Chapter 39
The room is even smaller than the one I slept in at the start of the Retterheld.
A lot smaller. The single bed fills up three-quarters of the space even though it’s pressed right up against the wall.
The only other piece of furniture is a stool with lopsided legs, which is propped against the doorframe.
I’m not even sure it would bear Kyor’s weight.
I push open the one internal door, hoping to find a bath I can sleep in, only to find nothing more than a toilet, a miniature sink, two towels, and a bar of soap. No shower or bath, but it’ll do for a wash and clean up, I tell myself stubbornly. This is fine. Fine.
‘We’ll get washed, and then we’ll sort out the sleeping arrangements,’ I tell him. Like scrubbing off the grime might be enough to make another bed appear.
‘After you,’ Kyor says, and I don’t object. I’m filthy. And not in a fun way.
Despite the lack of luxury, the water is warm, and I fill the sink as many times as it takes for the water to run clear.
‘All yours,’ I say to Kyor when I finally reappear, almost half an hour later. His eyes linger on my towel-covered body for a moment before he disappears into the bathroom without a word.
At least we’ll be warm and dry, I tell myself as I rummage through my belongings to find my cleanest clothes. Maybe I should see if we can get our laundry done while we’re here.
As I rifle through my bag, my mind wanders to Kay and William.
I need to get a letter to them while I’m here.
Not that I can say much, other than confirm I’m well, but I suspect that’s all they need to hear.
I wish they could get a message through to me too, though, to tell me how they’re doing.
What I wouldn’t give to know they are safe.
A desperate yearning fills my body as I think of the last time I saw my siblings, and before I have time to draw breath, I feel the floor slip away from me.
From the ringed walls that sweep around the buildings there’s no doubt as to where I am.
I’m back in Wrohelm, soaring through the air, the feel of the wind rushing through me as I dip into the High Hold and then the courtiers’ arc.
Eagerly, I head towards my house, but as the glass roof of our oratory comes into view, I don’t swoop down the way I expect to.
Instead, I keep going until I land on the window ledge of a house several streets away.
The curtains are mostly drawn, yet there is a sliver of a gap between them.
Tentatively, I edge myself towards it and glance through the glass.
William. My brother’s new name rattles through my thoughts as I stare at him, there alone in his room. Is this Artur’s house, or is William still staying with friends? I don’t know the answer, only that he’s here, alone.
Unaware that I’m watching on, he moves towards the door, turning the lock and then turning the handle once to check that it doesn’t open. When he’s sure it’s secure, he makes his way to the middle of the room, stands in front of a mirror, and unbuttons his shirt.
No! The word cries out in my mind at the sight of my little brother there, in front of me, his entire torso displayed. The markings have spread, and far faster than I could ever have feared.
Tears prick my eyes at the sight of not only the white lacy pattern on his skin, but also the fear in his eyes.
He did such a good job of convincing me that he was okay, that he had control of his situation, but I can see now that’s not true at all.
He’s scared. Terrified, even. I only wish I could be there to hold him.
To comfort him and tell him that I’m going to find a solution.
The markings aren’t confined to his stomach as he told me, but run all the way up his chest, stopping only a few inches below his collarbone.
Not only that, but they also cover his entire back, and I suspect they travel down onto his thighs.
I lean in, pressing myself against the glass.
All it would take is someone slicing through his shirt in a spar and his secret would be exposed.
He would be killed.
I can’t let that happen. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop the pain that is spreading through my chest. I can’t lose him again. I am going to find an answer to this. I have to.
‘Rose?’ My eyes snap open, and I find Kyor standing there in front of me, just a towel wrapped around his middle. ‘Are you okay?’
It takes a moment to find myself. The scene I’m faced with is so different from what I saw a moment ago. Now my eyes are locked on the half-naked prince, the sight of thick water droplets trickling down his neck and torso enough to steal my breath.
‘Did something happen?’ he asks with concern.
With my head now back in the moment, and with the knowledge that I have returned again from one of my slippages, the truth teeters on my tongue.
He knows about the visions. It would hardly be a surprise to him if I told him I just had one, but then he’d spend all night worrying, and he needs to rest even more than I do.
Or worse, he’d ask what I saw, and I’d be forced to lie. He can’t know about William. He can’t.
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ I tell him, forcing a smile to my lips. ‘I’m fine.’
His eyes narrow as if he doesn’t believe me, but a second later, he’s looking at the bed. ‘You take the room,’ he says, evidently assuming that’s the cause of my distress. ‘I’ll sleep outside.’
‘Outside?’
‘In the corridor. I’ll be close enough to hear if anything happens to you. That’s what matters. You’ll be safe and secure here.’
He would do it, too. Despite his injuries, if I were to tell him I didn’t want him to share this tiny bed with me, he would sleep outside on the cold, hard floor. Or more likely, lie awake all night, the drums from below thrumming through the walls, more muffled up here but impossible to ignore.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh out a long breath. ‘Absolutely not. You’re injured, so sleeping on the floor is total idiocy. Look, we slept in the same bed yesterday, and it was absolutely fine.’
‘That thing didn’t count as a bed, and I was unconscious,’ Kyor points out drily.
‘Right. But so long as you can keep your hands to yourself, it’ll be fine.
’ My eyes move to his shoulder. The wound is visibly red, and I grimace at the angry look of the cut.
It might not be bleeding, but it’s barely knit together.
Dammit. I should have taken him into Galreck’s court, got him seen by a proper healer.
It’s a suggestion I could still make, but him turning up like this would be worse than if we’d gone straight there. It would raise too many questions about why he avoided coming in the first place.
‘I have some paste that might help with the pain,’ I tell him.
‘It’s not that bad,’ he lies. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not,’ I reply calmly, as if we are discussing the weather. ‘Let me do this for you.’
Trying to pretend that this is nothing more than standard healing work and ignoring the hammering in my chest, I grab my satchel and pull out the small jar.
With the paste on my clean fingers, I rub it lightly across his skin.
I barely brush the wound, yet he sucks in a sharp breath.
I pause only long enough to meet his eyes.
‘I’m sorry. Breathe through it,’ I advise quietly. ‘Low and slow.’
The nod he offers is minuscule, but it’s there. He breathes in, then exhales slowly and controlled, and lets me continue.
I take another – more generous – swipe of the thick paste and begin to rub it in, pressing firmly enough that he hisses through his teeth.
‘Sorry,’ I mutter as I continue to rub the lotion into his skin. ‘I need to get it in deep.’
‘Pretty sure that’s my line?’ He smirks.
I offer an eye roll in response, trying to act as if his words don’t have any effect. Or that I’m not enjoying the feel of his skin under the pads of my fingers, feeling his body in a way I never thought I’d get a chance to again.
Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy.
‘Better?’ I ask eventually.
He grunts and nods before glancing at my pile of dirty clothes.
‘The innkeeper will clean them for us,’ he says, echoing my earlier thoughts.
‘I’ll take these down for her to get started.
I’ll also arrange for her to put together some travel supplies for us.
Do you need anything else now? Food? Drink? ’
‘I wouldn’t say no to something else to eat,’ I admit. Fresh food will become a luxury again once we’re on the road.
‘Yes, I hear you. I’ll grab us something.’
He picks up a pair of clean trousers, ready to slip them on, and I find myself turning away. Whether it’s embarrassment or simply not wanting to be reminded of what I’m missing, I’m not sure.
He disappears and I grab a brush to start on the white-blonde tresses that should mark me as magic-less.
I’ve no idea why Kay’s brunette hair and mine didn’t return with my magic.
Truthfully, though, I’ve grown accustomed to the blonde, and if my locks turned brown again, I’d miss it.
Once a mark of shame, I now see it as a badge of strength.
I’m still brushing my hair when Kyor comes in, and he stops on the threshold. His jaw drops open at the sight of me.
‘Fuck, you’re beautiful.’ He whispers the words quietly enough that I can pretend I didn’t hear him.
And that’s exactly what I do, because things are already complicated enough.
He gives himself a shake, clacks his jaw closed, and enters.
He’s carrying a tray laden with food: crackers, ham, cheese, and grapes.
Also balanced on the tray are two glasses of wine.
He sets the tray down on the rickety stool and then strips off his top and trousers and throws them out through the door.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Landlady wanted to wash these, too. Tried to make me strip downstairs in the bar. This felt like a better option.’