Chapter Thirteen Riela
Chapter Thirteen
Riela
I jolted awake, chased from my dreams by some half-remembered terror. Something shifted next to me, and a scream lodged in
my throat. Then Grim’s low, chuckling growl vibrated against my side, and relief nearly brought tears to my eyes.
If my laugh was a little too high and panicked, I didn’t think the wolf would tell anyone.
I was in bed and still fully dressed. The room was dark, with just a hint of moonlight from the window. I stretched my arms
overhead. Considering that I’d passed out from the pain of letting Garrick use my magic, I felt surprisingly good. I must’ve
slept for hours.
I sat up and the lights in the room brightened enough for me to see without being so bright that they blinded me. I swung
my legs over the side of the bed and froze at the sight of the body just beyond my toes.
Why was Garrick sleeping on my floor?
I eased myself from the bed and knelt on the cold stones. The mage was still wearing the same torn and bloody tunic from earlier,
but a quick peek revealed that his side was completely healed.
When I shook his shoulder and called his name, he didn’t stir. I couldn’t find his pulse, but a finger beneath his nose proved
that he was breathing, just far too slowly. His skin was wan and icy—and colder still where it touched the floor.
He needed blankets and a bed, but there was no way I could carry him to his, so mine it was. Lifting him high enough to get
him onto the mattress was going to be tricky. I looked at Grim. “I don’t suppose you could grow arms and heave him onto the
bed for me?”
The wolf did not magically transform into a person, sadly.
Okay, so if I couldn’t move Garrick to the bed, then I was going to have to move the bed to Garrick. I shooed Grim away, then dragged the heavy mattress onto the floor. If I ended up dragging it straight over Garrick’s prone
form, no one would ever know.
The shortcut meant it ended up right next to the mage, so I wouldn’t have to drag his limp body halfway across the room.
Getting Garrick onto the mattress still wasn’t easy, but at least it was doable. Once Grim figured out what I was attempting,
he helped by tugging on Garrick’s clothes. Hopefully this wasn’t the mage’s favorite outfit, because by the time we were done,
his ripped tunic was little more than shreds, and even his trousers were sporting more tooth-shaped holes than they had been
before.
But he was no longer on the freezing floor, so I was going to count it as a victory. He hadn’t awoken despite our sometimes
rough handling, and I was worried that something had gone wrong with the healing. Had my magic somehow hurt him?
I removed Garrick’s boots and tucked him under the sheets and blankets. Another few layers would be useful, so I headed for
the door to strip some blankets from the nearby rooms.
Except the door wouldn’t open.
The latch turned, but no matter how hard I pulled, the door remained stuck fast. “Could you let me out, please?” I asked the
castle.
The door didn’t budge.
I crossed the room to the bathroom. That door opened normally, so it was only the outer door that was stuck. I frowned at
it. The door was solid, thick wood. Breaking it down wasn’t an option. Maybe Garrick could convince it to open once he woke.
But until then, he needed heat.
I pushed him to the center of the mattress, then pointed at the side farthest from the door. “That’s your new bed,” I told
Grim. “Garrick needs to warm up.”
The wolf flopped down next to the mage with uncanny understanding. I shook my head in wonder, then opened the wardrobe and pulled out a pile of clothes. I draped them over both Garrick and Grim, saving a long, heavy dress as a blanket for myself.
I grabbed the dagger and my mom’s book of poetry, then I climbed into bed with a magical wolf and an Etheri king.
When the lights in the room darkened, I summoned my magical light and opened the book of poems. Nervous anxiety churned in
my stomach, and since I couldn’t ask Garrick what had happened, I wasn’t sure if the threat still existed. I touched the dagger
I’d laid beside me. I still didn’t know how to use it, but I felt better with the cool metal under my fingers.
The first poem in the book was the rhyme about Etheri sovereigns that everyone in Yishwar learned as a child. I’d always thought
it was as made-up as my father’s book of fairy tales, a way to get rambunctious children to come home before their parents
worried about them, but now I wasn’t so sure.
What if there was truth to the verses?
If so, then I should be dead. Both the King of Roses and the King of Stone were called out as especially dangerous, but Garrick
had been kind to me. Would King Roseguard be the same?
I shivered as I remembered the scarlet magic that had been hunting me. It hadn’t felt kind. I flipped through the pages, searching for a specific poem. I’d long since memorized the book, but I wanted
to see if memory matched reality. And there, at the bottom of the page, was a single verse written in a looping script:
A rose’s beauty
Is surface deep
And hides the prick beneath
I’d always thought the poet was not so subtly skewering an acquaintance, but it could also be read as a warning about the
Blood King. Had the poet actually known King Roseguard?
If so, the poems took on a whole different tone.
But it was equally likely that I was inventing meaning where none existed.
I skimmed through the rest of the pages, finding comfort in the familiar verses until my anxiety lifted and my eyes drooped. I covered a yawn, then another, then finally set the book aside.
Garrick hadn’t moved, and he was still and cool next to me. His faint breath puffed against my fingers when I checked his
breathing, but even with the extra clothes as blankets, he didn’t seem warm enough. I edged closer to share some of my heat,
and Grim blinked at me. His silver eyes glinted in the light.
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked softly.
Grim chuffed and returned his head to his paws. I hoped that meant yes.
I dismissed my magical light and covered myself with the dress I was using for a blanket, but I wasn’t used to sharing my
bed with anyone—at least, not for sleeping. Every faint sound or hitch in Garrick’s too-slow breathing jerked me back to wakefulness.
Dawn was painting the sky outside the window a faint, silvery purple when exhaustion finally dragged me into dreams.
And straight back into the lurking nightmares.
A lua chased a younger version of my father through a murky forest, and no matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t catch them, couldn’t
help. “Give me life,” the lua crooned as she stalked my father.
He kept running without comment, but the lua paused, turned, and met my gaze with a cruel smile. “Found you,” she whispered.
Terror catapulted me awake, and I thrashed, trapped by invisible bonds.
“Stop flailing. You’re safe,” a deep, grouchy voice demanded.
The bonds resolved themselves into arms as soon as I opened my eyes. Sunlight burned brightly outside, but this side of the
room remained shrouded in shadows. I shuddered as I remembered the forest from my nightmare.
“If I let go, are you going to hit me again?” Garrick asked, his voice rough with sleep and temper.
I silently shook my head, then darted a glance at him.
He was on his side next to me, a solid line of warmth down the left half of my body.
His arm was wrapped over my chest, trapping my own arms against my body.
The dress I’d been using for a blanket was on the floor, and I’d wiggled under the covers at some point during the night, so it looked like I’d invaded his personal space while he was passed out.
Embarrassment heated my cheeks, and as soon as the arm over my chest loosened, I tried to ease away. He hauled me back against
the warmth of his body. “Stop moving,” he grumbled, half-asleep. “You’re safe. Sleep.”
There was no magic behind the command, but I froze anyway. Between the nightmare and waking to find myself pressed up against
Garrick, I would be surprised if I ever slept again.
But as the memory of the nightmare faded, all I had left to focus on was the feel of Garrick’s body next to mine. He was surprisingly
muscled for someone who hid in his room all day, and while I didn’t dare turn my head to look at him again, his face was already
burned into my memory: a strong nose, a sharp jaw covered in perpetual scruff, and those arresting silver eyes.
He was handsome, no question—once you got past the scowl.
I’d had my fair share of relationships, both romantic and the friendly stress-release variety, but it had been a while since
I’d had someone in my bed. My body didn’t care that he was an Etheri king. He was here, and he was practically wrapped around
me.
Heat began pooling in places it had no business pooling, not for an Etheri sovereign.
I tried shifting a tiny bit to my right, but Garrick grunted in his sleep, and his arm tightened, pulling me even more firmly
against him.
Then he slid his leg over mine, and I was well and truly trapped. It did nothing to extinguish my growing desire. What would
he do if I turned and pressed my lips to his? Had anyone ever stolen a kiss from the Silver King?
Unfortunately, I was pretty sure that whatever had caused him to pass out in my room was responsible for his current state, not me specifically. I was warm, and he’d latched onto me because of it. Once he was thinking clearly, he’d go back to keeping his distance and scowling at me.
The thought hurt just a little more than I’d expected.
I inhaled deeply and nuzzled farther into my warm sheets. They smelled faintly like mint and something else my sleepy brain
couldn’t quite name but liked nonetheless. Whatever I’d paid for this soap had been worth it.
“If you are quite finished,” a deep voice rumbled into my ear.
A deep, familiar voice.
My eyes popped open and my cocoon of languid peacefulness evaporated as reality came roaring back in. The last thing I remembered