Marai gulped back tears. “And Nosficio?”
Aresti let out a snort and crossed her arms across her plated chest. “Oh, he’s been hiding out in the glen. He needed to stay away to quell the bloodlust. He also got severe burns from sun exposure, but he’s healing. I’ve been taking care of Queen Nieve in his stead.”
“What does that mean?” Marai sensed it was something she didn’t want to know in full detail.
Aresti grinned devilishly. “She’s needed someone to entertain her while she’s here.”
Marai rolled her eyes; this definitely wasn’t something she wanted to question further.
“Once Rayghast died, the life force he’d sucked from Nevandia returned. The lands are healing, as are the people. They see the change as a sign from Lirr,” Thora said. “I think some of Kadi’s magic still lingers in the ground. You should see the flowers blooming, Marai, so vibrant and beautiful . . .”
Like Kadi.
A tear fell down Thora’s cheek.
Raife wiped it away with a gentle finger. “And Thora’s worked night and day on healing those she can.” Raife gave Thora his sweetest, most loving smile. The open tenderness there filled Marai with gratitude and a deep, forlorn ache. “She’s saved a lot of lives. If there’s anyone the people trust amongst us fae, it’s Thora.”
Dark circles had formed under Thora’s eyes. How had she had the time? As far as Marai was aware, she’d hardly left her side. Each time Marai had awakened, Thora had been there.
“It’s a healer’s duty,” said Thora, blushing again.
“The war may be over, but there are still battles to be won. We’ve taken some Tacornian commanders and soldiers prisoner in our dungeons. They’re being questioned and tried fairly, but many are still at large,” Aresti explained. “Dul Tanen is currently occupied by Grelta to maintain order there, since the loyalists are rather persistent. A curfew is in effect for the whole city. Queen Rhia and the Tacorn privy council were escorted here to Kellesar. A few escaped, but we’ll find them eventually.”
Queen Rhia . . . what would happen to the woman who’d been bartered to an evil king by her own father? She’d protected her younger sister from a similar fate, and most likely suffered tremendous consequences for that betrayal.
“Varana’s also a problem,” said Raife with a sigh. “Ruenen’s still contemplating what to do with them. They’re begging for forgiveness, saying they had no other choice, that Queen Rhia was passing Varana information for weeks. We aren’t sure we can trust them.”
“Your prince already wrote a ballad about the battle,” said Aresti with a rare smile for Marai, “and he sang it on the moor to honor the fallen heroes of Nevandia. He . . . he sang it next to Kadi and Leif’s graves.”
Aresti turned away, shielding her face as she rubbed her wet cheek on her shoulder.
Ruenen.
Marai could barely contain the overwhelming emotions. “I need to see him.”
Thora frowned. “After his meetings, he’ll come to see you. He’s been busy, but he comes every night.”
Marai flung her legs over the side of the bed. She placed her bare feet on the fur rug and stood for the first time in days. Her whole body shook. The weight on her legs was too much; Marai staggered, and Raife came to her aid.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea . . .” he said as Marai took a wobbly step forward.
“I must see him.”
Raife sighed through his nose, but grabbed hold of her arm as Thora took Marai’s other hand. Without another word, they slowly led Marai to the bedroom door; Aresti followed behind. As they stepped out into the hallway, the temperature dropped. The early spring chill still lingered in the air. Marai became acutely aware of her bare legs and feet, and thin nightgown.
Buttery soft sunlight beamed through the windows. It seemed brighter than before. Servants in the hallway buzzed with activity. Some smiled, others gaped, not in fear, but in awe, as Marai approached. They stopped their tasks to watch the fae pass. One of the servants bowed her head in respect.
Marai nearly fainted on the stairs. There were so many stone steps, and her body was too weak, but she willed herself to go on, leaning her full weight against Thora and Raife. Eventually, her toes touched the cold tiled floor of the main hall.
The Witenagemot chamber doors were wide open. Four golden guards stood outside, along with three Greltan soldiers.
Marai shrugged off Raife and Thora as she stumbled forward. She couldn’t get her legs to move fast enough. She pushed too hard and fell against one of the oak doors, causing a thump to echo throughout the chamber.
All heads turned to her. The Nevandian Witan and Keshel stood around the table, mid-argument. Several chairs had been added for Nieve and her ambassadors, as well as a few timid Tacornian councilmen who had obviously turned coat already (one of them was quite old). Marai had interrupted something important, but she didn’t care at all.
The only person she saw was him.
Ruenen’s eyes opened wide. Dressed in all his finery, he stood from his throne and raced down the dais, discarding royal airs.
Marai rushed forward to meet him. She barely made it halfway across the room before collapsing.
But Ruenen caught her. As he always did.
He lowered her gently to the floor as she broke into wracking sobs. She couldn’t contain them anymore. She didn’t try.
Ruenen’s arms enveloped her as he gently rocked her back and forth. She clung to him, the way one does when coming up for air after being underwater. Like a freezing woman to a warm hearth. Flesh to bone.
He held her close, stroking fingers through her hair, kissing her brow. Rain drops from his eyes fell upon her already damp cheeks. They’d been so close to losing each other again. Only Thora’s magic and pure grit had kept them tethered to this world.
I will never leave him, Marai vowed, eliminating the old oath she’d made after Slate. That had been made in anger and fear. This new vow was stronger; stronger because it was forged in something more powerful than hate.
“You’re shivering,” Ruenen whispered against the shell of her ear. He wrapped his cape around her, shielding her small body from the cold, but also from the impropriety of it all. There she was, in merely a sheer nightgown, embracing the Prince of Nevandia before the entire privy council and the Queen of Grelta. “You should go back upstairs and rest. I’ll have food brought to your room and a bath prepared.”
Marai clutched him tighter. She didn’t want to leave his arms. She wanted to bury herself in his warmth for the rest of eternity. His affectionate chuckle reverberated through her body.
“I’ll come to you tonight. I promise.” His whispered pledge and the kiss he planted in her hair was the main reason she was able to unlatch from him.
Elmar arrived at the door, breathless. “Your Highness, there’s a group of Tacorn loyalists with weapons headed towards the city.”
