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“So you can fallagain?” He pursed his lips, incredulous.
Eirah couldn’t hear what else he complained about because her eyes fell shut, and everything became quiet.
* * *
Nine days had goneby of Eirah slipping in and out of consciousness. Ulva had come in and washed her as best she could, and the king had been at her bedside frequently, watching her contemplatively as if she were a puzzle to solve. Ulva had recently left, refusing to let her bathe just yet.
Eirah didn’t care anymore, regardless if she was ill or not. She’d taken a bath by herself for years—she wasn’t a newborn babe. Pushing herself from the bed, she stumbled as she walked into the bathing chamber, but she didn’t collapse onto the floor. It was progress.
She turned on the water, letting the tub fill while peeling the sweat-soaked nightgown from her body. Ulva had helped change her nightly, so, thankfully, she hadn’t worn the same clothing for days.
But her body smelled like the stables.
Eirah swayed as she stepped into the warm water, lowering herself into its depths. Grabbing the bar of soap, she ran it up her body and through her hair.
“This is good, Eirah. Just what you needed,” she whispered as she settled against the back of the tub to relax before she attempted to walk to the bed.
And as fast as lightning striking the earth, sickness washed over her once more. Her chest heaved, and her breathing grew ragged. This was all Morozko’s fault. He’d done this to her, and she didn’t know why his blood was still clinging inside of her after all this time. It was like a pesky insect that wouldn’t go away. What if it never vanished?
A new sensation brewed within her, tingling at first before a sharp pain traveled up her arms and down her legs. Eirah’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body drifting downward, slipping beneath the water until she was completely covered. She tried to push herself up, but she was unable, just as she was unable to breathe.
Her heart thrummed inside her chest, crashing against her rib cage. She needed air and she couldn’t do anything, even though she yelled at herself to thrash, to scream.
And then she stopped, knowing this was to be her sacrifice.
11
MOROZKO
Nine days were too long for this. The effects of Morozko’s blood should’ve tapered off by day two, if not the same day. The reaction Eirah’s body was having was extreme, and he’d witnessed nothing like it. It should have only brought to the surface what lingered in the depths of her being. The magic he’d seen in his visions… But what was wrong with the mortal? Morozko frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood in the hallway outside of his chambers. Xezu came to report about an area of interest—a part of the forest at the base of the mountain—which Morozko believed was the location from his visions. What the spot had to do in the grand scheme of things, he hadn’t a clue, but it kept flickering in his mind.
“I don’t understand why she’s ill,” Morozko ground out. He’d given a few humans his blood before, but not so many that he could predict what would happen. This was all a guessing game, and he was relying on what he saw in flashes to help him.
“She is human, Your Majesty. We… are unlike demons and don’t recover as swiftly,” Xezu replied, casting a glance down the hall. “As for her disposition, try having a care about her predicament, Your Majesty. It is a lot to take in.”
“I told her how I’m tied to the land.” Morozko glanced down at his hand, picking beneath his thumbnail.
Xezu didn’t stammer, but he did begin to speak several times only to stop, then offered, “May I inquire as towhy?”
He flexed his fingers, chuckling darkly. “She tried to stab me.”
“Again, Your Majesty?” Xezu sighed tiredly.
Morozko’s brows furrowed, and he shrugged. “I seem to have that effect on her.”
The king pushed off the wall. Sometimes, he nearly forgot his steward was human. They weren’t as close as kin, yet he did trust the man. But his differing complexion and shorter stature always reminded Morozko of what he was. Still, he appreciated Xezu reminding him of a mortal’s frailties.
Morozko hissed. “That does not change the reason she is here.” Besides, her emotional turmoil wasn’t his responsibility. It wasn’t his duty to ensure she was comfortable outside of the luxuries he gave her. His jaw muscles leaped as he clenched his teeth. The recent vision brewed a steady unease within him.
He closed his eyes, allowing the image to play within his mind again.
Eirah’s lips pressed into a thin line as she faced him, her dark hair caked with dirt. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and tears beaded her lashes. Morozko knelt on the ground, holding his throbbing side. Liquid seeped through his fingers, warm and sticky.
“Morozko. Please,” she rasped.
It was clear, at that moment, that her sorrow and horror were directed at him. But why did she care if he succumbed to his injuries, if the entire legion of changelings swarmed him, taking him under?
“Morozko!”
