Chapter 25
Casteel and I had spent the day before living, so we would spend today ensuring we had more days like yesterday.
We would meet with his parents.
But first, we needed to get out of bed, something neither of us seemed in a rush to do. While Casteel toyed with my hair, we chatted about what I had seen the day before, which included me waxing on rather poetically about the frozen treat I’d consumed.
In a lull of silence as I convinced myself it was far past time to get up, Casteel asked, “When you healed that girl yesterday, did you notice anything different about your abilities?”
“Not really,” I told him as I traced figure eights across his chest. “Well, I’m not sure if that’s true. When I healed Beckett’s injuries, I didn’t really need to think about it. It just happened. But this time, I had to do what I normally did before.”
“Think of happy memories?” He twisted a strand of hair around his finger.
“Yes. I thought of when we married.” I lifted my head, resting my chin on his chest. He smiled softly at me. “And I thought about how unfair the girl’s injuries were, and I…”
“What?”
I drew my lip between my teeth. “It seems silly to even consider this, but I did think to myself that it wasn’t too late—that she would live while my hands were on her.”
His gaze coasted over my features. “Did you know that she was already gone?”
“I…” I’d started to deny it, but I stopped myself as what Casteel had said the morning before resurfaced. Denial was no longer a luxury. He spoke of the Crown, but the same logic applied here. “I can’t say that she was gone for certain, but she was close.”
He slowly unwound my hair. “Then you either willed her soul to remain with her, or you brought her back to life, Poppy.”
My heart tripped over itself. “It’s hard for me to accept that, but I think I did.” Hair tumbled over my shoulders as I rose onto my knees. “It makes sense that I can do that because of who Nyktos is, but it’s kind of—”
“Amazing.” He carefully untangled his hand from my hair.
“I was going to go with unnerving,” I said.
His brow furrowed. “You gave that child a second chance at life. How can that be anything but marvelous?”
I glanced down at my hands, unsure of how to explain what I was thinking. “It’s just that kind of ability…is powerful in a frightening way.”
“Explain.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “I know the people who saw what happened yesterday think I am a deity—”
“I believe they think you’re a goddess,” he countered. “And there is a difference between the two.”
“Okay. They think I’m a goddess. But we both know that isn’t the case,” I pointed out, and he simply raised a brow. I rolled my eyes. “Either way, doing that felt like…playing god. It feels like an ability that could be misused without even realizing it—that is if I can even do it again.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Do you think it was her time, and you interfered?”
I stiffened. “I cannot believe that it was time for anyone that young to pass on to the Vale. I don’t think that at all.”
“Neither do I.” He tapped his fingers on my hand. “But you’re worried about interfering when it is someone’s time, aren’t you? Because if someone is hurt and dying, you won’t be able to stand by and allow that.”
He knew me all too well. “How do you know when it’s someone’s time?” I asked and then laughed at the absurdity of the question. “How would any of us know that?”
“We don’t.” His eyes met mine. “I think all we can do is what feels right. It felt right for you to save that girl. But maybe another time will come when it won’t feel right.”
I couldn’t imagine a time when helping someone wouldn’t feel right, but that kind of unanswerable question would have to wait. We needed to get ready for the day.
A nervous sort of energy buzzed through me that had nothing to do with our conversation as I changed into black leggings and a sleeveless wrap tunic dyed in a shade that reminded me of Jasper’s hair and fur.
I was surprised that the delicate silver chain held the tunic together, and I only hoped it remained that way throughout the day.
The last thing I needed was to expose the nearly transparent slip I wore underneath.
Then again, considering how Casteel’s father had last seen me, it probably wouldn’t come as much of a shock.
But I just wanted things to go smoothly between his parents and me because I knew if they didn’t, the path would be rocky between Casteel and his parents going forward.
The moment I joined him in the sitting room, his fingers found their way into the waves and curls of my hair. “I love your hair like this,” he murmured. “I’m beginning to think you do this because you know I become distracted by it.”
I grinned as we stepped outside the room, my nervousness easing a bit. “Maybe,” I said, even though I’d totally left it down because I knew he liked it like this.
And because I’d spent years with the heavy length pinned tightly back and up.
“Did you still want to see Kirha before we leave?” he asked.
I nodded. I’d mentioned this morning that I wanted to thank her for the clothing and her hospitality before we left to meet with the current Queen and King of Atlantia.
Casteel had already sent word ahead of our impending arrival.
With his hand folded around mine, he led me out into the breezeway, where ceiling fans churned overhead, stirring the scent of cinnamon and cloves that seeped out from the open windows of rooms facing the pathway.
If it weren’t for the faded, oily stains on the walkway and the darkening of the dirt every couple of yards, it would be hard to imagine that those faceless creatures had been here two nights before.
But they had, and Casteel and I were prepared in case the Gyrms appeared once more.
I carried the wolven dagger hidden beneath my tunic, and Casteel had two short swords strapped to his sides. We also weren’t alone.
A wolven with fur as dark as Stygian Bay prowled along the top of the courtyard wall, tracking our progress.
I had a feeling he or she wasn’t the only wolven nearby as we stepped out from the breezeway and onto an earthen path lined with tall palms. The fan-shaped leaves provided adequate shade from the late-morning sun as we followed the winding walkway.
Bursts of color from tiny wildflowers and vivid pink and purple blossoms peeked out from the tangled vines that swept over the walls in some sections and blanketed most of the garden floor.
The garden was nothing like the showy and wildly diverse ones in Masadonia, but I liked the earthy, natural feel of it.
And I had a feeling that no matter how many times one walked the pathways, they would find something new among the foliage.
We rounded a bend, and a patio became visible. Several stone benches and wooden stools that appeared to have been crafted from the trunks of trees encircled a large fire pit. The gray stone patio led straight to the open doors of an airy, sun-drenched room.
Among the plants placed on small tables and growing from large clay pots on the tile floor, oversized chairs with thick cushions and brightly colored ottomans were situated in clusters next to wide couches and settees.
Large floor pillows in every shade of blue imaginable were scattered across the floor, but Kirha Contou sat on a plush, teal rug in the center of the room, legs crossed, and her head bowed.
Narrow rows of small, tight braids were swept up and pinned back from her face as she rooted around in a basket of yarn. Her son was with her.
Wearing all black, Kieran stood out rather starkly in the colorful room.
He sat beside her, leaning against one of the chair backs, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
He held a ball of orange yarn in one hand and a white one in the other.
Several more lay in his lap, and the image of him sitting there, a faint smile softening the handsome lines of his face as he watched his mother, would be forever imprinted on my brain.
Both of them looked up as Casteel and I neared the doors.
My senses were open, and their emotions immediately stretched out, the cool splash of surprise I felt from Kieran as the orange ball of yarn fell from his hand and rolled across the rug caught me a little off guard.
If Kieran had been aware that Casteel and I had witnessed his…
activities in the shadows, he showed no sign of it as we’d ridden back to his family home under a sky blanketed by endless stars.
Even if he did, I didn’t think that was the source of the surprise. I had no idea what it was as I focused on the woman beside him.
His mother was utterly beautiful—the spitting image of Vonetta from her deep, rich brown skin and broad cheekbones to the full mouth that seemed to hint at a laugh.
What I felt from her also reminded me of her daughter.
The taste of smooth vanilla was as comforting as a warm blanket on a cold night.
I realized I had seen her before when I first arrived here. She’d been in the crowd of wolven and had smiled as Casteel and I bickered.
“Kieran,” Casteel drawled. He squeezed my hand as we stepped through the doors and then let go. “Are you knitting me a shirt?”
The wolven’s expression smoothed out. “That is exactly what I’m doing,” he replied, his tone flat.
“He’s actually very good with the needles,” Kirha said, placing the basket aside.
The syrupy-sweet taste of embarrassment radiated from Kieran as his cheeks deepened in color. His gaze narrowed on his mother. My brows lifted as the image that had been branded in my mind was now replaced by one that included Kieran knitting a shirt.
That was something that would never leave my mind.
Kirha started to rise as Casteel rushed to say,” You don’t need to get up.”