Chapter 22 #2
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time felt elastic when I worked magic this complex.
Finally, I slowed my pace. The exposed ice had released the majority of its surface particles. What remained would take weeks to fully dissipate.
When I opened my eyes, my vision swam.
“Easy,” Raoul said, his arms tightening around me. “I’ve got you.”
“It worked.” My voice came out hoarse.
“It did.”
I leaned back against him, exhausted but satisfied. “One down. How many more did we identify?”
“While you worked, we found five more exposed formations,” Warren said. “But none as large as this one.”
I could do five more.
I had to.
We worked for the rest of the day. Each formation required the same careful preparation and application of magic. Raoul stayed close for all of it, providing warmth and support and the occasional check when I pushed too hard.
“You need to eat,” he said after the third formation, pressing dried fruit into my hands.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re swaying.”
“That’s just the wind.”
“Adele.”
I ate the fruit because arguing took energy I needed for magic. And he was right. I felt better after eating.
By the fourth formation, my body was running on only stubborn determination. The sun was setting, painting the peaks in violent shades of orange and red. Beautiful and ominous.
“We should stop,” Raoul said. “Finish tomorrow.”
“We have to fly to Goldwing tomorrow or we won’t make it back in time for the Summit.”
“The Summit can wait.”
Not really. Goldwing and Silvervale weren’t the only clans coming for the ceremony. Demi would handle the preparation, but she wasn’t the king or queen. Our guests would expect us to host. “I can do two more.”
“Not if you collapse.”
My legs felt like water. My magic, usually so responsive, came sluggish.
But those babies needed this fixed.
“We finish,” I said. “Then I’ll rest.”
He studied me with amber eyes that saw too much. “If you push past your limits and hurt yourself, you won’t be able to help Goldwing.”
“Alright,” I said. “One more tonight. The last tomorrow.”
He nodded.
The fifth formation was smaller, thank the fates. I completed the working in half the time, though it still left me trembling with exhaustion.
“That’s it,” Raoul said. “We’re going back.”
I didn’t argue. Couldn’t, really. Speaking required too much effort.
The flight back to Silvervale was a blur. I remember Raoul’s warmth beneath me, the rhythmic beat of his wings, the way he kept checking on me through our bond.
We landed in the courtyard as full dark settled. I slid off his back and would’ve fallen if he hadn’t shifted fast and caught me.
“I can walk,” I said.
“Sure you can. You’re doing a great job of it right now.”
He was carrying me. When had that happened?
People gathered as we crossed the courtyard. Queen Mortiven, advisors, parents with babies who were breathing clearly. The rasping wheeze was gone. Their tiny faces looked relaxed, peaceful.
It had worked.
Relief made my eyes sting. Or maybe that was just exhaustion.
“The air quality has improved dramatically,” Mortiven said, following us inside. “The babies are already responding.”
“That’s…” I searched for words through the fog of fatigue. “That’s wonderful.”
“Thanks to you.” She touched my shoulder gently. “Rest. We can speak again tomorrow.”
Raoul carried me to our rooms, ignoring my half-hearted protests about dignity and propriety. He set me on the bed only long enough to strip off my outer layers, then scooped me up again.
“Where are we going now?” I whispered.
“Hot springs. It’ll relax you.”
“If I’m any more relaxed, I’ll be asleep.”
“Please.”
That was all it took. When he made demands, I balked. But asking with please?
I was a complete pushover for this man.
I nodded, and he strode into the bathing area adjacent to our rooms. Steam rose in lazy curls, and the mineral-rich water glowed in the low light.
Raoul set me on the stone edge, kneeling to remove my boots. His movements were gentle, careful, like I might shatter.
“I can undress myself,” I said.
“Can you?” He looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Prove it.”
I reached for my tunic laces and fumbled them. My fingers wouldn’t cooperate.
“That’s what I thought.” He lifted my hands and kissed them before unlacing the tunic, tugging it and the undergarment beneath up.
He made quick work of the rest until I sat naked on the warm stone.
After stripping himself, he lifted me and carried me into the water.
The heat shocked through me after the mountain cold. I gasped, and he pulled me against his chest, letting me adjust gradually.
“Better?” he asked.
“Getting there.”
We settled onto a submerged ledge, the water up to our shoulders. Raoul positioned me between his legs, my back to his chest, his arms loose around my waist.
“You were extraordinary today,” he said quietly.
“I was doing what I love most. I’ve always been good with weather.”
“You saved those babies. You prevented a war. That’s more than being good with weather.”
My throat tightened. “When you put it like that…”
“That’s exactly how it is.” His hands traced lazy patterns on my arms, warming skin that had gone numb hours ago. “You’re brave and completely terrifying when you’re focused.”
“Terrifying?”
“In the best possible way.” His lips brushed my temple. “I’ve never seen anything like what you did today. You bent the atmosphere to your will. It was like watching someone paint with elements most people can’t even perceive.”
Heat bloomed in my chest. He saw me. Not just a weather witch and problem solver, but me, in all my scattered, obsessive, magic-drunk glory.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I said. “You kept me fed. Warm. Alive.”
“That’s what partners do.”
I turned in his arms, needing to see his face, making water slosh around us. His amber eyes held mine, and whatever he saw there made his expression soften into something that stole my breath.
He kissed me, tasting like feelings I wasn’t ready to name. When he pulled back, I was trembling again, but not from exhaustion.
“Let’s get you out before your skin shrivels,” he said, his voice rough.
“Wouldn’t want that.”
He lifted me from the water, setting me on the warm stone. Water streamed down his body, catching the low light, and I admired the view because I was exhausted, not dead.
He wrapped me in the softest towel I’d ever felt, drying me with the same careful attention he’d given everything else today. My hair, my arms, down my legs, gentle and thorough.
“I like taking care of you,” he rasped.
When he finished, he grabbed one of his tunics from the pile of clothes we’d brought. The fabric was soft, well-worn, and smelled like him. He pulled it over my head, and it fell to mid-thigh, the sleeves dangling past my hands.
“I look ridiculous,” I said, holding up my arms to show the excess fabric.
His eyes heated. “You look perfect. You look like my wife, wearing my clothes, in our rooms.” He pulled me close, his hands spanning my waist through the oversized tunic. “And it’s doing things to me that we don’t have the energy to explore right now.”
My belly flipped. “Another time?”
“Definitely.”
He dried and tugged on his own clothes and scooped me up again, carrying me into the sitting area where someone had left a tray of food on the table. The smell alone made my belly growl.
Raoul settled onto the sofa, keeping me in his lap. “Eat.”
“Bossy dragon.”
“Stubborn witch.” But his tone was fond as he reached for the plate, selecting a piece of cheese. “Open.”
I did as he asked, too tired to argue, and he fed me and himself meat, cheese, bread, and various vegetables, each bite carefully chosen. It made me feel cherished.
“Better?” he asked after we’d eaten almost everything on the plate.
“Yes.” I curled into his chest, my head finding the perfect spot under his chin.
I wasn’t sure when I drifted off. Or when he carried me to bed.