Chapter 40
The next several weeks passed in a happy blur.
Rowan slept often, ate her fill of delicious foods—meats and fruits and pastries she’d never tried before.
She took a shower, and even with a maid in the room in case she grew dizzy, it was as magical as she’d always imagined it would be.
The smell of smoke no longer clung to her hair.
The color came back to her skin and the hollows beneath her cheeks began to fill.
Her hand still pained her. It almost pained her more as the skin began to heal than when she’d first woken up.
The exercises Asher insisted she perform were awful, but she was getting better, stronger, with every passing day.
Her mother was happy. The staff was curious but accommodating.
Casrian’s men were beginning to grow restless.
Asher spoke of returning to the capital often, of wanting to return to his wife and daughter.
She’d only begun to take meals in the dining room two days ago and had been surprised at the welcome she received from Lew, Zac, and Ty.
Daris, Casrian’s best friend, treated her with polite reserve.
Kenet still regarded her with open suspicion.
Emrys and his men had returned immediately to the capital to make their report.
Casrian’s men waited on him.
They would have to go soon. He didn’t speak of that when he visited her every day.
She’d woken up alone in her bed that first morning, and he’d returned hours later with trimmed hair, a freshly shaven face and a clean uniform.
He’d developed an intense interest in the fae and had found an old travelogue in the library, written by a servant in the entourage of a young prince who’d visited Caetris decades before its fall.
The young man had been a rogue and an adventurer and many of the stories would have scandalized even Tilly.
Rowan had been shocked the first time they’d gotten to one of those—when Prince Morgan seduced the young wife of a Caetrisian lord.
He’d gotten caught in the act, “rod sunk and stones wet,” and nearly lost his eye in the duel that followed.
But that paled in comparison to what he’d gotten up to with the three sisters at the Black Bear Inn during a snowstorm that closed the Ishtan Pass for ten days.
There were sketches of cities carved into the stone of the mountains, endless forests, and castles that no longer existed.
Of people long dead. A whole world now fallen into ruin.
All of it was fascinating, but what she loved most was listening to Casrian’s voice, the low, steady roll of it as he read to her, with the fire burning behind him and the curtains closed against the darkness.
If anyone knew that he slept in her bed each night, no one commented on it.
She bled only a few days into their courtship, so there was no child.
Asher made her a tea to prevent pregnancy.
But even now that her menses had ended, Casrian still would do no more than touch her—slow strokes down her back, fingers threading through her hair, petting her until she purred like a cat.
He would kiss her, tease her, but he always retreated before it turned into anything more serious. It was frustrating as hell.
“The next time I take you, I’m taking you for good. In all ways.”
And she hadn’t agreed to that yet. She was still waiting for him to change his mind. He knew she was uncertain of him. Uncomfortable with his position as minor nobility. She didn’t know if she actually wanted to marry the witch hunter. She just liked being near him.
He was careful not to speak of the witch or the future or her uncanny skills. He seemed like he was trying not to scare her off.
She still dreamt of the witch. Casrian would hold her when she woke up screaming from the worst of the nightmares, the ones where she didn’t make it out of that cell.
She wasn’t the only one still haunted by the witch.
She knew that Casrian had four round sores on his thigh that wouldn’t heal.
He tried to hide them from her, but she knew they were still there.
“The priest said they would disappear with time,” he told her. “The demons try to make connection points in this world. Fae blood is only one thing they use. This curse is another way.”
She’d been horrified. “You’ve been cursed?”
He shrugged it off. “It formed a physical connection when it touched me. It can only reach me if I let it.”
“How?”
“The usual ways. Through my dreams, fears, desires. It’s the same as you and your nightmares, Rowan. We just have to resist them and they will fade.”
She thought those marks might be part of why he was holding himself back, and she hated the witch even more.
He walked with her in the gardens when she was well enough to do so.
He bought her clothes. She was annoyed that they were gowns, which she was sure she looked ridiculous in until she saw the way his eyes lit up whenever he saw her wearing one.
It had been all he could find on short notice, he said.
He’d sent a servant to a seamstress with her measurements to buy her breeches and shirts and new boots.
But she needed to wear something if she wanted to get out of bed.
She felt foolish as she walked down the long hallway.
Pale stone arched overhead. Her slippered feet whispered over the wooden floorboards.
The fabric of her gown swirled gently around her legs as she walked.
Her gown wasn’t fancy. It was soft wool, a deep gray-blue that the maid said matched her eyes.
Her hair was down, except for two strands at her temple that the girl had pulled back and secured with a ribbon.
A ribbon! Ridiculous. The maid had managed to tame her curls into smoother waves with scented oil.
Her glance in the mirror told her she looked pretty. Feminine. She also looked like a stranger. Her mother belonged here in this fancy house, but Rowan couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Everything felt like it fit strangely, just like the dress. Like she was playing a part and didn’t really belong.
But maybe she could. Every day it felt like she left a little more of the woods behind, the witch with it. She avoided charms. There were no trees in the garden. It was safe. And if it felt like she was giving up a piece of herself to buy that safety, it was worth it, wasn’t it?
Casrian was worth it.
She reached the library where Casrian had asked her to meet him.
It was a glorious room, maybe her favorite in the whole place.
Warm wooden shelves. A great fireplace. Leather chairs and reading lanterns.
Large arched windows and rows and rows of books that she hadn’t even begun to explore.
Casrian was seated in one of the leather chairs facing her.
Asher had taken the seat next to him. Daris stood beside the hearth, one shoulder propped against the stone mantel.
The three of them were speaking to another man who was seated in a chair with his back to the door.
Casrian and Asher rose immediately as she entered the room. Daris turned toward her and dipped his head in acknowledgment. She blushed at the courtesy.
The dark-haired man they were speaking with had also stood and now turned to face her. She stopped walking halfway across the room.
“Emrys.”
Emrys’s green eyes widened slightly when he saw her, his gaze dropping to take in her gown and the bandage on her hand.
When his gaze returned to her face, he smiled.
It was the first smile she’d seen from him.
It made him look young and charming. And that was unnerving because the last thing she wanted was to be charmed by a man who’d once put her in irons.
“Miss Yahl, it’s good to see you looking so well.”
She glared at him. “I suppose anyone would look better out of chains than in them.”
He bowed his head, taking the hit with a glitter of amusement in his eyes.
She looked at Casrian. “If you’re having a meeting, I can come back later.”
He moved toward her, the closed look on his face making her nervous.
She’d gotten to know him well enough to know when he was hiding his thoughts, which he did most of the time he was wearing the uniform.
The last couple of days he’d let her see behind that mask.
It was strange seeing it so firmly in place again.
He took her by the arm and led her to one of the chairs opposite Emrys. “You need to be here for this. It concerns you.” He didn’t sit down though. He stood beside and slightly behind her, almost like he was taking up a position as a guard.
She looked up at him questioningly, but his attention had returned to Emrys. She looked around the room. Daris watched Casrian with a slightly concerned frown. Asher gave her an encouraging smile.
“What is this about?” she asked.
Emrys settled back in his seat and picked up the glass of amber liquid he’d set aside.
“I was just telling these three about my trip to the capital. I reported directly to the archbishop. My men were also debriefed. The Church and king are grateful that we were able to kill the witch before the corruption spread beyond the woods. There will be commendations for this. They’re also dispatching an additional patrol to make certain that all the familiars are eliminated.
The fort will be destroyed. The land blessed. ”
That was good. She didn’t want any trace of that evil to remain so close to her friends. “What does this have to do with me?”
Emrys hesitated a beat, just long enough for fear to take root in her stomach. He cast an apologetic glance at Casrian before fixing his attention fully on her. “The archbishop has sent me to escort you to the capital.”
She blinked. The words didn’t make sense.
“I haven’t even decided whether I’m going to the capital.”