Chapter 38
Rowan didn’t remember how she’d come to be in this room.
She frowned up at the high stone ceiling.
She had some vague recollection of seeing the design that was carved there by candlelight, but she didn’t know when.
This morning, the sun was bright through the open window.
A cool late autumn breeze circled the room, lifting the edge of the curtain.
When she turned her head, she could see out the window to a tree.
The sky was a bright, clear blue dotted by blindingly white clouds that for some reason reminded her of the sleeves of Casrian’s shirts. The blue, the blue of his eyes.
She’d hit her head. She remembered that. It was probably why she was being so ridiculous.
Was she dead?
Maybe she was dead.
There’d been the witch. That awful cell.
Her aching head. She’d burned the witch.
She remembered the smell of scorched flesh, her own.
So much pain. She could still feel the burn of it.
Wait. No. She flexed her hand and hissed at the sting.
She was hurt. Surely if she were dead, she wouldn’t still feel that.
She remembered running from the burning witch. The familiar lunging at her. And from there, everything was hazy. Images came to her. Casrian. Her mother. That bastard Emrys. She thought they’d drugged her. Or maybe she’d had a fever.
With a groan, she forced herself to lift her head and take a longer look around the room. It was enormous. She definitely wasn’t in Toam. Likely not Sulen either. The bed alone could easily have slept a family of five. The linens were heavy, weighing down her limbs, making it hard to move.
She ached everywhere.
Her stomach turned nauseatingly when she tried to prop herself up on her arm.
Her bandaged hand brushed against the mattress and a jolt of pain lanced up her arm.
She closed her eyes until it faded to a dull pulse.
There wasn’t anyone in the room, but there was an empty chair drawn close to the bed.
Beside it was a table full of healing supplies. A bowl and pitcher, fresh bandages.
Maybe she was in a hospital, though it was a very fine room for a hospital. The walls were pale stone. The floors were warm and golden, polished smooth with years of wax. There was a large woolen rug in golds and greens.
A rich person’s home. That was clear from her surroundings. Her memory didn’t provide her any more information.
She remembered the dreams. A well of darkness. A cajoling voice.
She shivered. No…No, she wouldn’t think about that. They weren’t real. Only dreams. She was alive. Whole. Here. Wherever the hell here was.
A door opened, and she turned her head. Asher. Curly brown hair and warm hazel eyes. All cleaned up and smiling when he saw that she was awake.
“Rowan!” He quickly crossed the room. “You’re up. I thought you’d sleep through the day again.”
He moved around her, pushing a pillow behind her shoulders and gently easing her back. He touched her forehead to check for fever and then bent to peer searchingly into her eyes.
“You’re all right,” she whispered, relief flooding through her. They’d both made it out then. “The witch?”
“Dead.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Dead a week now.”
“A week?”
He winced and nodded toward her hand. “The burn was bad and there was the head wound. That wasn’t pretty either.
If we hadn’t had to move you, we probably wouldn’t have drugged you.
But we had to get you out of the woods, and there was no good way to do that.
We waited until you woke up that night in the woods. Do you remember that?”
She lifted her hand to rub her face, but whacked herself with her bandaged hand. It throbbed and she lowered it to the bed. “I think so? I don’t remember seeing you. Someone…” Dark hair. “Wait…It was Emrys’s medic, wasn’t it? I remember him from when they captured me.”
Asher nodded. “I had to go help the captain. We were worried the witch was going to try to escape into the Black Woods.”
“But you killed her instead.”
“Yes. The captain did. There was one death on our side—one of Emrys’s men—and a few injuries. By the time I got back to camp, Grigor had already dosed you for the pain. Burns are so hard.”
She knew that from her experience as a healer. It was strange to be on the other side of it. “Is Casrian all right?”
Asher’s expression softened. “He had a minor injury to his arm, but it hasn’t slowed him down. He insisted on bringing you all the way back here to the estate himself. It took three days to get here. Do you remember any of the journey?”
“Not really.” Flashes only.
“That’s just as well. He set a hard pace.”
“My mother—”
“Arrived yesterday and has been ordering me around since. She knows her craft.”
She winced. “Has she been very worried?”
“I’ll tell her you’re up as soon as I check you over, although she’ll probably do the same. May I?”
He gestured toward her head first and she nodded. He leaned forward and gently slid his hands behind her head. He felt at a sore spot there. “The swelling’s down. Any dizziness? Nausea?”
“Just when I first tried to move. It’s passed.”
“You need food. We’ve been forcing broth down your throat but you know how that is.” He pulled back. “How’s your vision?”
“Seems fine.”
He touched the wrist on her injured hand.
“We’ll leave this for now. I changed the bandage this morning.
It’s bad. I had to remove some dead tissue in the beginning.
There was blistering, but no sign of infection so far.
It’s going to scar, but I’m more worried about keeping it clean right now. Your mother made a salve.”
She smiled a little queasily. “Of course she did.”
“It will heal. We’ll talk about stretching exercises later.
” He blew out a breath and lifted his gaze to hers.
“What you did with the charm…it saved us. I know I argued against it, but it was a close fight to take down the witch even with two patrols. There are still men out in the woods hunting down the rest of the familiars. No one’s ever seen a witch that strong.
She would have killed us before they had a chance of reaching us for a rescue. You saved my life. Thank you.”
She squirmed a little under his regard. “It was nothing.”
“It was everything. I get to see my little girl again.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t used to receiving any kind of praise. She wasn’t used to people thanking her or looking at her with such open good will. But then…they’d been through something awful together. And they’d survived. She thought about how close they’d come to dying.
She reached for him, hooking him into a hug with her good arm. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”
“And I you.” He squeezed her shoulders.
When he pulled back, he said, “Casrian knows about the charm. Grigor and Emrys too. There was no way to hide it with the burn on your hand, but they haven’t told anyone else. They won’t.”
She stared.
“I won’t talk about the rest,” he said. “What happened in there—the things the witch said, what I saw—I won’t speak of it to anyone.”
What exactly had he seen?
She couldn’t ask. It was a door she really didn’t want to open. Maybe if Asher was willing to forget about it, then she could too.
He continued, all businesslike. “You should know that the physical recovery is only part of the battle. The memory of the ordeal can fester like an infection. You don’t have to talk to me, but you need to talk to someone.
A priest would be best.” He correctly read her expression and smiled.
“Or Casrian. He’s had the training for it. ”
She didn’t know if she could go to Casrian for help with this. He’d overreacted to the tracking spell. How could she tell him about the trees using her to fix an ancient spell below the fort? It scared her. She didn’t want him to know. And a priest was clearly out.
“Casrian’s been near frantic with worry, you know. He’s been—”
Asher broke off as the door opened.
Casrian stepped into the room.
He was all cleaned up again, shiny as a blade. Freshly shaved and wearing neatly tailored clothes. Black breeches and riding boots, a shockingly white shirt and dark waistcoat. A lock of blond hair fell across his forehead like he’d just run a hand through his hair.
He paused at the threshold like he wasn’t sure if he should enter. Then his blue eyes locked on hers, and he started forward.
“Captain,” Asher said brightly, rising from the bed. “Look who’s awake.”
“Is she all right?” Casrian’s voice was rough.
Though he directed the question to Asher, he kept staring at her, his sharp eyes taking everything in. Her puffy eyes and cracked lips. Her hair that felt itchy with dried sweat. Her bandaged hand lying on the blanket.
She lifted it and tried for a smile. “Looks like I got branded after all.”
Casrian did not look remotely amused. “Asher?”
Asher brushed his hands on his breeches and turned to face his captain, drawing himself up like a good soldier to give his report.
“She’s alert and as well as can be expected after being unconscious for so many days.
The head wound is healing well. I don’t think there will be any long-term consequences from that.
The hand will take time. She needs rest and food.
I’ll dose her again with some painkillers after that. ”
She scowled. “You’re not knocking me out again.”
“You’ll take whatever Asher tells you to take,” Casrian said.
“I think we both know better than that.”
“Shall we consult your mother?”
She huffed and leaned back against the pillows. He fought dirty.
Asher backed away from the bed. “It’s good to see you up and talking, Rowan. I’ll let your mother know you’re awake and send some food up.” He nodded at Casrian. “Captain.”
And he was gone, abandoning her like a coward. She’d thought they were friends.
Casrian stood looking down at her, as if he didn’t know what to say. It was strange to see him look uncertain. He was always so sure of himself. But she could feel it too. A wall stood between them.