17. Winter #3
When Winter had come in search of Valen, he had wanted to talk to the royal healer about Raven.
Raven’s treatment by the guards. Raven’s supposed exposure to a mysterious monster.
But now, so many curiosities reared their heads.
He wanted to collect more mysteries before bringing his exploration time to an end with a confrontation.
At the back of the room, a splinter of flickering light shone along the edge of the storage closet door. Clearly the effect of firelight, but in a small closet? Another nonsensical observance.
Winter crossed the room and quietly slid open the door. Within the small closet, a collection of boxes filled with colorful and strange oddities. And between the shelves of boxes, another door, left open to a descending staircase.
Winter bit the edge of his lip to hold his all-too-wide grin from stretching the width of his face. Gods, excitement bloomed in his soul. The situation kept getting better and better.
He stepped toward the second door, when something caught his attention. Nothing more than an unassuming mesh glove, but something about the piece seemed oddly familiar. Sparked a hint of a memory he couldn’t fully grasp and stirred thoughts of Raven.
Why would a glove make him think about Raven?
More delightful mysteries. The thrill in his chest was practically effervescent.
Shoving the glove into his cloak pocket to contemplate later, he slipped through the second doorway and slowly, silently, descended a tunnel of steps.
The passage provided no places to hide should Valen decide to come his way, but the ever-flowing tenor of the healer’s speech pegged his location at the base of the stairway.
Winter moved only far enough to bring the male’s lower body into view. He was shifting restlessly, practically pacing. And from the sounds of things, talking to someone. Although any responses were too soft for Winter to comprehend.
“You must know if it is possible. How can you not know?” Valen nearly shouted the question.
He rattled something. Something that sounded like…bars?
A soft response from another, words indecipherable.
“I realize procreation isn’t possible. We’ve pretty much proven that now, haven’t we?” A moment of silence. “In this form, anyway. But what about after a transition?”
Winter slid with his back tight against the wall. Procreation? Transition? What in unholy gods was Valen going on about?
The royal healer expelled a growl of discontent. “Maybe I’ll transition you and run further experiments.”
He spun on his heels and stalked toward the stairwell.
With a minute gasp and no time to waste, Winter called upon his magic and allowed it to whisk him from the space at the speed of a hurricane blast. In a flash, he was out of the stairwell, out of the workshop, and quickly stalking down the corridor in the opposite direction as Valen.
He would be back to investigate the room at the bottom of the stairs. Just not now. Such explorations would have to wait until Valen was otherwise engaged.
The prince returned to his apartment, cognizant of the hour. Not enough time had yet passed for him to strum up worry over Raven…on the surface. But the newly discovered mysteries regarding Valen left an uneasy tremor in his gut with regard to his dark beauty of a guest.
Tossing the glove and Myla’s drawings on the table, he promptly poured himself a stiff drink. Downed the liquid in one long swallow.
The door to his suite swung open and then closed swiftly. Lucas leaned against the wooden surface as if catching his breath.
He pushed away from the door and bowed. “Sire.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lucas.” Winter tossed him a dismissive wave. “We’re the only two in the room. No need for formalities.”
“Yes, of course. My apologies.” Lucas meandered in Winter’s direction. “Your guest is still in the infirmary, but Neive is ready and waiting for her return. I can’t imagine the staff will keep her much longer. They’ve already taken every possible fluid sample from her.”
“Why would they—” Winter cut off his own question.
Fluids were used to check for the infection…if that was really what they were looking for. Winter wasn’t so sure. He was, in fact, no longer sure about a lot of things, a growing number of things.
“Never mind.” He shook his head and refilled his glass with liquor. Raised the glass in Lucas’s direction. “Want one?”
“Actually…” Lucas placed two fingers to his lips and glanced over his shoulder as if he expected to find someone spying on them. The room was clear, and he returned his attention to the prince. “I don’t mind if I do.”
“Good choice.” Winter poured another drink and handed Lucas the glass. Then he stalked to the table, took a seat, rearranged Myla’s pictures, and studied them. “I think we may need to keep a closer watch on Valen, especially when it comes to Raven.”
“Consider it done.” Lucas downed his drink and joined Winter at the table, but before taking a seat, he glanced over the items cluttering the wide surface.
He collected the glove, flipped it over in his hand, then dropped it. Pressed a finger to the edge of one of the pictures, spun it to better scrutinize. He stared at the drawing of a wooden chair encircled with chains.
He raised an eyebrow. “Kinky.”
Or horrifying. Winter was leaning more toward the horror than the kink in that particular situation. What wicked things had Kira gotten involved in?
“Oh!” Lucas jumped, then he extracted a small box from his pocket and glanced at the shiny screen. “Ms. Gunn has returned to her rooms. I’m going to check in on her and make sure she has everything she needs before turning in for the night.”
Winter rose and crossed the room in quick strides. “I’ll join you.”
Because I am now rather leery of leaving Raven unattended in the same building which Valen dwells.
The memory of Valen talking to the unseen individual crept up his spine and settled uncomfortably behind his eyes. He shuddered.
Although Winter had a true fondness for puzzles and mysteries, he was far from a fan of peril—the serious, life-endangerment stuff. And his high-warning radar was nagging him that that kind of threat might be at his door…or already under his roof.
Was he ready to face such a thing?
He had to be.
“But first.” Winter dropped a heavy hand on Lucas’s shoulder, drawing the man’s questioning gaze. “Another quick glass of liquid calm and courage?”
Lucas’s nose wrinkled and his brow tightened as he appeared to weigh the suggestion, and his gaze swung back and forth between the door and Winter, where he finally settled with a rather reluctant nod.
They partook. Then, fortified with the growing liquid warmth in his belly, Winter grabbed an untapped decanter from the bar and gave Lucas a nod.
The nod was the starting gun. He was diving recklessly into the hazardous, messy mystery because, holy gods above, the damn puzzle sparked more life in him than he’d felt in years. A hundred and six years, actually.
It was amazing what the threat of danger to limb, life, and soul stirred in the body.
Together, the two males exited the prince’s apartment and made their way to Raven’s rooms by way of conventional hallways.
“You know.” Lucas spoke softly. “The queen is not going to be pleased once she hears you’re visiting Ms. Gunn.”
A muscle in Winter’s jaw worked overtime. “I shall deal with my grandmother.”
Lucas tossed him a sideways glance that flirted with a laughing grin. “Might I suggest you save any chats with your grandmother for a time when your stomach is dry”―he tapped the prince’s belly, snagging Winter’s downward gaze―“of any liquid calm and courage?”
Lucas never shied away from breaking decorum and treating Winter like most any other human or fae. He appreciated that on so many levels.
“Right you are, my good fellow.” He slapped his arm across Lucas’s shoulder and steered them straight toward the guards posted at Raven’s door. “But our moment shall come soon. Very soon. For it is far past time she and I had a chat.”
About so many things, starting with Raven and Valen, and whatever deal they have between them.