Page 46

He nods. “It’s done. I’ve entered his dreams and carved out a clear path for myself. I can return whenever I want now.”

“Good.” As I start to walk closer to him, the room tilts. My vision spins, but before I hit the ground, Talan’s arms are around me, strong as oak boughs. “Guess I lost more blood than I thought,” I mumble.

He’s cradling me in his lap now, his muscular arm wrapped around my back. Dizzily, I watch him bring my arm to his mouth. Lifting the thin sleeve of my dress, he presses a lingering kiss to the cut on my skin, his healing tongue already at work.

Molten heat slides into my belly as his tongue skims across my injured arm. Slowly, his mouth moves over my skin, and the pain dissolves, replaced by a dangerous, sexual need. With each stroke, he teases at my restraint. A sensual desire tightens in my core.

As my focus narrows to the feel of his mouth on my skin, I start to forget what I’m doing here, and my head tilts back. My breath hitches, and heat curls low and deep between my thighs. My thoughts spiral with images of his mouth moving lower, of him kissing and licking me where I need him most, his fingersmoving in and out of me. My nipples go hard, grazing against the thin material of the gown.

I bite my lip, fighting the dark allure of him. Shoving my desire down, I yank my arm away. “I think it’s fine now.”

He lifts his dark eyelashes, gazing at me with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. Glowing copper blazes in the depths of his eyes, and his mouth lingers close to mine.

“Ah, there it is.” His deep voice strokes over my skin like a lover’s caress. “You always try so hard to pretend.”

I bring my lips closer to his, nearly touching. “It’s just not the country way. We loathe pleasure, like you said. Now take me home, will you?”

I stare out my window,eating a small pie made with wild carrots, nettles, garlic, and plenty of butter. Outside, winter has started to thaw a little, and water drips from melting icicles, the droplets ignited with rose by the setting sun.

It’s been a week now, and even with Talan’s healing magic and plenty of rest, I still feel strange twinges in my arm. Maertisa’s blade did some kind of deep muscle and nerve damage, and my arm still throbs with pain.

As I finish the pie, the library door opens, and I turn to see Aisling bustling into the room.

“What are you doing out of bed?” she asks, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.

“Aisling, I’m fine. It’s been nearly a week, and I wasn’t even injured very long. Talan healed it right away.”

Mind you, that isn’t actually true.

She cocks her head. “With his magic tongue, yes? If I got injured, I wonder if he’d…well, anyway. I think you need to rest a month to fully heal.”

“Look!” I swing my arm back and forth, then wrap it around the back of my neck. Pain shoots through my muscles, but I ignore it. “It doesn’t hurt, not even a bit.”

The truth is, I need to get out of here. Yesterday, Nivene slid an encrypted message under the door, and I’m supposed to meet her precisely at noon.

The message wasn’t very detailed, but apparently, the Fey have been fighting more intensely in Scotland. More dragon attacks forced the human army to retreat further into the north. But most concerningly, Talan has been tightening the noose on the resistance. He managed to find two more anti-monarchy agents in hiding, though they poisoned themselves before he could learn anything from them. Still, it’s only a matter of time before the entire network unravels—me included.

We’re running out of time. I spent last night in my little library alcove, twisting and turning, and hardly slept at all.

Aisling is rambling about damaged muscles, and I tear my gaze from the raindrops dripping down the diamond windowpanes. “Well, my uncle once hurt his leg while cutting wood,” she’s saying. “He was drunk at the time, which really pissed my aunt off. She always said the drink would be the end of him. He didn’t let it heal properly, and now his leg hurts every time it’s about to start raining. He proved her right, didn’t he? It actually turned out to be a blessing, though, because he could tell the farmers, and they could get the fields ready. But that’s not the point. The point is?—”

“—if I don’t keep resting, my arm will develop weather forecasting properties.” My voice sounds dull and distant.

“Now you’re twisting my words, my lady. I’m just looking after your well-being.”

“And I appreciate it.” Leaving the window, I take my cloak off the hook. “But I am fully healed, and if I don’t get some fresh air, I will lose my mind, and then what good will I be to the prince? I’m going out for a bit, and when I get back, I’ll take a warm bath to soothe my muscles. Is that okay with you?”

“Well, I don’t suppose it matters what I think.” Aisling sniffs.

“Thanks for your concern, Aisling.” I wrap myself in the cloak and step into the hall.

Even with the soldiers that inevitably follow me around, leaving my room is incredibly refreshing. I stalk through the palace halls.

If dragons are in use again on the battlefield, I have a good idea where I’ll find Talan. I step into the brisk air outside and head for the Lost Palace, the one Nimuë built.

Although it’s still freezing out, the sun is blazing off the snow. My feet crunch as I walk out the eastern gates, my guards trailing behind me. I cross onto the snowy, cobbled roads, worry pricking at me about the war in Scotland and the lack of communication from Avalon Tower. I hurry past snow-dusted cottages, my chest tight. Gradually, the houses thin, and I’m surrounded by misty silver birches and pines. A statue-lined path winds through the forest. At the end of the footpath, the Lost Palace towers above a wintry garden, ice gleaming from its ivy-lined walls. My gaze flicks to Nimuë’s marble form as I pass by her and feel my wrists tingle in the spot where her tattoos are marked.

A deep, muffled voice pierces the wood as I move closer to the door. On the other side, someone is speaking in soothing tones. My heart picks up a notch. Who is Talan talking to? I’m desperate to eavesdrop on him.