Page 68 of Why Broken Wings Fray

“I know you did.”

As I came down from that place of delusion and fear, the adrenaline soaking off and into the water, survival took over. Shock took possession of me, rattling my bones against one another and causing my breathing to come in choppy bunches.

“I… H-how.. H-how do I… Do I do…”

“Easy,” he whispered, his hand back to my spine where the movements resumed and my eyes fluttered shut. “It’s not easy. Not the first time, nor the hundredth time. And I have nothing to say, nothing to offer, that makes it easier.”

A pained, strangled noise escaped me as I let my head fall heavy to one side, my cheek placed to my knee so that I could see Killian.

“Come on,” he finally said after several moments in silence, his soothing motions constant. “Let’s get your hands fixed up, then let’s get you to bed.”

I nodded, my body going limp as I lacked any strength and all energy to so much as lift myself out of that place of doom. Killian swept me up into his arms, his movements swift and easy, before he carried me out of the ensuite and onto my bed. I waited there, my limbs like jelly, as he sorted through some clothes and managed to find some trousers and a shirt that looked as if it would fit.

Neither of us said a thing as he dressed me, as he placed my arms through holes and pulled my pants to my waist. I cried, more and more with every movement, until I was gone, slipping away into exhaustion.

Blinking in and out of consciousness, I remembered the halls of the Cluaineach castle, the healers room, and then a pixie with blond hair and fox-like green eyes standing over me, tucking my sheets against my chin, and placing a kiss atop my head.

31

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I slept for a day and a half.

People came and went as the sun shifted through the sky and night took form again. Killian entered and exited as he pleased, always smiling down on me when he thought I was asleep, always adjusting my hair so that it did not strangle me in my sleep.

Shea and Aisling paid me a visit at some point, setting some tea on the small table beside the bed. The smell of it, the overwhelming scent of something somewhat minty yet sweet, was what drew me out of sleep long enough to drink it all.

Raegan waltzed in and out, too. I always knew when it was him without opening my eyes, without him speaking. Not only was it his scent, something earthy and natural that caused my nostrils to flare and threatened to throw me right out of the bed, but the very beating of his heart. It pulsed through the room like it was a living thing that resided within the walls, rumbling the structure of the castle.

He did various things as he entered. He often brought small items of food, mostly fruit, and the occasional cup of tea. He had a seat that he had pulled from another room set at the edge of my bed, where he sat and spoke to me. Mostly when I was only half-conscious, too deep into a pit of exhaustion to answer. But he continued to speak, to ramble off complete and utter nonsense. Tales, mostly. Fairytales, the types of stories that they told to young pixies, all of which were capable of setting me back into sleep, which was when he would leave. And I always knew he had left, because the parting of his subtle warmth, his caressing scent, and his mere presence would yank me right back out of sleep. Each time I would look over to see his chair empty, groan, and try to throw myself back under the covers.

~

I had slipped back into another stretch of sleep that likely would have kept me for a few more days at least, when shouting rose from the hallway, only for my door to be nearly bashed in completely.

“Oh–”

“Olivia!” Raegan shouted, his face steamed red and his eyes almost bloodshot. There he stood, completely unkempt from his hair that was blasted in all directions to his shirt that was untucked and on an angle. “Olivia! Olivia! Wake! Wake now!”

All I could generate was a pained groan, the back of my hand placed to my brows, and a curse that he may or may not have deserved.

“Come! Come on!” he continued, relentless as ever, as that hidden smile on his face started to gleam the farther into my room that he pushed.

At last he was at the edge of my bed, peering down at me, contemplating. It took me too long to figure out what he was contemplating as he flicked his eyes from my exhausted face to the covers around my neck. He wasn’t seriously going to–

“Raegan!” I screamed as he tore the sheets clean from my body and allowed a nasty breeze to slide over every inch of me. “You brute! Give it back!”

He laughed, innocently and joyfully as he snatched more and more of my covers, pulling them back and holding them above his head when I reached for them. There was something so carefree to the King as he let out another bout of laughter, the noise so powerful that it shook the walls and fastened itself to my bones. So much so, that even though I was freezing and my teeth were clattering, I couldn’t help but to grin and shake my head.

“Why are you in here? Oh, you ignorant bull, I’m freezing!”

“Come come come,” he continued, striding away from my bed and discarding my sheets on the floor. He moved straight for the armoire, disregarding all of my tuts and retorts that demanded he leave my room at once and allow me to rot in the warmth of my bed.

One by one he peeled clothing from their piles, flicking them over his shoulder with such precision that they knocked me square in the face. Grunting for a whole new reason, I finally gave in as the stubbornness that was Raegan seemed unwilling to quit, and rose from bed.

I drew each item of clothing – noticeably Cluaineach, that soft and airy material – up my body, scowled, and rocked my weight over one hip.

“Well?”