Page 29

Chapter

Seventeen

EZABELL

D usk settled over the village, the inn casting a long shadow over the ground.

I stood at the window with my fingers pressed to the glass.

Below, a lamplighter shuffled to a thick post with a ladder in one hand and a long, thin taper in the other.

He leaned the ladder against the wooden column, climbed the rungs, and lit the lantern at its crown.

A warm glow spilled over the packed dirt street.

The bed’s reflection appeared in the glass in front of me.

Dain rested against the mountain of pillows, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling evenly.

His color was better. The curse had receded to the bottom of his ribs, but it was still present.

He’d dozed throughout the day, an anxious Nikolas hovering over him until I finally ordered him to go find us dinner.

When he hesitated, I pointed to the bed.

“Dain won’t regain his strength without food.”

Nikolas had frowned. “What if he gets worse while I’m gone? I won’t know.”

I’d tapped my chest. “I’ll know. I can feel him right here.”

That had done the trick. Now, I waited for Nikolas, the Dokimasi a steady tug between my ribs. I’d spent days resenting it. Now, its presence was a welcome reminder that all was not lost. My quest continued. My connection to the sunstone remained intact.

Lamplight bloomed in windows across the street.

I searched the forest beyond the buildings, worry for Helios tugging at me just as insistently as the Dokimasi.

Although, maybe I shouldn’t have worried.

Helios had proven himself to be resourceful.

And he’d promised to stay close. If he was correct about shielding us from danger, we could probably relax for the night.

And resume searching for the sunstone in the morning. Except everything had changed. Despite Nikolas’s apology, I couldn’t just forget what had happened. He seemed sincere, but could I believe him? What if this was just another ruse to steal the stone?

On the other hand, what choice did I have?

If I left, Dain and Nikolas would die. And if Dain died, I might lose my connection to the sunstone.

For reasons I couldn’t begin to figure out, the Dokimasi had bound us together.

We needed each other, and the magic didn’t appear to care whether I liked it.

The door opened behind me, and I turned as Nikolas backed into the room. Pivoting on the threshold, he balanced a tray laden with bread, wine, and three steaming bowls. The scent of cooked vegetables and roasted meat hit my nose, and my stomach released an angry growl.

Nikolas’s lips curved as he went to the room’s only other piece of furniture—a worn clothes chest carved with suns and flowers. “Sounds like I came back just in time.”

“I guess that makes two of us,” I murmured.

He said nothing, but his wry smile let me know my gentle barb had landed.

Dain stirred, then opened his eyes. “Food,” he rumbled, pushing himself higher on the pillows.

Nikolas chuckled. “That’s right, big guy.

I brought stew.” He pulled a bundle I hadn’t noticed from under his arm.

“And a surprise.” Moving to the bed, he shook out various pieces of clothing and lay them on the quilt.

Men’s trousers. Linen shirts. A snowy white chemise and lace-trimmed drawers.

And, finally, a forest-green gown with yellow roses sewn around the hem.

My breath caught, the promise of clean clothing drawing me forward. “Where did you get this?” I asked, fingering the fabric. The gown’s style was simple, but it was obviously well made, its stitches so fine they were almost invisible.

“I bought it from the innkeeper’s wife,” Nikolas said. He caught my eye, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “With real coin.”

I lifted a brow. “Turning over a new leaf?”

He went to the chest and began sorting the food. Returning to the bed with a bowl in hand, he offered me a soft smile. “I think I’ll stick to stealing hearts.”

Warmth rose in my cheeks, but I wouldn’t let myself be charmed. Fetching a bowl and spoon from the chest, I returned to the window and faced the street.

The men murmured behind me. In the glass, Nikolas poured wine and carried it to Dain. A moment later, Nikolas settled on the edge of the bed with his own bowl. I dipped my spoon in my stew and blew on the steaming broth.

“You could join us,” Nikolas said, raising his voice. I turned, and he patted the bed next to him. “There’s plenty of room.”

“I’m fine here,” I said. “The view is nice.”

It wasn’t, really. The village’s sole lamp cast a meager puddle of light on the ground. Darkness swallowed everything else, the forest beyond the village’s few buildings a lumpy black mass against a dark purple sky.

Nikolas didn’t call my bluff. I turned my attention to my stew, which was as good as anything I’d eaten in the palace in Lum Laras. But even as the rich broth and seasoned vegetables warmed my stomach, my gaze returned again and again to the men’s reflection in the glass.

Nikolas tended Dain, plumping the pillows and helping him with his wine. He laughed softly when Dain dribbled it on the sheet, then smiled as he tucked a lock of Dain’s long hair behind his ear. He tugged gently on Dain’s thickening stubble, teasing him about needing a shave.

Dain stared up at him with an easy smile and open affection in his blue eyes. They were playful with each other. Tender. Banked desire underscored their interactions, but it was a quiet, steady intimacy. The kind built over time.

“How did you two meet?” I asked, the question bursting from me before I could think better of it. The men met my gaze in the window, both suddenly still. I cleared my throat. “You don’t have to?—”

“Prison,” Nikolas said. “I was ten. Dain was twelve.”

If I’d had any stew in my throat, I might have choked on it. “Ten?” I asked, indignation spinning me around. “They sent a ten year old to prison?”

Nikolas looked surprised by my reaction. “Dain and I were both caught stealing bread.” He frowned at Dain. “Or was yours pie?”

“Cakes,” Dain said. His expression turned wistful. “They had lemon frosting.”

“But you were children,” I insisted. “I can only imagine you stole food because you were hungry.”

“Yes,” Nikolas said, lifting a shoulder. “That’s how it works in Saldu Kuum. The Crown doesn’t care how old you are if you’re poor.”

My heart squeezed, images of children in cells parading through my mind.

“That’s barbaric. We don’t imprison children in the Summer Court.

” Then again, elven children were precious.

My people reproduced with far more difficulty than humans.

The scholars said immortality made it so.

The gods never gave a gift without taking another away.

Nikolas shrugged again, although his eyes held appreciation for my outrage. “Different kingdoms, different laws.”

Curiosity tugged at me. I placed my empty bowl on the chest and moved to the bed’s footboard. “And before prison?” I asked. “Where did the two of you grow up?”

Nikolas set his bowl aside, his expression neutral. “I don’t know who my father is. My mother worked in a brothel in Saldu. I was born there.” One corner of his mouth quirked up. “You can probably guess how.”

I could, and it set my heart aching. Or maybe the ache stemmed from seeing his usual mischievous smile paired with pain he didn’t quite manage to hide.

“That’s where I learned how to watch people,” he said. “How to charm them.” He gave a cynical-sounding laugh. “My mother always said the only difference between a whore and an actress was the spelling.”

His light tone did nothing to ease the weight of the words. Forget it , I wanted to say. Don’t speak of it. But I’d asked. The least I could do was listen as he answered.

Nikolas cleared his throat. “She sold me to the brothel-keeper when I was seven so she could retire to the countryside. I never saw her again.”

My feet moved without permission, carrying me around the bed. I sat next to him and took his hand. “That is monstrous,” I said, anger making my voice unsteady. “I’m so sorry, Nikolas.”

Surprise touched his eyes. He looked down at our joined hands, then placed his other on top. “Difficult circumstances have the power to make monsters of us all,” he said quietly. “She did what she had to do.”

“No,” I said firmly. “There are always choices. Always. What happened to you was wrong.” The ache in my heart became a hot, piercing thing. He’d suffered. Only the gods knew how much.

A flicker of vulnerability appeared in his eyes.

Then his usual smooth expression fell back into place.

He squeezed my hand. “It’s ancient history, Princess.

I left the brothel shortly before my eighth birthday.

Of course, I wasn’t as good a thief then as I am now, and I got caught.

” He looked at Dain. “We met in the dungeons of Saldu. The guards didn’t realize I was small enough to slip between the bars of my cell, so I’d sneak over to Dain’s when I got bored. ”

Dain’s eyes softened. “And steal my food.”

“You’ve got it backward, big guy.” Nikolas looked at me. “Dain’s been eating like a draft horse since he was born.”

I looked at him, indecision filling me. Nikolas’s story was heart-wrenching. Dain’s was probably worse.

“I didn’t know either of my parents,” he said in his usual low rumble. “The orphanage was my home until they threw me out when I was nine. I was too much trouble, they said, always asking questions.”

Tears clogged my throat. Was that why he was so quiet? Because he’d learned that curiosity meant being thrown away?