Chapter 9
This was not my cot.
The surface I was lying on was way too soft to be my cot. And even though I kept my eyes closed, I could distinguish that the light surrounding me was much too bright.
Also, warmth enveloped me like a tender cloud, and my muscles had stopped fighting against themselves. On top of all the evidence telling me I was still alive, something cool brushed over my forehead, and a slight sound of pure desperation escaped my lips as the gentle cold suddenly disappeared.
Forcing myself further into consciousness, I stirred as my eyelids fluttered. I was trying to take in my environment, but all I could do was blink against the blinding luminosity. “Too bright.”
Oh. The croaking noise permeating the air had been my voice, rasping from disuse and maltreatment.
“Wait a moment, you should get used to the light soon.” My thoughts were murky, but—
I knew that soft and caring tone.
“Ireas?”
“Cautious, Nayana. Don’t move too much. You need to stay put for a while longer.”
“Are you real? Or am I dead?” And if I were, why did I hear Ireas in my afterlife?
“If you were dead, I’d be a terrible medic who should give up on his profession. Do you have such a low opinion of me?”
Even in my state, I could perceive the humor lacing his words.
“No, but—I didn’t dream that Dion was in my cell?” Finally, I managed to open my eyes without risking the light to torch my pupils. Although now that I thought about this, I realized the room was only immersed in a dim twilight.
Steadying my gaze, my eyes flickered to Ireas, and I couldn’t suppress a crooked smile as I spotted his disheveled hair and the gentle brown of his irises, which reminded me of molten chocolate, a treat I’d only tasted once in my life.
Why I remembered the occasion—Rewani’s father had gotten remarried and had celebrated with his staff and their families—I couldn’t tell.
Anyway, this solved the mystery of why Ireas’ eyes never failed to rouse my hunger.
“That was real. He found you, carried you out, and honestly, if he’d arrived only a second later—” Ireas’ face contorted into a glower directed at me, and the expression was so alien on him, I did a double take.
“They didn’t give you enough water. You nearly died of dehydration, Nayana. You were—we were almost too late.”
“Yes, I wasn’t supposed to get any food or fluids from day eight on, if I recall correctly. My memory is still a bit foggy.”
“No wonder. But to my relief, I have reason to believe you avoided suffering permanent damage. At least your mind seems to be recovering, judging by how lucid you sound. How your body fared through the ordeal—well, I’ll monitor your health very closely in the near future.
Meanwhile, I hope you forgive me for force-feeding you liquids during the past few days. ”
“What—days?”
“You were unconscious for almost four nights. But that’s not as awful as it sounds. On the contrary, your prone state ensured that the balms had enough time to work without you shifting too much.”
I nodded and realized with quite a lot of astonishment that the pain, indeed, wasn’t as bad as I recalled during my last conscious hours.
Cautiously, I started an inventory of problematic areas, as I’d done so often while I’d fought for my life during captivity.
My skin felt tender in a lot of places—most likely still heavily bruised—my head throbbed, and each breath reminded me of how at least one of my ribs had been recently injured.
But still, after all I’d endured, I was in a much better condition than I would have supposed to be in.
Did Ireas have any special fae ointments at hand to speed up healing?
Oh. I was basically bandaged all over. “Did you undress—”
Ireas’ blood rushed into his cheeks, and an expression of pure horror dominated his face. “Gods above, no. Believe me, I value my life.”
Although I did my best not to follow the intrusive train of thoughts entering my mind, I understood exactly what he’d hinted at. Not that the riddle was challenging to solve, since there was precisely one specimen who’d escalate about a medic simply doing his job. “Who then?”
“A female.”
Narrowing my eyes at the vague answer, I winced as the motion caused pain to bloom behind my right brow, but I ignored the discomfort as best as I could. Instead, I kept my gaze glued to Ireas, but the male just shrugged.
“I had to swear I wouldn’t disclose too much. Dion wants to inform you of everything himself.”
“What a crazy world I’ve woken up in. Dion wants to tell me something of his own volition?
Maybe I did die, after all.” Thinking of the fae prince drew a small sigh from me.
Conflicted feelings battled in my chest—I was still upset with him, but he’d saved my life.
Again. Also, I couldn’t deny I’d broken my promise to him, and this shook me more than it should have.
At least my voice didn’t waver or betray any of my inner turmoil—maybe because I sounded extremely hoarse. “Where’s the princeling then?”
Instead of answering, Ireas’ lips twitched up as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or not. After a moment of fighting against the mirth that had crept into his eyes, he chuckled. “New nickname for him, hm?”
“It’s only fair, considering the one he picked for me.”
“Ah, you found out what Jama means?” The medic huffed, displeased. Obviously, he disagreed that I deserved such an unkind pet name. As fast as the humor had vanished, though, amusement returned to his expression. “Please let me be present when you call him that for the first time.”
“I’ve already done so once. Back in Amalach in anger, but maybe he doesn’t remember.” Sighing, I dared to repeat the question that had churned in my mind from the moment I’d turned lucid enough to take in my environment. “Speaking of Dion—Ireas, where’s he? And more so, where are we?”
“I had to throw him out. He was disrupting my work by growling, breathing down my neck, or, when he refrained from acting like a primal beast, his constant pacing distracted me. It’s a miracle he didn’t leave a permanent trail imprinted in the carpet.”
“And he allowed you to evict him?”
“Oh well. Yes, for a while, when I reminded him of how much you’d need my treatment. Still, he always returns much quicker than I like. Can’t take him much longer.”
The sigh stuck in my throat freed itself.
Now that I’d been saved and was recovering, the betrayal, lies, and secrecy speared into my chest and had me reeling with another kind of pain.
Even Ireas had been dishonest about his true nature.
Some of the bitterness bubbling under my skin crept into my tone. “So, you’re fae.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“Since I followed orders, I wasn’t allowed to. But for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.”
“Somehow, I do understand why you kept your identity to yourself. Doesn’t mean I’m ecstatic, but I tolerate that your duty comes first, so it makes sense you don’t tattle to a stranger you picked up somewhere at random.
” The attempt to insert humor into my words was valid, and for once, the roughness of my voice helped my cause—I sounded alien enough for my declaration to be funny all on its own.
Ugh, I hoped my throat would recover and my tone would return to normal.
“Thanks for understanding.”
“Ireas?”
“Yes, Nayana?”
“You’re not younger than me, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“How old are you, then?”
“I recently celebrated my ninety-sixth birth anniversary.”
“Oh my, that’s four times my age.” Wrapping my head around the fact that Ireas was the youngest of the group, and still he’d been alive for almost a century, was harder than I’d expected.
Suddenly, a thought struck me like a lightning bolt. If Dion had indeed been a vital part of the massacre of Amalach—and I had to face the fact that his involvement was reality—he must be well over two centuries old, if not more. “At what age do fae reach adulthood?”
“We obtain maturity at the age of seventy-five winters. So, if you applied our scale, you’d be a toddler.”
“Damn. That’s—”
Before I could finish my sentence, the door flung open and revealed a very pissed fae prince in human disguise towering in the frame. Even in the dim light, I was able to perceive that the male was seething.
“Ireas, godsdammit. I explicitly ordered you to call me the very instant she wakes up. So, why the fuck did you settle for insubordination?”
Of course, Dion was growling. I narrowed my eyes and considered going to sleep again so I wouldn’t have to grapple with this overbearing male.
But in reality, doing so wasn’t an option.
First, I couldn’t leave Ireas to deal with the annoyed royal on his own; second, Dion had saved my life; and third, I couldn’t always pretend to be asleep when he was near.
So, I’d rather allow the confrontation to happen as soon as possible instead of delaying the inevitable to an unknown time in the future.
Warmth spread from my belly to my limbs as Dion’s magic reached out to me unseen, and I had to admit, his power mingling with whatever I carried within me was like a balm, not only for my injured body but also for my aching soul.
My chest burned hot for a moment, but the effect disappeared so fast, I didn’t bother to observe which of my many wounds had reacted to the magical sensation. “Don’t snap at my medic, princeling.”
An amused sparkle bloomed in Ireas’ pupils as he worked hard to suppress a chuckle, while Dion scowled and then stalked through the room. He prowled to the bed with feline grace, placing himself on the mattress as if he belonged there.
With a warning glare to the younger male, he grabbed the piece of cloth Ireas had used earlier, then dipped his bounty into a bowl of water standing on the bedside table before wiping my forehead. I didn’t want to enjoy his care, but the coolness felt divine, and a satisfied hum escaped my lips.
“I can read a room,” Ireas said and staggered backward to the door. His pace was slow, as if he were afraid to spook his prince and trigger his temper once more. “I’ll soon return to check on you. Good to have you back, Naya.”
“See you soon, Ireas.” I smiled at him, then weakly swatted Dion’s arm, who, instead of politely saying goodbye, sent Ireas off with a growl. How predictable.
“Manners, princeling,” I commented on his actions, but even in my own ears, my protest sounded tired.
A muscle twitched in his left brow. “Stop calling me that.”
“No.” An answer taken right out of Dion’s book on how to end arguments.
He glowered at me, but his expression was more soft than angry, and—surely, I was mistaken—his eyes were puffy, red, and glossy.
Had he cried? My throat constricted at the mere notion.
“You have to rest.”
As if they reacted to his command, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier, but I battled the fatigue. There were some answers I needed to get first. “Where are we?”
“Later, Nayana. You’re barely able to keep your eyes open.”
Gods, save me from this overbearing male who knew everything better. “But I have—”
“Next time you wake up, I’ll tell you everything,” Dion said and wiped my forehead once more. “Sleep, tiny woman. Relax and recover. I’ll stay with you, right here. I won’t leave your side. Just heal.”
Unable to withstand the call of a nap anymore, my last thoughts dwelled on the sentiment of whether his words had been more a promise or a threat.