A choked sound ripped out of my throat. A sob without tears. Gasping and shivering, I got under the thick, white fur and burrowed into the pillows and mattress. Like a child hiding from monsters, I pulled the fur duvet up and over my head, curling into the darkness as if it would protect me.
But it wouldn’t. I knew it wouldn’t.
I wasn’t a child anymore.
And the monsters, it turned out, were very, very real.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN Wylfrael
I woke at dawn. I could tell the sun was rising by the soft bloom of colour warming the walls of the chamber, making the deep pink into something almost orange. The crystal walls were too thick to let in the starlight at night, necessitating firestone lanterns. But sunlight penetrated with much stronger rays, making the castle glow almost as if from within during the day. When the sun rose, it warmed this tower first. Then, it trekked above the centre tower, the Day Tower. The third tower was the Eve Tower, which lay closest to the mountains where the sun set each night.
I sat up in bed, stretching my wings experimentally. Good. The shallowest wounds, the ones created by the human weapons, had already healed during sleep. The deeper ones, inflicted by my cousin, would take longer, though.
I bit back a rush of impatience at that. I didn’t have time to sit around here waiting to heal. I gave a grim, short laugh when I remembered that things could have been worse. I could have been on the brink of death, forced into an ages-long slumber to recover, the way I had been after my last fight with my cousin.
I slipped out of the bed, feeling a sharp ache all around my torso and back where Skalla’s claws had dug in so deep. My tail snapped back and forth, my wings flickering with tension. Where are you, cousin?
A soft rap at the door pulled me from thoughts of Skallagrim.
“Enter.”
Shoshen opened the door and came in, ears flattened.
“My lord. I heard you rise and wanted to bring you fresh clothing.”
I took a bundle of soft Sionnachan leather from his hands.
“You heard me rise?” I asked, lifting a questioning brow. Sionnachans had excellent hearing, but not good enough to hear me from the servants’ quarters in the Day Tower.
“Ah, yes. I have been out there for some time.” He pointed out the door to the landing. “I did not want to wake you, so I waited to hear movement.”
“You’ve been waiting out there since before the sun rose?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Ashken, Shoshen, and Aiko exemplified the Sionnachan spirit. Loyal, industrious, and gentle.
“Thank you,” I said. Shoshen looked pleased, a smile tugging at his orange face.
I pulled on the fresh trousers, along with one of my vests, and a pair of boots, no doubt taken from my old room in the Eve Tower.
As if sensing my thoughts, Shoshen said, “Your old room is ready too, my lord, should you choose to use it.”
“I will remain here for the time being,” I informed him. As long as that human was in the room overhead, I wouldn’t sleep anywhere else. “Have you heard any movement upstairs?”
“None, my lord.”
Hmm. Was that good or bad? I knew nothing about human sleeping patterns or needs, but the silence above made me uneasy.
“Some breakfast, please. For the human and for me,” I said to Shoshen.
“Yes, my lord!” He left.
I wasn’t even hungry. In all honesty, I just wanted to give Shoshen something to do that would provide me with a little uninterrupted quiet.
But it was too quiet. Shoshen was right – no movement from above. My jaw ticked.
Before I knew what I was doing, I had sprinted up the stairs and yanked open the door to the human’s room.
My eyes scanned the dawn-flamed chamber, muscles tensing at the idea that she might have collapsed somewhere on the floor during the night. But I did not see her anywhere on the floor, nor in the bathtub. The door to the water closet was open, and she was not there, either.
Which only left the bed.
I knew she was there before my eyes landed on the lump under the white bedding. Her distinct scent was strongest over there, laced with the fragrances of clean, soft fur and soap. I stole over to the bed, staying silent in case, like me, she could be woken by sound. I wanted the chance to observe her unnoticed. To look down at this interloper, my prisoner, without her speaking my name and looking back.
My gaze fell on her sleeping face, and my entire body stilled.
Every time I see this human, she is different.
Removing her protective gear and outer clothing had turned her into another creature entirely. Sleep, it seemed, did something similar. Gone was the panic and tension, the fight and the fear from her face. No more terror, no triumph. She was on her back, only her head, neck, and hands visible. Every feature had smoothed, her brow relaxed, her fingers slack against the fur. Tiny breaths made the furs rise and fall. She looked nearly innocent like this – an innocent invader. Dawn brushed her pale skin and dark eyelashes with pinkish-gold, gold that I knew would match her eyes if she were to open them. Standing over her like this, I was reminded of the first words I’d said to her, out there in the snows of Sionnach.
Wake up, woman, and tell me just what you think you’re doing in my world.
The question was still there. The urge to wake her, though, was not. Now that I knew she was alive, I could rest a little easier in this moment of quiet. This moment with no running, no fighting, no making sure she followed me or ate.
“Why can you not always be this easy to deal with?” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.
A little pucker appeared between her brows, as if, even in sleep, she wished to display some sort of defiance against me. Instinctively, I snapped open my wings and arched them overhead to block some of the light hitting her face.
Her face once again relaxed, a silken sigh emitting from parted lips. I adjusted the angle of my wings to better shade her, and it was only when the movement made one of my wounds throb in protest that I stopped to wonder what in the blasted stars and stone I was doing.
She was my prisoner! I was not here to help her sleep better.
Let her face the dawn. Face me.
My wings drew back in a movement so quick it made dark hairs rustle around her face. The pucker of tension between her brows returned as the light flooded in, and that both satisfied and bothered me.
I was allowing the human to do far too much of that. Bother me. She was weak. Pitiful. A fragile creature who’d had to build a machine just to get here at all. I was a god. I could smash the stone of the sky with a single blow of my fist and cross the universe with one beat of my wings.
And yet...
And yet, I was left unsettled, on edge, wings flickering with tension and fangs grinding, all because of the little human sleeping in this bed.