Never one to back down easily, Airlie turns narrowed eyes on her husband and snaps, “Rooke said she would rather ‘walk until her feet bleed’ than ride Soren’s beast of a horse back to the castle. You told me that! She used the last of her strength to ensure she didn’t have to be in his presence, so how can I, in good conscience, leave her alone with him while she’s in such a sorry state?”
Roan hesitates long enough that I answer for him.
Through gritted teeth, I snarl, “There are dozens of newly arrived Outland soldiers here. They didn’t witness the battle as the rest of Yregar did, and any one of them could decide to take matters into his own hands. She’s in danger because of their blind hatred.”
Hurried footsteps ring out down the hallway, obscured by Airlie’s scoff at me. “Don’t you mean your own blind hatred? Taking your anger of the war out on your own Fates-blessed mate, when all she’s done is help us to fix our misguided ways? I'm not blameless either, cousin. When you dragged her home, I saw her as nothing more than an agent of Kharl Balzog arriving here to take my son from me, but she proved herself to me. She has given so much of her knowledge, time, and patience to us all, Soren, simply to be obedient to the Fates’ demands of her. You have given her nothing but scorn and contempt, no matter the truth laid out before you. She trusts me, and I won’t fail her. On my son’s life, I’ll keep her safe.”
The chamber doors open in a rush before the footsteps come to a halt in the empty living area. Whether Reed and his healer heard any of the confrontation, they stay silent as they wait.
Roan casts a look between his wife and me before he calls out, “In here, there can be no delay.”
Reed steps into the doorway, his eyes steadfast on the marble floor even as he waves the female ahead of himself, and the snarling beast within me crows at the submission. If he looked upon Rooke right now with the camaraderie the two have shared in my presence before, in my current state, I would rip his throat out and offer his blood to the land, the first of many sacrifices I intend on making under Rooke’s begrudgingly given guidance.
Still, he hovers in the threshold of the room as though he’s standing guard over my Fates-blessed mate, and irritation ripples down my spine. The bonds of the friendship betweenthem are strong enough that he believed her warnings. He let her out of the dungeons, a treasonous act from the Outland’s most loyal soldier in Yregar’s hour of need.
My gaze lands on Airlie once more, and I switch to the old language. “The only reason you’re not in the dungeon right now for treason is my fated bond with Rooke. Don’t speak to me of trust, cousin.”
Tension rolls in waves from Roan, and for the first time, I see Airlie hesitate. I turn to Reed’s choice of a healer to give my cousin the space to mull over my words.
I need to be sure they sink in.
The part-blood female who runs the orphanage has always been respectful yet frosty toward me and all other high fae, a careful distance she has placed between herself and everyone else but one I've always respected. I understand its origin. The poor treatment of the children is something I've worked diligently to change, but old prejudices are difficult to stamp out.
She bows deeply to me, then to Roan and Airlie as well. Airlie simply nods and gestures to the bed without turning away from me. “We appreciate your help, and any guidance you may have.”
The woman is a little less frosty with Airlie, probably thanks to all the gifts Airlie has seen taken down to the orphanage over the many years since her first son was taken from her, and though Roan was always the one to deliver them, this woman seems inclined to good favor with my cousin.
She hesitates, but when I also gesture toward the bed, she steps around it, a hiss leaking from between her lips when she sees Rooke’s face. Thanks to Airlie’s protective stance, I can't see what damage lies there, but the image of those burns and blisters flashes into my mind, compelling me half a step forward.
Airlie’s stance shifts, her arms uncrossing and her fists propping onto each of her hips. She shifts tactics, never one to back down. “Whynn needs space to work, Soren. We need anaccurate assessment, not one fueled by panic at the hands of a snarling high-fae prince wracked with guilt.”
Her insult falls flat, though I stop my advance, leaving the female to look over Rooke for now. She doesn’t attempt to touch her, simply surveys the damage at a respectful distance while Airlie and I stare each other down.
“I’m not guilty for taking the future and wellbeing of my kingdom into consideration at every turn, Airlie! How could I call myself a good king for my people if I didn't question her actions? She didn’t tell us the entirety of her fate.”
Whynn carefully crouches over the bed, lifting the sheet and murmuring prayers to the Fates under her breath at whatever further damage she finds. My skin itches with the need to shove Airlie out of the way to see it for myself, and Roan shifts into a protective stance of his own as he prepares to intercept me.
“You wouldn't have believed her anyway! You would've seen it as some trick she devised in her evil plan.”
Airlie breaks off for a moment and takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising a little before she pulls herself together with a long and slow exhale. Her eyes are clear and her gaze unflinching when she finally fixes it back on me.
“I’m not being unreasonable, cousin, I'm trying to prevent you from doing further damage. Why would I attempt to separate you from her? I was the one pushing you to trust her in the first place. From the moment my son was born and I gave her my trust, Rooke has protected me above all else, and now I must do the same for her. Take your ego out of this for a moment and think clearly. If she wakes and finds herself in your rooms, under your guard, there's every chance she’ll use her magic and rip apart another wall of Yregar just to get away from you.”
It should be far more alarming to me how little I care about Rooke’s magic destroying this castle. I’m willing to lose the entire royal wing to her temper if it means keeping her here.
The pointed sound of a throat clearing interrupts us, and Airlie finally turns away from me to face Whynn, the shift in her body revealing Rooke’s face and the angry blisters there. The patches of damage have doubled in size during the time I’ve been away from her, spreading farther down her neck until they disappear under the white linen shift she’s been changed into.
Her skin is clean, the grime of the battle wiped away, and her hair has been freed from the braid and brushed. It’s clear Airlie has taken care to make her friend presentable even in her current state of injury, affection in the actions that makes the seething mess of my gut writhe even more.
Whynn looks between the two of us before finally settling on me, bowing respectfully once again, but I find myself irritated at her delay to just tell me what aid she can offer.
She looks as though she would rather cut her own hands off than deliver me news. At her words, I know why.
“There’s nothing that can be done for witcheswane injuries, only prevent any further exposure and wait for the body to heal itself. In a way, she's lucky she's sleeping, and I'll be praying for the Fates’ mercies that she stays that way until the worst of the damage has healed.”
Roan curses under his breath, a sentiment I can’t utter thanks to my own jaw clenching violently.
I have to pry it open to speak. “Is there truly nothing that can aid her, not even for the pain?”
