Page 21 of Straw and Gold (A Realm of Revelry #2)

I thought I heard a chuckle but didn’t turn around. The truth was, I really did need rest. I shuffled to my bed and slumped, kicking off my shoes, tossing the belt onto his bed, and pulling my sheets over my body.

“You’re sleeping in my shirt?” he asked, sliding out of his jacket and hanging it back into his wardrobe.

I smoothed my cheek onto the pillow, closing my eyes and murmuring, “It’s this or naked, husband.”

“Go to sleep, Morella,” he muttered somewhere near my bed.

“Stop talking, then.”

“Córrch, Moh Dhóches.”

“I’ll rest when you stay quiet.”

The bed sagged and his hand grazed my cheek. I peeked one eye open.

“What did you say?” he asked in a wide grin, staring down at me like I was a Goddessdamn blessing of a wife.

“What?” I stumbled, turning to lie on my back.

“How did you know ‘córrch’ means ‘rest’?”

“Fucking hell, Killian.” I grabbed the first volume of Céaduah, Language of the Changelingfae from somewhere beneath my sheets and chucked it into his lap.

He caught it in his hands, that stupid grin there again. “You catch on quickly.”

“That one doesn’t count,” I mumbled, my eyelids drifting. He quirked a brow and I continued through a yawn. “That compliment—you’ve given me that one already.”

A deep rumble came from his chest and he locked me in—both of his arms on either side of me, pushing into the bed. “Am I not allowed to repeat my compliments?”

My eyes shot open in annoyance. “Of course you are, but maybe after you have a few dozen under your belt.”

He leaned forward and all I could see was him. “My shirt has never looked so good as it does on you.”

Even through the mounds of blankets covering my body, I shivered, suddenly very aware that I was underneath my husband. He took my chin in his hand, leaning down and whispering above my lips, “Ann córrch, banabh brèagha.”

He kissed me with lips that parted only slightly and pulled away before I was anywhere near done with him. He left my side and I remained, grinning like a fool.

Rest, beautiful woman.

Dawn came and I missed it. Late morning led to early afternoon, and still I slept. By mid afternoon, I stretched, burrowing my head into my pillow, my body sore from so much sleep.

“Does the exhaustion always take you to twelve hours of sleep?” My husband’s voice rumbled from somewhere near my bed and I smiled, soaking in the slow rise from sleep with him nearby.

“Yes,” I yawned, turning on my back and stretching my hands up to my headboard.

When I opened my eyes, I found him in a chair at my bedside, arms resting on his thighs and eyes roving over my body in his shirt. I kicked away the sheets, revealing all of the beautiful woman he had ordered to rest.

My shirt has never looked so good as it does on you.

A smirk drifted over my mouth and I locked my gaze with his, refusing to let go.

“ Morella ,” he rasped.

I lifted myself up to sit, folding my legs underneath me. “Yes?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but held back whatever he was going to say. Instead, he took the plate on the bedside table and positioned it between us. “You need to eat this.”

That black circle of meat was sliced into three thick pieces. I reared back in disgust. “No, thank you,” I squeaked.

He shook his head, grabbing a fork and cutting a bite-sized piece. “Fedir believes we’ve identified your condition, and if he is correct, it’s easily remedied.”

“With this?” I asked incredulously, turning my head again when he offered the bite.

“Iron. Your blood lacks or cannot retain it. These nuts,”—he pulled a small jar of thistle nuts from his pocket—“contain a high amount of iron, which is why they help you. This, however,”—he waved the fork in front of my face again—“contains three times the amount of iron and will be a far more beneficial food for you to consume regularly.”

I eyed the fuilhe with doubt. “Why does he believe this is my condition?”

“Exhaustion, dizziness, and cold hands are all symptoms. It’s more common in women due to their cycles and from how you describe that you’ve always been somewhat…weaker than other Ravenfae, this makes the most sense.”

I shrugged, my stomach churning at the evidence that added up. “Maybe I’m just cursed. And I don’t have cold hands.”

“Are you cursed, Morella?”

I thought briefly of my life and how everything was a struggle. Including getting my husband to do husbandly things. But there he was, sitting at the edge of my bed, offering food to help me feel stronger.

I shook my head in a solid no.

He set the fork on the plate and held his hand out between us, palm-up.

I placed my hand in his and he wrapped his fingers around mine. “Cold,” he confirmed softly. “Just like every time you’ve touched my arm, your hands have been cold.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, pulling my hand back. But his fingers trapped it there as he met my gaze again.

He picked up the fork with his other hand and offered the fuilhe for the third time. “Please cooperate.”

I leaned forward, opening my mouth and pulling the meat from the fork. He watched me chew slowly, tracking my movements as I swallowed.

“Good, Moh Dhóches,” he praised. Instant heat coursed through me, tingling my nerves. He cut pieces for me one by one until I’d managed to consume all three circles, all while murmuring variations of how well I was doing.

Good. That’s it. A little more, Moh Dhóches.

When I was finished eating and he was finished hand feeding me, he rose, stalking across the room to open the washing room door. “A bath has been drawn and everything you need for the day is here. Take your time.”

I scooted to the edge of the bed, following him into the washing room to see a steaming bath, a fresh towel, and a new gown, simple and dark red.

I picked it up, clutching the soft linen to my body. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes,” he replied with an irritating simplicity.

I rolled my eyes while turning to hide my smile. “Enlighten me,” I returned, repeating his own favorite phrase.

He opened the door, ready to leave. “We’re going into the town of Cenmar with Captain Fedir. To cleadha.”

Cleadha, cleadha, cleadha….

My mind raced, trying to pick up what the word meant.

He stared across the steam, waiting for me to catch up.

“To… to practice?” I finally suggested.

His face relaxed and he nodded. “To cleadha, Moh Dhóches.”