Chapter 22
T he smell reached me before we even made it through the kitchen doorway.
Butter, warm apples, and something sweet enough to make my empty stomach ache.
I stopped so abruptly beneath the threshold to breathe it in, Xandros nearly walked into my back.
His hand settled at my waist before he caught himself, warm through the thin fabric of my shirt. “Is there a problem?”
I stared at the table in the center of the room and shook my head.
“No. For the first time, everything feels just right.”
Then I crossed the room before I could decide whether the food was intended for someone else.
A stack of griddle cakes sat beneath a folded cloth, their browned edges peeking out beneath it. Beside them, apples had been cooked down until their pale flesh had turned gold and glossy, swimming in their own syrup with enough spice to heat the air.
Eggs steamed in a shallow dish near a heap of potatoes crisped dark at the corners and scattered with chopped herbs.
The healer working near the shelves glanced over as I pulled out a chair, amusement softening the lines around her mouth. She waved toward the table as if granting permission I had no intention of waiting for.
I lifted the cloth.
Steam rolled over my fingers.
My mouth watered so abruptly it hurt. “I may never leave.”
“Perhaps the Deepwood has finally found the secret to keep you contained.”
I scooped potatoes onto my plate, placing an egg on top. Then did the same for Xandros. The yolk broke and ran over the crispy edges, coating them in yellow.
“I think you’ll have just as much trouble leaving once you try Meri’s apple cakes,” I said, stacking several of those onto our plates as well.
The cakes were speckled with oats and bits of apple, their surfaces mottled brown from the griddle. I took two, reconsidered the hollow ache beneath my ribs, and added a third.
Xandros sat across from me, a grin tempting the corner of his lips as he watched.
Butter melted the moment I dragged it across the first cake, disappearing into the rough surface and gathering in the tiny cracks around the pieces of apple. I spooned more apples over the top and watched the honey trickle slowly from the wooden dipper.
Meri brought over two steaming cups of black tea, resting them between us, before snagging one of the apple cakes for herself. I thanked her and then dug in.
My first bite made my eyes close.
The crisp edge broke beneath my teeth before giving way to the warm, soft center. Oats gave it more weight than ordinary bread, and the apples were sweet enough to taste almost candied where they had browned against the pan. Butter and honey soaked through all of it.
Delicious, sweet heat spread across my tongue, and I let out a groan before I could swallow it.
I opened my eyes to find Xandros watching me. He had stopped with his cup halfway to his mouth.
I pointed my fork at him. “Say nothing.”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
“Nothing.”
His expression made it worse.
I cut another piece and dragged it through the syrup left by the apples. “I have spent weeks being chased, threatened, bled on, nearly killed, dragged through the Veil, and interrogated by my own Circle. I am allowed to enjoy breakfast.”
“And I have made no argument against it.”
“You were about to.” I said the words around another mouthful of apple cake.
Xandros smiled and took a sip of tea. “No, I was just considering how much I enjoyed seeing you happy.”
My fork slowed.
His gaze remained on me, the humor still there, softened around the edges by something that heated my skin more effectively than the food.
I put the bite in my mouth before I could think too hard about it.
The potatoes were nearly as good. Crisp outside, soft beneath, with rosemary crushed over them and enough salt to make me reach immediately for another. More of the egg yolk broke beneath my fork and ran golden-yellow across the plate, catching between the browned pieces.
Finally, it was Xandros' turn, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he took his first bite of the crispy cake.
“Told you.”
He ignored me completely, focusing on his plate instead. And for several minutes, neither of us spoke.
I had forgotten how good hunger could feel when there was enough food in front of me to satisfy it and no one around me in immediate danger.
Every bite loosened something in my body. The tight pull across my shoulders eased. Warmth settled into my belly, heavy and pleasant.
Across from me, Xandros ate with the focus of someone equally unwilling to waste the opportunity.
His hair was still slightly mussed from sleep, pale strands falling across his forehead rather than lying neatly back from it. The sight snagged my attention every time I looked up.
Prince Xandros Umbriel, heir to nothing I understood and brother to a king who had tried to imprison us, sat in a Druid kitchen with a smear of honey near his thumb.
Something about it made my chest ache.
Bramble climbed onto the bench beside me and stretched his long body toward my plate.
“No,” I said, blocking him with my elbow. “Use your manners...and your own plate.”
He sat back on his haunches, raising his body up to his full height like one of those stodgy human gentlemen.
I added a few of the soft-boiled eggs to his plate, along with a heaping spoonful of berries. He didn’t wait for me to set the plate down on the bench beside me, attacking the first egg he could grab with the same ferocity I had shown those apple cakes.
Xandros laughed, and the sound soothed every part of me.
“I can see why you call them your Kindred now. There are many similarities between you.”
The healer’s kitchen was busy around us, filled with the scrape of bowls and the soft thud of cupboards opening and closing.
Morning light filtered through the woven vines and roots overhead in narrow shafts, catching steam from the kettles.
Someone had hung damp bundles of feverfew beside the hearth, and their sharp green scent mixed with roasted onions and fresh bread.
No one was screaming.
No road strained beneath my hands.
No king watched me across a table and decided what parts of me might keep his kingdom alive.
For the length of one meal, Xandros sat across from me with his knee bumping mine beneath the table every time he shifted, and I let myself eat until my stomach was full.
Nessa permitted us into Rhian’s chamber afterward for less time than it took her to change the linens on the neighboring bed.
I didn’t argue with her. Much. Though I did have her inspect my middle fingers again, which had the intended effect of making Rhian laugh.
He was awake when we went in. His voice remained rough, and exhaustion dragged at his face, but his eyes followed me clearly when I sat beside him.
He knew me. He had heard enough to know about Xandros.
He studied us in between stories and laughter and managed to make it plain within a handful of words that nearly dying had done nothing to improve his opinion of my decision-making.
I had spent days imagining his voice until I could barely remember its exact sound.
Hearing it again left me holding grateful tears at bay.
I held his hand until his eyes began drifting closed. Xandros stayed near the foot of the bed, quiet enough that Rhian never had to spend what little strength he had to acknowledge him.
Bramble had other ideas.
He climbed onto Rhian’s blanket, circled twice beside his hip, and collapsed into a dark coil of fur before Nessa could order any of us out.
When I reached for him, he flattened himself against the bed.
A satisfied, stubborn contentment pressed through our bond.
I stared at him, but he tucked his nose beneath his tail.
“Traitor.”
One round ear twitched.
Nessa pointed toward the door.
I gave Rhian’s fingers one last squeeze and stood.
Xandros' hand settled against the small of my back as we stepped into the passage, warm and steady through my tunic. He left it there until the wall curved behind us and Rhian disappeared from sight.
I released a breath through my nose.
Druids moved between the infirmary chambers with baskets and clean linens. A healer hurried past, carrying an armful of dried herbs. Somewhere farther beneath the Mother Tree, water trickled through stone.
The entire Grove seemed to be working.
Maren’s scribes would be digging through maps. Caelan would be gathering patrol reports. The Circle had given us hours before they expected anything else.
Hours.
I turned toward Xandros.
His hair was tied back into a knot, though several pale strands had escaped around his face. There was dirt beneath one edge of his collar. A dark smear crossed the sleeve near his elbow, and dried blood still marked one cuff from wounds I could no longer remember either of us receiving.
I was fairly certain I looked worse.
“Maren told us to wash.”
His gaze narrowed slightly. “I remember.”
“She is an elder.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
“Ignoring an elder’s direct order would be disrespectful.”
His stare traveled over me, heat flashing in his silver gaze that sent a shiver down my spine.
I waited.
“I wouldn’t want to be disrespectful,” he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
My breath caught in my lungs as his fingers traced the edge of my jaw before lingering on my neck.
I quietly caught his wrist, pulling him toward the nearest passage. His fingers turned beneath mine until our palms met.
Gold simmered between them, and my pulse skipped once.
Xandros fell into step beside me.
The bathing springs sat beyond the southern edge of the Grove where the Mother Tree’s oldest roots dipped beneath a shelf of dark stone. Hot water rose from deep underground and fed a series of shallow pools before spilling into a colder stream that wound east through the forest.