Page 58 of Fate of the Sun King

I drop my head against her shoulder, whispering a thank-you to Zerra.

“Give her a little longer,” Alder says. “I’ll brew some tea to help with the pain from that nasty bump when she wakes up.”

Alder stands and claps me on the shoulder before he shuffles to the tiny kitchen. I remain in the same position next to Lor, gripping her hand between mine like she might dissolve through my fingers if I let go. I can’t stand to think of how close I came to losing her. I remember her calling for me. I’ll never forget her voice for as long as I live.

Sitting on the floor, I hold Lor’s hand, watching her eyelids flutter and her forehead crease as though monsters are troubling her dreams. I wish I could reach out and take them from her. Take away all the pain she’s suffered and make it mine.

Finally. Finally, she blinks awake, staring up at the ceiling. It’s light out now, the sun having risen on what felt like the longest night of my life.

Her gaze moves to me, and an expression crosses her face that feels like she’s cataloging me. Reading every cell and pore until she penetrates the very depths of my marrow. I get a peculiar sense of the world tipping on its side, but I have no idea why.

“What is it?” I ask, but she shakes her head and looks up at Tristan and Mael, who are now standing behind me.

“What happened? It was your father’s men, wasn’t it?”

Everyone’s gaze flicks to Alder, who’s standing at the stove stirring a pot and humming to himself. I place a finger to my lips, reminding her to be discreet. She reaches up and touches my cheek, her fingers gentle, and it’s all I can do not to pick her up and kiss her until the sun burns out of the sky.

“You’re covered in blood,” she says. There’s no condemnation in her statement, only distant observation.

“They had to die.”

She blinks, her dark eyes simmering with rage while clearing with focus.

“Did they suffer?”

I raise an eyebrow and give her a crooked smile. “Very much.”

She nods and presses her lips together. “Good.”

“That’s my girl,” I say, and she gives me that same odd look again. Before I can ask her what the matter is, Alder thrusts a steaming mug into my vision.

“Here,” he says. “Drink some of this.”

I help Lor sit up, and she winces before she touches the back of her head. Rage, billowing clouds of icy vengeance, filters right to the tips of my fingers. What I did to those bastards wasn’t enough. I hope they suffer from now until the end of eternity.

She accepts the mug and takes a tentative sip before wrinkling her nose.

“Tastes like death warmed over,” Alder says. “But works like a charm.”

He chuckles and then walks away as Lor forces down another gulp.

“Are you okay?” Tristan asks, sitting near her feet.

She nods on a hard swallow. “I will be. I thought they had me.”

We all sit in silence for another few minutes while she continues to sip her tea. Color is returning to her cheeks, and the vise clamped around my chest finally eases—she survived this. Of course she did. She could survive anything.

“Do you think you can stand up?” I ask, preferring not to linger here any longer. Not only should we avoid staying in one place for too long, we should get back to Aphelion. Lor needs control over her magic now more than ever. My father will keep trying to get to her until it kills one of them. Of that I’m sure.

“I think so,” she says, placing her now-empty mug on the small table next to the bed. She pushes up to stand with Tristan’s hand under her elbow.

“Whoa,” she says, swaying on her feet. Before she can do anything, I’ve scooped her into my arms, and I’m rewarded with an angry glare.

“I don’t need you to carry me.”

“You nearly passed out just there.”

“I’m fine. Besides, you’re covered in blood.”