena Owyn, someone I haven’t seen since she was a child.
And she harbored an evil spirit that wanted to kill, and almost did.
Until I stopped it.
“Perhaps you should take a break now that Raina and Alexus have moved on from your refuge,” Colden says, his voice drifting across my ear.
Though I know he’s in the room, I still nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of his deep voice over the soft song humming through the room.
His comforting hands grip my waist to steady me, his brows knitting tight as he looks me over with scrutinizing study. “That wraith still getting to you?”
“I just can’t shake it,” I reply, thinking about that infernal darkness, the oily, vile presence in the forest that haunts me when I try to sleep.
But the truth is that it’s all haunting me. The killing, the labor of holding the construct in my mind, picturing Helena in the cage I made, the misery of my sister and Alexus against the bitter cold, even as I try to help them. I feel as evil as that godsdamn wraith.
And then there’s the prince. That shadowy menace floating through the construct.
He’s coming for my king, and with each passing hour, I grow more uncertain that I can stop him.
Softly, Colden trails his thumb underneath my eye, where a bruised half-moon no doubt sits. He looks little better. Neither one of us have slept more than a handful of hours over the last few days, walking around in a fog.
His midnight stare takes in my shaking hands, my quivering chin, and my sweat-dampened face, too. More narrowed study follows, as if he sees all the things I don’t want him to worry about.
He jerks his chin at the other witches. “Leave us, please, but send Rowena with damp cloths and fresh drinking water. Nephele isn’t well.”
Their chanting dies, and though each person glances at me with concern, they file out of the room as told, closing the doors behind them.
With a cocked brow, Colden touches the back of his cool fingers to my forehead like my mother used to do. “Gods’ death, you’re burning up.”
“I’m fine, it’s from all the magick. It’ll pass now that I’m no longer maintaining the refuge.” I swipe my hand across my damp forehead and try my damnedest to stiffen my spine, but I’m suddenly incapable of remaining upright.
For a second, the world winks out, and I collapse against Colden’s strong body. As always, he’s there to catch me.
“This is the reason I’m still here and not in that forest.” He bends down and scoops me into his arms. “Someone has to take care of you, because you bloody well won’t take care of yourself.”
I want to snap back with something sarcastic, but I don’t argue, especially when he lowers me to the settee in front of the hearth and aims a finger at the fire. Quickly, he smothers the low flames with a burst of frost that leaves a trail of ice crystals scattered across the fine rug.
Just as Colden tucks a small throw pillow behind my head and begins tugging off my boots, the door opens. Rowena hurries into the room with a silver bucket in one hand, and a carafe in the other.
She glances nervously between us, then around the room as a quick shiver visibly rocks through her. “Everything all right? Is she faint? How can I help?”
“She just overexerted herself and got a little fevered,” Colden says, taking the items from Rowena.
“I can care for her, and I’ll carry her to bed later.
” He shrugs. “It’s no different than when she used to stroll upstairs after too many hours of training and pass out by my door.
” He leans close, eyes playful, something I’m glad to see.
“Were you just trying to get into my pants?” he whispers.
Though it isn’t my best or brightest, I smile, which was his intention. “But of course.”
He winks and turns back to Rowena. “If you and the staff would make certain the other witches are feeling up to task, I would appreciate the help. Nephele needs their support with the construct right now.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, of course we will. Take care of our girl.” Rowena kisses me on the forehead and squeezes my arm before leaving the room.
Colden holds up the bucket and carafe with the delight of a child showing me their favorite playthings. The tips of his fingers grow white as snow, with tiny blue veins of light crackling underneath his ivory skin.
A soft frost spreads over the bucket’s metal exterior as condensation beads on the glass carafe. The room temperature cools, too, as if a northern wind blasted through an open window.
I smile at his magick and watch as he pours a now-cold glass of water, which I quickly drain. If only it could rinse away the foulness of these last several days from my mind.
Colden sits beside me and withdraws a damp cloth from the bucket, folds it in half, and lays it across my forehead. The linen isn’t frigid against my skin, only cool enough to provide respite from the heat coursing inside my body.
So much magick. Sometimes I feel like I might shatter into pure power.
With a practiced hand, he unbuttons my tunic down to my navel and spreads the fabric, baring my torso.
I think to make light of the moment with sexual innuendo to make him laugh, because we both need levity right now.
But he runs that cool cloth down my heated neck to my reddened chest, and all I can do is let out a long, breathy sigh of relief.
He drags the linen further down, over the slight swell of my breasts, careful to avoid my undergarment, before slipping the damp cloth across the flat of my abdomen, sending a chill racing along my fevered skin.
“Better now?” he asks.
“Much better.
“I’m quite good at this.”
“You are,” I reply, amused and thankful.
Exhausted, I tip my head against the pillow and close my eyes while Colden works. He takes his time, caring for me as only Colden can, tracing the many witch’s marks covering my skin.
A part of me often wishes we were both more capable of romantic love and commitment than we are, but another part knows this friendship couldn’t be better than it already is. If there’s something more out there for me, gods know I haven’t found it yet.
Outside, a wolf howls low and long through the night. I blink open my eyes to find Colden still sitting beside me, staring blankly at the arched window across the room, a million thoughts swirling behind those dark eyes.
“What’s bothering you?” I ask, sliding my hand underneath his.
He pulls his gaze from the window, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the inside of my wrist. “Alexus is in turmoil right now,” he finally says. “Inner turmoil. I feel it, and I don’t like it.”
I remove the cloth from my forehead. “Of course he is. He’s been facing internal conflict for as long as I’ve known him, but of course he’s dealing with it now.
He and Raina both. But he’s safe, and he’s also relieved—if what I’m sensing is correct—so try not to worry.
We can’t know what happened to make him feel this way. It could be anything.”
Colden’s mouth twists into an annoyed smirk. “Well, we do know one thing that’s happened that might’ve made him feel this way. One very irresponsible thing that was a splendid way to get himself killed. If I know Alexus, he’s currently riddled with guilt, and I, for one, am not upset about that.”
I smile. I can’t help it. Colden has a way of making even the worst moments tolerable.
“We don’t know for sure that it even happened,” I remind him.
“And if it did, then they’re two consenting adults who were clearly worried they may not live through this, that’s all.
Otherwise, the last thing Alexus Thibault would do is be intimate with a woman he’s only recently met, much less my sister.
And Raina hates him. She always has. She’s just… struggling.”
“Struggling.” Colden laughs. “Is that what the youth call fucking your enemy now?” With a roll of his eyes, he tosses the cloth into the bucket and heads to the liquor cabinet, where he pours himself a long shot of whiskey.
“It’s not like Alexus, and that’s what worries me.
He knows the risk of letting his guard down, and for three hundred years, he has, for the most part, refused to do such a thing, even when I pleaded for him to let loose and have some fun.
And yet, he meets your sister, and suddenly he’s fucking her in the middle of a frozen forest while being hunted by maniac warriors, with nary a care for his life, just his dick.
” He tips the glass to his lips and downs the whiskey.
“Bit annoying if you ask me, and quite out of character.”