I’ve never heard her mention an Issy in conversation, nor do I recognize the term or place.
Her trembles slowly start to subside, her breathing stabilizing.
It takes me a minute to realize she’s fallen asleep, her limbs completely limp. “Fallon?” I whisper, my lips still near her ear.
She doesn’t respond.
She doesn’t even move.
Sighing, I roll her to her back and palm her cheek. It feels icy beneath my hand, her lips holding a touch of blue.Like death, I think again, frowning.
This didn’t happen during her other episodes.
“Fallon.” My voice is louder now, my brows furrowing. “Fallon, wake up.”
Nothing.
I resist the urge to shake her, not wanting to risk injuring her in case she’s fallen into some sort of catatonic state. I don’t know much about these types of post-traumatic situations, but I know better than to force someone out of an emotional episode.
However, I also can’t leave her like this.
And I really don’t want her to wake up naked on the cold tile floor with me curled around her.
It wouldn’t be the first time she resurfaced to find herself in an uneasy situation around me, but that doesn’t mean I want her to be even more uncomfortable by waking up on the ground.
I carefully pull my arms and hands away from her, then stand and gently scoop her up against my chest. She’s a tiny little thing, her five-foot-one frame dwarfed by my six-foot-two one.
However, her smaller stature merely disguises the strong woman inside. I’ve seen her fire more than once. Typically directed at Kaspian and Nolan.
She’s not a fan of long interrogations. Given that hers has been going on for thirteen months, I’m not surprised.
I settle her into the bed and wrap her chilled form up in a big blanket. Her cheeks are still pale, but her lips are less blue, telling me she’s recovering from her episode.
I’ll have to let Bane know about the coldness later. He’s the one with the psychology background, having chosen to study and teach it at universities before magic showed itself to the world.
Fallon shivers a little in her sleep, drawing my attention to her mouth again.
“Hmm.” I return to the living area to grab her towel, then wander into the bathroom to discard it in a basket before plucking a fresh one off the warming rack.
Fallon still hasn’t stirred by the time I return, not that I’m all that surprised.
Pulling down the blanket, I lay the warmed cotton over her curves and wrap her back up in the comforter. Hopefully, that’ll help heat up her skin.
But just in case it doesn’t, I sit on the bed next to her to keep an eye on her.
Stretching my legs over the blankets, I cross my ankles and lean back against the headboard.
Checking my watch, I see that Kaspian will be making his announcement in less than five minutes.
Of course time decides to move faster now,I muse, rolling my eyes. That seems to happen when I’m with Fallon. It’s the waiting part that feels long.
“Well, my task was to watch Kaspian’s speech with you,” I tell her. “It technically counts if it’s on while I sit next to you, right?”
She doesn’t answer, but a glance at her face confirms her body temperature is returning to normal. Still, I press the back of my fingers to her cheek to check, wanting to be certain, and smile when I feel a kiss of warmth there.
Maybe it was the chilled tiles against her bare skin that made her so cold. Her blondish-brown hair is wet, too. That couldn’t have helped the situation.
It’s February in Iceland, making it quite cold here. And while magical enchantments—all linked to Iceland’s geothermal activity—heat the interior of the palace, the walls and floors can’t completely mask the frigid exterior temperatures.
