Page 33 of A Blade of Blood and Shadow (The Ravaged Kingdom #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Three

I t was still dark when I awoke. At least I sensed that it was still night. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn over the windows. I wasn’t in the sitting room anymore.

I was lying in a four-poster bed large enough to fit twelve, which was made up with sheets such a deep shade of green they might have been mistaken for black. They felt pleasantly cool against my skin, offset by the warmth of the fire crackling in an enormous stone grate.

The flames cast a soft glow over the room, allowing me to take in my surroundings.

Tiny gold stars adorned the ceiling above me, which told me I was still in the House of Guile.

They were reminiscent of the ones in the upstairs parlor, and the heavy wood furniture and dark green palette matched the aesthetic of the other parts of the house.

To my relief, none of the creepy carvings leered over me, but when I pushed myself into an upright position, I found myself facing a stunning assortment of steel that gleamed along the wood-paneled walls.

My mouth fell open .

Weapons — dozens of them — hung from racks on the wall opposite the bed. Daggers of every shape and size: short swords, broadswords, throwing stars, battle axes, and even the odd scythe.

The way the weapons were arranged, I could tell the owner treasured them as much as any work of art. The way I would, I realized.

That’s when it hit me whose bed I was in.

With a jolt of alarm, I threw back the covers, but I was still wearing most of my clothes. Only my jacket and boots were missing, along with my weapons belt.

I glanced at the chair beside the bed and let out a slow exhale when I saw my holster.

Kaden must be somewhat recovered if he had carried me up to his bedroom. It made me slightly uneasy that I’d slept right through it, though it was possible he’d used some dark fae magic to levitate me up here.

Lifting my arm, I gave an experimental sniff and shuddered. The stench of the Watchman’s fortress still lingered on my skin — that salty odor of death and decay.

Part of me couldn’t believe I’d journeyed to the in-between and lived . The fight with the Vikkarni seemed like a lifetime ago, as did our imprisonment in that cell above the sea.

As the memories came flooding back, panic tightened my insides.

The book.

I’d been so concerned with getting Kaden back to our realm —so afraid that he might die — that I’d completely forgotten about it. I’d shoved it into the pocket of my jacket before rowing back across that horrid black sea, and then —

As if in answer to my unspoken question, a little ball of faelight flickered into existence, illuminating the lamp at my bedside. My gaze fell to the table, and my shoulders sagged with relief.

Mankara’s text was lying on the nightstand, as though Kaden knew I’d be looking for it. Its black linen cover seemed more faded and frayed than before, but otherwise it looked no worse for surviving the journey from the in-between.

Gingerly, I reached for the book, half expecting it to come alive and fling itself open the way it had in our cell. But the little tome didn’t so much as quiver as my fingers closed around the spine and pulled it toward me.

The spine groaned slightly as I cracked it open, making me question my memory of what had happened when the book had presented itself to me. I felt a slight tingle of that familiar magic, though it wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been before.

Slowly, I leafed through the text, marveling at the trailing lines of runes.

At first glance, all the symbols had looked similar, but examining the book in better light, I could see the intricacies that distinguished each one.

The spidery text that accompanied the runes was so faded it was practically illegible, and yet I didn’t need to read it to know what each of the runes was for.

There were runes for healing simple ailments — headaches, chest colds, heartburn, and fevers. There were runes for mending broken objects, runes for concealing, runes for unlocking, runes for keeping meat from turning rancid, and runes to stop a floorboard from squeaking .

I intuitively understood every single one. Casting them was another matter.

I’d just gotten to a section on runes for cleaning and scouring when the bedroom door swung open. I snapped Mankara’s text shut, my body instantly on high alert.

Kaden nudged inside the room, carrying a tray of food. “You’re awake,” he said, his silvery-gray eyes roving over me with a look I could not read.

“You’re alive.” My voice sounded strangely hollow despite the relief that coursed through me.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Thanks to you.”

I sighed and brandished Mankara’s text. “Thanks to this book.”

Kaden lifted his eyebrows, crossing the room and perching on the edge of the bed. He set the tray down beside him and fixed me with a serious look. “Last I checked, that book didn’t haul my sorry ass back to our realm and force the antivenom down my throat.”

I cracked a smile at his choice of words, taking the glass of water he offered me. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple of hours. You hungry?”

As if in reply, my stomach gave a loud gurgle. Kaden smirked and nodded toward the tray.

The food was simple — turkey sandwiches on wheat bread with lettuce and tomato and a bowl of fresh fruit.

I plucked a grape from the bowl and brought it to my mouth, pausing before it touched my lips. “Is it . . . safe to eat?”

I felt foolish for asking. Kaden had saved my life on more than one occasion, but he was still fae.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not enchanted. ”

“You can never be too careful,” I muttered, popping the grape into my mouth.

In that moment, I thought it might be the best thing I’d ever tasted. I might have believed him if he’d told me it was enchanted.

“You look better,” I said. He no longer looked like death warmed over, anyway. He was still wearing his torn leather jacket, but the blood was gone, and most of the color had returned to his face.

“I may have freshened up a bit,” he admitted, and I remembered the way he’d magicked my ball gown away the night of Caladwyn’s party. Presumably, he could magic away blood and grime just as easily.

“I take it you can access your magic again?”

He nodded. “Thanks to you.”

“You could have thanked me by giving me a magical cleaning before I got your sheets all dirty,” I mumbled.

A wry grin twitched at the corner of Kaden’s mouth, and he snapped his fingers.

Immediately, the dried blood caked along my neck and in the divot between my collarbones disappeared, as if my skin had been scrubbed clean.

My hair unraveled from my ratty braid, settling around my shoulders in loose, silky strands.

It felt lighter without the blood and grime, and I no longer reeked of that rancid water.

The dark-green silk that made up the bedding took on a more illustrious sheen, and I nearly cried with relief at being clean .

“I’m sorry,” said Kaden softly.

“For what?”

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “For what I said to you after Caladwyn’s party.”

I loosed a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding .

“I . . . didn’t mean it,” he murmured.

“I thought the fae couldn’t lie.”

“We can when we’re also lying to ourselves,” he said, his voice so soft I barely heard him as he reached over and took my hand.

My skin heated at the light contact, and I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was in his bed.

Kaden’s gray eyes seemed softer than usual as they flicked up to meet mine. My breath caught, and I couldn’t speak — couldn’t explain why his words had cut me so deeply.

Maybe because, for the first time in years, I wasn’t alone in the world.

Even if I couldn’t fully trust Kaden, we were allies with a shared purpose that went beyond staking vampires and siphoning their blood.

He’d been kind to me. Treated me with respect.

Protected me before I’d even agreed to help him.

Against my better judgment, I’d come to like Kaden, and there was a small, treacherous part of me that wanted him to be more than an ally.

But before I could untangle my own mess of emotions, his thumb began making slow circles along the inside of my palm — obliterating any hope I might have had at forming a coherent thought.

“I was . . . angry about the bargain,” he explained. “I should have just told you why.”

I waited silently for him to continue, my attention going to those distracting circles he was making on my palm — the few inches of skin that had come alive at his touch.

“Being from the Quarter, I shouldn’t have expected you to know about faerie politics.

” He sighed. “In my homeland, the crown of Anvalyn is . . . contested. The current king Alfrigg has yet to produce an heir, and . . .” Kaden dragged in a breath, and his eyes narrowed as he stared off into the distance.

“Let’s just say my cousin has ambitions .

Ambitions that include preventing me from ever taking the throne. ”

My eyebrows rose as his words washed over me. His cousin? The throne? “Do you mean to tell me you’re some kind of . . . fae royalty ?”

Kaden grimaced and tilted his head to the side in a noncommittal gesture. “A bastard, but technically . . .”

“And Caladwyn is your cousin ?”

“My mother’s sister’s son.” Kaden gnawed on the inside of his cheek but continued those idle circles along my palm.

“A lot of people would have to meet the wrong end of a sword for him to take the throne. Some say it would take much more than that for me to become king, but I expect your bargain was Caladwyn’s way of ensuring that I never get the chance. ”

I opened my mouth and then closed it again. Kaden was a bastard prince?

It certainly explained some of the looks we’d received from the other partygoers. But as I recalled the exact words of my bargain with Caladwyn, it still didn’t make any sense.