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Nymphs shuffled past us, deciding what they needed the most, and followed the directions down the subsequent halls. Ryker watched them quietly as they moved forward, smiling at those who offered their thanks and ruffling the hair of a child that pressed against her in a quick run-by hug.
Once everyone had hobbled away, the two of us remained in the hall. Ryker turned her pointed gaze to me. “You look like shit.”
I brushed at the dirt on my shirt. “How sweet of you to notice.” My fingers buzzed with the need to touch her again. I slipped them into my pockets to keep them from moving of their own accord.
“You can come with me,” she finally amended and turned to walk back the way we had come.
I followed her through the broken-down hallways, taking a few turns before she pushed open a door and walked into the room. Even dismantled, it was clear what the room had been used for, and what it was being used for now as well. Books that had at some point been pulled off the shelves, had their pages stuffed back in and were sloppily placed back where they belonged against the wall. A large desk, propped up by more books to make up for a broken leg, was mended where it had been split down the middle with a board and nails. All three chairs arranged before and behind it had been sliced open and sewn shut again. King Ganglin’s office.
Ryker had her own maps spread out over the available surface. Random weapons sat on the papers like very expensive paperweights. She pointed to one of the seats.
“Please, rest,” she whispered and reached for my bag. When she noticed my wandering eye she continued. “He is a terrible being, but surprisingly has good taste. I couldn’t let all this stuff go totally to waste.”
She had a point.
I groaned as I shrugged off the backpack, then hissed as the bag brushed my lower back. A long strip of skin felt excessively tight like I might rip it open if I moved too quickly. A spot I hadn’t noticed before.
“You’re injured?” She let the bag drop to the floor with a thud. It toppled over, items rolling out beside us.
“No, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Let me see.” She pushed aside my hand where I gripped the bottom of my shirt and peeled the material off my skin.
I bit my lip to keep from growling at the pain, placed both hands against the desk, and leaned into it. The sweat that had cooled when we entered the castle was replaced by a new sheen and my head spun. I nearly jumped as one of her calloused fingers traced the healing wound.
The blood on my shirt hadn’t been noticeable since I had changed into the oversized maroon shirt Shavarra had in her closet. I hadn’t even realized I had the wound until long after the attack had taken place. How was I to know how I even received it?
It hurt like hell, but the thought of losing Shavarra had hurt worse. So I pushed through it. My noble Fae blood had done enough to heal the majority of it.
“You should see the healer,” she said again, her finger pressed against it.
I reached back and pulled her hand away. “I said I’m fine.”
“Okay,” Ryker said.
“I just need a shower and I’ll be fixed up good enough. Maybe a meal and a nap wouldn’t hurt.”
“I agree.” She sat against the desk and watched me fall into the seat in front of her. “What happened, Dace?”
I shuddered a breath. If I thought too hard the memories of everything came back in painful flashes. Fae guards rushing Nymphs. Arrows flying. Fire burning their home to the ground. My mother and her booming voice. My father and his disappointment. The long dirt path that brought us here. The explosion that had left Shavarra limp in my arms.
“I lost everything,” I whispered into my palm as I leaned into my hand. My gaze traveled to the debris-covered floorboards. “My ass-hat of a friend discovered the refuge. He ratted me out to my parents. They attacked the refuge. Burned it to the ground.” I looked up as Ryker sucked in a breath and continued, “They revoked my crown. Shavarra sent someone to find me and…” I trailed off, not wanting to admit the terrible state I had been in that bar. “We took everyone that made it out and brought them here. We lost a few in the ambush that happened in the Acture Court.”
“And you’re sure they were sent by your mother?” she asked.
“These were definitely men from the Twinity Court.”
“Wow, you must have really upset your parents for it to be that bad.” She let out a long exhale. “You know what? Talking can wait, you need to bathe that wound and rest, let me show you to your room and bring you some food, and you can tell me more on the way.”
“Can’t go against what has been foretold,” I said as I leaned forward slowly, to avoid the dark haze of pain that made my vision blur, and stood. I followed her, continuing only when she gave me a questioning look, “They believe that what you see in your dreams is what is meant to be. That you should do everything in your power to make sure that dream comes to fruition as the gods have demanded.”
“I’m well aware. Butyoudon’t believe that?” Ryker stepped out into the hall, walking in a different direction than the one she had pointed the survivors of the refuge in.
“No.”
Ryker dipped her head in a small nod. She looked up at the ceiling in thought, as if the climbing green vines held the answer to her impending question. “Why is that?” she finally said, her eyes narrowed on me.
At what point was it appropriate to tell a woman you’ve dreamed of her for nearly one hundred years?
