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At least these shifters had plumbed water, and most establishments in cold Elphyne climates had the pipes spelled to withstand freezing temperatures. The spell would hold for years like his satchel if it weren’t broken.
Heating was another convenience of mana that would disappear if the taint wasn’t cleansed. Heat-filled mana stones were already few and far between. Grumbling to himself, he turned on the faucet.
“How cold?” he repeated.
“Cold.”
Right. Because that’s a good explanation.From the rustling coming through the bathroom doorway, it sounded like she moved about.Better not be spying on my belongings.But if she lost her hands, he’d soon find out.
“And the temperature of the room?” He held his hand in the running water. It was as cold as it would get.
“You can close the window after her bath. Instruct the sprites to keep the blaze to a minimum.”
He searched the bathroom cupboards for salts to put in the water. Perhaps… he opened the cupboards and found fresh towels and paper for the flushing latrine. Maybe adding anything to the water was a bad idea. He should ask the Prime. He’d been wrong about everything else, after all.
Watching the water fill, he suddenly felt an acute kinship with Crimson, lamenting his failures. It seemed the harder Leaf tried, the bigger the mess he made. But he wasn’t the type to give up. Unlike Crimson, the thought of entering the ceremonial lake a second time made his skin crawl.
Unease prickled his skin again, almost like déjà vu. The tub was nearly full, so he turned off the faucet, rolled up his sleeves, and returned to the bedroom—time to ask some questions.
The Prime had left. But she’d stripped the sheets from the bed and replaced them with dry ones. Leaf scowled at the closed door. A steward or a guard must have been outside, waiting for direction from the influential Prime of the Order of the Well. She was likely a guest of honor in these ceremonies, hence the robe. Before he could ponder more, Nova whimpered and shivered. Her clothes were still damp, and with the frigid air blowing in, likely freezing against her skin.
But wasn’t that needed?
“Aleksandra better be right about this,” he grumbled, scooping her into his arms. Shockingly, she was still hot to the touch. He submerged them both in the tub water, fully clothed.
“Jace!” she exclaimed and tried to scramble out.
“Shh.” He tightened his embrace. “You must cool down, Estrella.”
It was shocking how easy it was for him to use that name. And every time he noticed it, that unease grew in his gut. He knew what it was but refused to admit it.
She groaned and rolled into him, pressing her cheek against his chest, panting with the effort to breathe. He detected a slight rattle in her chest, and a crease between her brows hadn’t left.
“I don’t like being sick,” she mumbled.
That familiar sense of unease swirled in his gut.
Should he have searched for Nova when Clarke first told him where to look? But she had only thawed a few months ago. Surely, that meant fate waited for him regardless. Or maybe he’d have found her encased in ice. Maybe he’d have melted the prison with mana because… because there was little taint to worry about back then.
Maybe she’d have helped avoid this entire war.
After the bath, he slipped a dry nightgown over her head, closed the window, and settled beneath the blankets beside her. He wanted to monitor her breathing—to ensure it stayed regular. The rattle was still there, but the crease between her brows was almost gone, and her skin no longer burned as though a fire pumped through her veins.
He’d ask the Prime tomorrow about his suspicions. Tonight, he’d ignore them. They were likely him overthinking things. Besides, once one answer was revealed, he sensed the rest would unravel like wool on a spool, making a further mess of his life. But—he yawned—he’d figure it out tomorrow.
ChapterSeventeen
Nova opened her eyes and blinked at the ornately carved wooden door across the room. Where was she? What happened? Was this a hotel room? It certainly wasn’t a forest floor.
An empty earthenware mug was beside her on a table. It smelled bitter. She licked her lips, almost tasting the scent, and scrunched her nose with a shudder.
The last thing she remembered was the waterfall… then the portal and riding into the snow. Oh yes, then there was the freezing temperature on her wet hair and ears—she touched her ears. They’d hurt and… and she caught a cold… or a flu.
It all came back to her. This was the Lodge where that hot guard had taken them. What was his name? Storm. She gathered the warm blanket to her chest and sat up to see the room better.
Wooden beams crisscrossed over the ceiling, a small fire crackled in the fireplace, and a nude Guardian elf slept beside her.
Leaf snoozed with one hand behind his head and the other… her gaze swept slowly down his sculpted body, landing on all the mouthwatering places she shouldn’t be staring at. His stretched pose pulled the skin taut over muscle, reminding her in great detail of the strength he possessed. Her pulse quickened as she followed the path of his arm lower… down past his abdomen, all the way to a suggestive long bulge beneath the blanket.
