“Then,” I said dramatically, tracing my nails along the wide breadth of his shoulders above me, “we will ensure that neither of us ever have these regrets again.”
Chapter forty-one
THERE IS A CABIN
Rian
Daylight was breaking, brightening the walls of my yurt, but Nuala remained lying so still and silent upon my bed that it was unnerving. I had asked for my paperwork to be brought to me so I could handle it at the little bureau in my bedchamber. The one Nuala had sat at while I brushed and cut her hair the first day when I brought her back to the encampment with me. There was not enough space, but I could barely bring myself to take my eyes off of the unconscious witch. Leaving my tent was simply out of the question until she had awakened.
I found myself once more tearing my gaze away from where she slept and attempting to refocus on the rationing report I’d been trying to review. Carrick had brought me food hours ago, but the plate still sat untouched. He’d also ordered me to get some sleep so I could begin to replenish my magic, but I already knew I wouldn’t be able to close my eyes until Nuala had opened hers.
Besides, there was a part of me that was relieved to be once again unburdened of the constant strain of wielding such volatile power. It was usually rare for my magic to be so thoroughly exhausted, so I knew I had to appreciate the feeling for as long as I could. Even if it made it more difficult not to think about everything that hurt.
It had been a couple of weeks since the witch revealed that shewas my mate. I’d hoped that time would bring me clarity in the situation and my next move would become more obvious, but my confusion had only deepened.
I had initially decided to put some distance between us and even managed to stay away from her before Ciaran and Ornella went to the Vale. But the mere thought of her alone in Sage’s yurt had driven me to her less than a day after they’d left. I should have killed her for poisoning the Tithriall without hesitation. But instead, I’d found myself holding her while she broke down after slaughtering her entire coven. Then I’d insisted she return with me to my yurt despite the tension it created between us.
You are mine.And every bruised and poisoned piece of me is yours.
I could not seem to get those words out of my mind, even weeks after she’d spoken them.
Thankfully, I was distracted from my own spiralling thoughts by the feeling of Sage through our bond.
Summer cannot block herself properly yet. I need all of you to give us privacy, he told everyone except Ornella, and I smirked knowingly at his request.
Gross, Ciaran grumbled, and my smile widened again. The way he had come to see Ornella as something of a true sister in the last few weeks was truly heartening.
Nuala stirred, inhaling sharply through her nostrils as if she had been startled awake, and I quickly dropped my pen in the ink vial. Her eyes opened, and then she laid staring up at the ceiling while I tried to decide whether to go over to her. I was not always sure if my presence was welcome during the last couple weeks.
Éadrom raised his head off his paws where he lay on the floor between us and whined at me encouragingly.
“You are alright,” I spoke softly, not wanting to startle Nuala once she realized that I was in the room. But she sighed in relief when she heard my voice, so I rose and took a tentative seat onthe edge of the mattress with her. Her eyes closed again when my hand brushed gently over her healed head.
The sound of her skull cracking as she hit those stones would haunt me, and I heard it every time I looked at the blood still caked in her hair. Now she was finally awake, and we could go to the bathhouse to get her cleaned up properly so I could stop replaying that horrible moment. Maybe then I could forget the way my heart exploded in the same terror I’d felt while Aodhan was slipping away. Maybe I could go back to repressing the guilt and regret that I was never able to love him the way he deserved. And the fear that I could have lost her in the same way before I had the courage to try anything differently.
“Do you feel alright? Are you in any pain?” I asked.
“My head hurts,” she murmured, her eyes still closed as she enjoyed my touch. “What happened?”
“You hit it quite hard when you were thrown,” I said, unable to bring myself to tell her the extent of her injury or that she had almost died in my arms. But something in my tone or expression must have given it away because her eyes opened and she smiled in reassurance.
“I’m alright,” she told me, and something seemed to finally unclench in my chest.
“I know. I am fine,” I told her dismissively, but she merely raised her brows as if she knew better.
“Would it be so bad if you were not?” she challenged, and I forced a lighthearted snort.
“Even if millions of fey were not relying on me to be strong for them, my magic does not allow weakness.”
“It does with me,” she pointed out as she tried to slip her fingers beneath my hand where it rested on my thigh between us. But her gentle words made me move my arm away from her before I could curb the reaction.
Nuala seemed surprised, but I was unsure if that was because she’d broken our new and unspoken no-touching rule from the last couple weeks or if it was my rejection. Before I could decidehow to respond, she’d turned her face to the tent wall, and my heart sank once again at the sight of her blood on the pillow. Her lower lip quivered as she exhaled hard before she drew it between her teeth.
“You are busy. I should go,” she said softly.
“You are not going anywhere,” I growled immediately, even though I knew she had only meant to go to the front room and give me space. But keeping her close was as instinctive as pulling away had been when she reminded me that my magic was safe with her.
Nuala scoffed but did not turn to look at me.
