Page 112
Story: A House of Cloaks & Daggers
And as every other thought, feeling, and drop of knowledge abandoned me, I considered refusing.
I considered refusing to save the life of the man who had haunted my dreams through the winter, and who had lied to me for weeks and tormented me with his touches, smiles, and double-edged words, and who was ultimately a stranger.
I didn’t even know his name.
“She hasn’t accepted the bond yet.” Morgoya’s voice came from behind me.
I stiffened but didn’t turn towards her. If we were to continue our friendship at some point in the future, the High Lady could not see the hateful emotions crippling my features as I stared down at the man on my bed.
“No matter,” the healer declared with a shrug. “It will work either way, though His Majesty’s recovery may take a few extra days.”
His Majesty.
His Majesty.
Morgoya’s voice softened. “Aura—”
“You shut the fuck up.”
There was a stifled gasp from Batre, but I shut the rest of the room out as I extended my hand towards the girl who had healedHis Majesty.
“He has to drink it?” I asked, my voice suddenly unfamiliar to my own ears.
“Yes,” she answered carefully. She placed a small blade in my open palm. “Make sure he takes an entire mouthful.”
Oh, he’ll get a full fucking mouthful.
Taking the blade from the healer, I passed it into my other hand and then sliced it across my right palm.
Cupping my hand to let the blood pool there, I dropped the blade to the ground and lowered myself to sit on the edge of my bed. Then I propped his head up and brought my bleeding hand to his mouth.
His lips parted, though his eyes remained closed.
His breathing pattern became uneven as he drank from me.
I pressed my lips against his forehead, aware of the healer quietly retreating. To her and Batre—to anyone outside of the High King’s corrupted, traitorous inner circle—I was no more than his mate, murmuring loving reassurances as I healed him with my blood.
But only he could hear me.
“Take as much as you need,” I whispered, brushing my lips across his skin as I moved my mouth to his ear. “Because when you wake up, I am going to fucking kill you.”
Chapter forty-six
His Mate
Before she left, thehealer offered to fix the cut on my hand so that it wouldn’t scar. I let her seal it to prevent infection but requested that she let the scar form naturally.
I wanted to keep it as proof.
She gave me a list of instructions while the man in my bed healed, and I gave her a list of my own.
Nobody was to be allowed into my bedroom except for her when she returned for twice daily checks on her patient.
With a puzzled look, she agreed to my conditions and left the room to attend to the commotion downstairs as everyone returned from the conflict with the caenim to the sanctuary within the wards.
Nobody had mentioned what had actually happened yet, and I didn’t care to ask while I had so many other pressing issues on my mind.
I assumed there was no longer any immediate danger, so I sat on the window seat while the man in my bed dozed, his even breathing indicating a deep and restful sleep.
I considered refusing to save the life of the man who had haunted my dreams through the winter, and who had lied to me for weeks and tormented me with his touches, smiles, and double-edged words, and who was ultimately a stranger.
I didn’t even know his name.
“She hasn’t accepted the bond yet.” Morgoya’s voice came from behind me.
I stiffened but didn’t turn towards her. If we were to continue our friendship at some point in the future, the High Lady could not see the hateful emotions crippling my features as I stared down at the man on my bed.
“No matter,” the healer declared with a shrug. “It will work either way, though His Majesty’s recovery may take a few extra days.”
His Majesty.
His Majesty.
Morgoya’s voice softened. “Aura—”
“You shut the fuck up.”
There was a stifled gasp from Batre, but I shut the rest of the room out as I extended my hand towards the girl who had healedHis Majesty.
“He has to drink it?” I asked, my voice suddenly unfamiliar to my own ears.
“Yes,” she answered carefully. She placed a small blade in my open palm. “Make sure he takes an entire mouthful.”
Oh, he’ll get a full fucking mouthful.
Taking the blade from the healer, I passed it into my other hand and then sliced it across my right palm.
Cupping my hand to let the blood pool there, I dropped the blade to the ground and lowered myself to sit on the edge of my bed. Then I propped his head up and brought my bleeding hand to his mouth.
His lips parted, though his eyes remained closed.
His breathing pattern became uneven as he drank from me.
I pressed my lips against his forehead, aware of the healer quietly retreating. To her and Batre—to anyone outside of the High King’s corrupted, traitorous inner circle—I was no more than his mate, murmuring loving reassurances as I healed him with my blood.
But only he could hear me.
“Take as much as you need,” I whispered, brushing my lips across his skin as I moved my mouth to his ear. “Because when you wake up, I am going to fucking kill you.”
Chapter forty-six
His Mate
Before she left, thehealer offered to fix the cut on my hand so that it wouldn’t scar. I let her seal it to prevent infection but requested that she let the scar form naturally.
I wanted to keep it as proof.
She gave me a list of instructions while the man in my bed healed, and I gave her a list of my own.
Nobody was to be allowed into my bedroom except for her when she returned for twice daily checks on her patient.
With a puzzled look, she agreed to my conditions and left the room to attend to the commotion downstairs as everyone returned from the conflict with the caenim to the sanctuary within the wards.
Nobody had mentioned what had actually happened yet, and I didn’t care to ask while I had so many other pressing issues on my mind.
I assumed there was no longer any immediate danger, so I sat on the window seat while the man in my bed dozed, his even breathing indicating a deep and restful sleep.
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