Chapter 45
I look between the two of them with curiosity, and Varrik lets out a relieved sigh. “Finally.”
“Yeah,” Frid replies. “I didn’t know where you were, so we fed his group and then put them in the south wing for a drink.”
“Good. I’ll be right down.”
Frid nods and leaves, and I turn to Varrik. “Who’s Conrad?”
“He’s a Govern of a neighboring territory, and one of my closest allies. I’m sorry to cut our time short, but I’d like you to come and meet him.”
Surprise filters through me. “Oh. Umm, sure.”
He takes my hand and tugs me off the terrace and through the room.
Together, we exit and go down a flight of stairs.
We’re quiet as we walk, and I’m a little trepidatious about who I’m about to meet and why Varrik is including me, but I’m glad he is.
It feels like he’s opening himself up to me, in more ways than one.
We go down a corridor of silver wallpaper with faint floral accents. Dark wood paneling on the bottom half of the walls bleeds into the same wood on the floor, and we pass a couple of guards who nod in greeting. Varrik doesn’t drop my hand, and I see them eyeing where we’re clasped.
I wonder what they all must think. Between the guards and servants knowing I’ve been kept in his rooms, and the fiends hearing from Varrik himself that I’ve been in his bed, the rumors must be rampant.
There’s no changing that now, but since things have shifted between us, I don’t feel like a captive anymore. And there’s a simple way for me to check.
I look over at his profile. “I want my own room.”
His brows draw down. “What?”
“My own room. I don’t want to be locked in yours anymore.”
This request is less a demand than it is a test. I want to see if he’ll do it. Want to see if things really have changed.
The frown deepens on his face, and it takes him a moment to answer. “I’ll consider it.”
Disappointment chips into my gut. “But—”
“We’re here.” He stops us in front of a door, and I can hear voices on the other side. Varrik looks over at me. “Ready?”
“I have no idea.”
Amused, he lets us in, and I’m instantly met with the stench of smoke and drink.
The parlor room is hazy, with burgundy walls and a masculinity to the space accented by the sword hanging over the fireplace, and the thick, blocky furniture.
Dark red chairs have been moved around in clusters to accommodate the group inside, and with one glance, I realize everyone here is a Core fae.
Intimidation tackles me. The amount of power in this one room boggles my mind.
There are both men and women, and they’re gathered around, blowing out pipe smoke or clutching amber-filled glasses.
Our entry catches some eyes, and I see a man leaning against the wall at the back as he lifts his glass in greeting. “Varrrrrrrik!” he calls out, sounding both happy and incredibly drunk. “Well met, you pipe-blowing prick!”
Several people laugh and call out too, and I steal a look up at Varrik, watching as his lips curve. “Linus. I see you’re just as witless as ever.”
More laughs sound out.
One man breaks apart from the group and strides forward wearing a jerkin that looks like it’s threaded with real gold.
He’s strikingly handsome, with freckles splattered over his skin, and orange hair shiny enough to catch the light from the sconces.
The smile lines on his cheeks tell me he grins quite a lot, just as he’s doing now at Varrik.
Then his deep blue eyes move to me, and his constellation bursts to life over his eyelids.
Jovial. Adventurous spirit. Attracted to excitement.
Beside me, Varrik looks over with a cocked brow. He definitely felt that.
“Varrik, you fucking twit. There you are!” the man booms as he comes up and claps him on the shoulder. “You made us wait ages.”
“Not nearly as long as you made me wait,” Varrik counters. “I’ve been sending messengers, Conrad.”
He shrugs. “I was traveling. You know how I get an itch if I stay in one place too long.”
“Claim any more territories while you were satisfying that itch?”
The man grins. “You know me so well.” Then his eyes shift to me. “And yet I don’t know this one at all. Or did you bring her for me? I must say, she’s quite stunning. I accept.”
My gaze flies up to Varrik, mortification slamming into me. “No, she’s not for you,” Varrik growls. “Don’t be an ass.” He turns to me. “Estinya, this is— was—my good friend and ally, Conrad.”
Conrad places a hand on his heart. “So quick to denounce me,” he gibes with a click of his tongue. Then he turns to me. “Apologies, Estinya, I meant no offense. But if you get tired of him, do let me know.”
“I’d get tired of you too, I’m sure,” I counter wryly.
He practically beams at my response. “Ah, and with some fire too. I like her.”
Varrik makes an unimpressed sound. “Well, don’t. She’s mine. My magic latched to her.”
This wipes the amusement off Conrad’s face. His blue eyes flick between the two of us. To my horns. “You latched to a fiend?”
“Yes.”
He whistles beneath his breath. “Well, fuck the Fates. Didn’t think that was possible.”
“Neither did we.”
“Wait,” he says, pausing as he looks at me more intently. “Is this who you were talking about in your messages?”
I glance at Varrik curiously.
“Yes,” he answers. “Can you come to the next room over? I’d like some privacy for her.”
Conrad nods. “Of course.”
Varrik takes my arm and leads the both of us out of the parlor and into an adjoining room. It’s smaller, with just a desk and a couple of chairs and a cushioned stool opposite a bookshelf. There’s no fire, but Varrik lights the sconces so we have plenty of light.
“What’s going on?” I ask after Varrik closes the door behind us.
“Estinya, Conrad’s Core magic gives him the ability to heal. Would you let him take a look at your back?”
I blink in surprise.
“Your messages grew nastier by the day,” Conrad notes, before looking over at me. “Varrik was being quite impatient. Such colorful threats.”
My gaze snaps to Varrik. “You threatened him?”
He shrugs. “I wanted you healed. He was taking too long.”
His words sink in slowly. He was sending messages every day . . . so that I could be healed? Even before we latched?
My stomach flutters.
“See? Impatient,” Conrad repeats before clapping his hands together. “Now, shall we get to it before the piping lordship over here becomes even more peevish?”
Varrik glowers. “I’m not peevish.”
Conrad rolls his eyes. “You’re a terror is what you are.”
“I’ve been called worse,” he says with a shrug, before our eyes meet and he smirks. “Rat man, most recently.”
Conrad bleats out a laugh, his eyes locking on me and dancing with mirth. “I do like you.”
“How does it work?” I ask, feeling nervous. “You don’t need to stab me, do you?”
He grins. “Had the misery of dealing with Lace, I take it? Her magic has all the finesse of a jagged nail. Mine is much less violent, I assure you.”
That’s a relief.
“Unlike stabbing you with a needle, my magic works with something far more civilized.” Conrad pulls out a roll of bandage. “Anything I can wrap, I can heal.”
My brows lift in surprise. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. I don’t always have to make contact with the wound itself, like a broken bone, but I do need to wrap directly over the skin.”
I stiffen, realizing I’m going to have to remove my fitted bodice and tug down my dress. “O-okay.”
“Where is this injury?”
I turn around so my back is facing him. “On my back.”
“Alright, I’ll need it bared.”
Varrik’s voice clips out, “Turn away, Conrad.”
“I’m a healer, you know,” he grumbles, but I can tell from the shuffling of his feet that he turns.
Varrik looks down at me. “It’s alright,” he says quietly.
There are no windows in this room, and for that I’m grateful. I’m also grateful when Varrik turns around too without me having to ask. Even though he’s tended me before, he still gives me privacy so my hands can shakily loosen the ties at the front of my bodice without him watching.
When I have it loose enough, I pull the bodice down and then peel my arms out of the sleeves of the dress and let it hang down at my waist. Then I quickly unbind myself from my bandages, dropping the cloth to the floor.
My cheeks flame with vulnerable embarrassment that I’m now bare with two men in the room. I pull my veiled hair over one shoulder so it’s off my back, and then I clutch my loose bodice against my chest to help cover my breasts.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
Varrik turns, his eyes staying right on my face. Behind me, I hear Conrad turn too, and then—
“What the fuck?”
I flinch.
“Don’t swear at her, you fucking dolt,” Varrik growls, and it makes me snort, lightening some of the tension.
“I wasn’t swearing at her. Just . . . on her behalf. This is . . .” He lets out a low whistle. “What happened to you?”
“So much,” I say dryly.
“She has a running list,” Varrik adds, making me smile.
“Alright. Well. I can see now why you messaged me every day like a lovesick soldier. I take back my taunting.”
“That’s a first.”
“Probably the last too. But her back does look atrocious.”
“Thanks,” I drawl.
“I mean, really. Have you seen it today?”
“No. Actually, I haven’t looked at it at all.”
Both men fall silent.
Conrad shoulders past the pause. “You’ve never looked at it?”
I shake my head, and I can feel Varrik’s eyes on me, though I keep my head tilted down. “If I looked, it would’ve become more real. I didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want the image of that in my head.”
They’re quiet again for a few seconds. Varrik is probably doing that thing where he wordlessly talks with a single look.
“Anyway, it’s better now than it was.”
“Well, it still looks like shit.”
I choke on a laugh at Conrad’s blunt declaration.
Varrik sighs. “Sorry about him.”
“Just telling the truth,” Conrad replies. “Let’s get it healed, shall we?”
“Yes, please.”
Turning my head, I see him take his rolled bandage, and he comes right up behind me.
“I’ll need to wrap your entire torso,” he warns. “I’ll start at your lower back and work my way up, if that’s alright?”
I swallow and then nod, my nerves jumping.