“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.”

Ruenen sighed, then raised Marai to her feet. He resumed his earlier princely stance, but his eyes danced with affection. He didn’t look away from her, not even as he addressed Raife. “Please escort Lady Marai to her chambers, and return once she’s settled. I need your immediate assistance with these loyalists.”

“I can help,” Marai said.

“You can barely stand,” said Raife.

“But what if—”

Raife led Marai from the room, the chill once again taking hold, her arms empty without Ruenen. She couldn’t make it back up the stairs, so Raife’s arm slid under her legs and lifted her off the floor. He carried her all the way up, and back to her room.

Strength abandoned her by the time she made it to the bed. Marai flopped into the sheets. Thora pulled the blankets up to Marai’s chin, then stroked a strand of wild hair out of Marai’s face.

“Sleep, Storm Cloud. I’ll wake you if there’s any trouble.”

Marai was about to protest, but Thora’s healing cobalt magic seeped into her pores, and sleep pulled Marai under.

Chapter 38

Marai

Harmona drew Marai a bath. The young maid avoided her gaze, staring modestly at the floor, bobbing up and down in frenetic curtsies. Harmona had sprinkled orange peels and flower petals in the water, along with lavender oil. It was deliciously fragrant and warm, and the water soothed the aches and pains in Marai’s rundown body. No bath had ever felt better. She soaked until her fingers and toes shriveled like dried apricots.

For the first time in many years, Marai felt optimistic. Hopeful. Anticipation tickled her skin and throbbed in her veins. There was a life worth living here. Maybe Marai could become someone different, too.

A soft rap sounded at the door. Harmona scuttled over and pulled it open, revealing Keshel. Marai had barely given him a second glance earlier in the Witan chamber, but now she could clearly see the scratches and bruises across his face from the battle; an indigo shadow encircled one eye. His long hair was draped in such a way to hide it.

Keshel noticed her gaze flicker from injury to injury. “These are but small wounds. Thora needs to be helping others.”

He looked her over then, and Marai knew he was observing the prominence of her bone structure, the hollowness of her face, after days of not eating. Her body still craved food, but Thora had warned that Marai needed to eat slowly and in small amounts for a while.

“You look well,” he said. “When you didn’t wake, I thought I’d—we’d—lost you.” A pink tinge came to his cheeks. He then produced a smooth wooden cane from behind his back. “Do you want to take a walk with me?”

Marai grimaced at the stick, but knew she’d never make it on her own two feet with legs as unsteady as a newborn foal. She snatched the cane from Keshel’s grasp and hobbled into the hallway.

“I heard you’ve been hard at work,” she said after several minutes of silence. “And that you’ve been wandering off alone for hours.”

They’d made it down the main stairs and into the garden. It was awash with color and beauty, so opposite of what the garden had been before. Marai breathed heavily as her pace slowed, taking in the strong floral scent of gardenias. She stumbled to a bench underneath a blooming trellis of vines and wisteria.

Keshel gazed around the garden, staring at everything but her. “The wandering is . . . sometimes, I need some space to think, is all.”

He was being cagey. What is he hiding? Had he had another vision?

“And I’m busy because I must do my part while I’m here, so that when I leave, you’re protected.” Keshel’s fingers stroked the soft petal of a pink rose bush next to him, perhaps reminding him of Kadiatu. Marai couldn’t help but see her face in every bloom and bud.

“Why must you leave at all?” she asked. “You’re needed here. Respected. Why leave somewhere you can finally call home?”

Keshel’s eyes slid to hers. “I cannot call Nevandia home, Marai, not until I see more of this world, and learn what I can.”

Marai’s anger flared. “What else do you need to learn, Keshel? There are hundreds of books in the library here. It’ll take you months to get through them all. And you’ve created a sanctuary for magical folk, and convinced another kingdom to open their hearts and minds. Stay, and continue to lead this growth.”

“Are you asking because you want me to stay? Or because Ruenen and Nevandia need me?”

The question caught Marai off guard as Keshel’s dark eyes searched hers.

“Of course I want you to stay. You’re my family, one of the few people I trust. I don’t want you to leave.”

Keshel’s face hardened briefly. That wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, but he’d already known, or he wouldn’t have asked.

“I’ve had recent visions. Dark magic isn’t gone. This land may be free of it, but elsewhere in the world, others are using its power. The shadow creatures Rayghast created survive. Darkness will keep spreading, but we cannot stop it if we don’t know how. Something is coming. A war is brewing between light and dark. How can we prevent someone else from tapping into that power again?”