“Your friend is well cared for with Cael in another room while you heal. My brother has already spoken to Cael at great length.”
Rori followed the airy voice toward the far edge of the room. The woman with lavender eyes had emerged from an arched doorway, folded towels tucked to her chest. Roriblinked away the last of her sleepy haze and pushed herself upright, refusing to let the woman out of her sight. She’d been the one who put her to sleep. How long she’d been out, she had no idea.
With the fog clearing from her mind, an ache spread within her chest.
What had happened to Thaddeus?
The exotically beautiful woman placed the towels on a round table beside a loveseat. A gentle grin curled her full lips and painted her with such warmth and acceptance it was nearly impossible for Rori to hold onto the sliver of animosity she’d held toward the woman for knocking her unconscious, although a tinge of wariness remained.
“My name is Rihanna.”
Her voice held a lilt like that of a sweet songbird, her movements graceful and effortless as she came closer. Rori took a few short seconds to commit the woman to memory, from the tapered points of her diamond-studded ears to the similarities she held to the dark Fae who threatened Thaddeus.
“Your…brother. The one who appeared on the stairs.”
A strange swirl of panic began to coil in her gut, yet she had no basis for the unease. It was at this moment she realized just how much about Thaddeus she trulydidn’tknow. His past. His secrets. Him.
Rihanna nodded once, coming to pause a few feet away. She motioned toward the archway leading to a deep balcony. Rori hesitated, but followed her gesture. A glass coffee table held a spread of food and two carafes of colored liquid. A small sofa and two cushioned chairs surrounded the table.
“You’ve been healing for a full day, Rori. Your body needs nourishment. I’ll be more than willing to answer the questions you have to the best of my knowledge, but youshould eat first.” Rihanna took another step closer and held out her hand. That ever-warm smile grew. “Come. When we’re through, I’ll take you to your friend.”
“She’s okay? She didn’t know anything about”—Rori motioned to her ears—“any of this.”
A gentle laugh left Rihanna, and damn if the sound didn’t soothe her ruffled insides. “Aye, she’s very well. Cael had much explaining to do, but I believe she’s since forgiven him for the secrets he withheld.”
Rori scooted to the edge of the bed and took Rihanna’s hand as she climbed to her feet. Her legs wobbled and her head spun, but the sensation dissipated as quickly as it came, although her bladder made its needs known. She gave her head a shake and looked up at the woman, who stood a good six inches over her. “I need to use the restroom.”
Rihanna motioned to the archway she had emerged from when Rori woke. “Everything you need should be in there. I’ll wait here for when you’re through.”
Rori crossed to the bathroom, and took in the strange, yet serene, space. A sink and countertop appeared to grow out of the stone wall, its angles fluid and natural to the rest of the room. It curved in and out, held small alcoves that had been fitted with sparse shelves and hooks. A trickle of water from an unseen source spilled down the craggy wall into a stone-encased pool about the size of a hot tub. Delicate vines creeped across the stone, multihued blossoms dotting the dark brown rock.
The room smelled so fresh, with a similar sweet tinge as the bedroom.
Rori located the toilet—surprisingly, an actual toilet—around one of the curves and tended to her screaming bladder. When she was through, she made use of the toiletries that had been neatly laid out on the polished countertop to brush herteeth and wash her face. There was no taming her wild mane, her hairband having been removed and her waves a fiery storm around her head. She tried her best to run her fingers through the day-old knots and fashioned it into some semblance of a loose braid, tying the end with a thin strip of leather. A bit more satisfied with her neatened appearance, she twisted her back to the mirror and lifted the top of the green silk pajama shirt—she dared not ask how she had been changed, or who did the changing, opting to believe a wiggle of fingers and a magic spell did the job—only to find a smooth patch of unmarred skin where some evidence of a stab wound should have been. Nothing, not even a hint of red, a scar, a residual ache, but the memory of the body-gripping agony as the blade pierced her skin remained.
What a wonder, to be able to heal such wounds.
Returning to the bedroom, she found Rihanna waiting patiently beside the loveseat. Her smile lit up as Rori approached, accepting Rihanna’s hand.
“A full day I’ve been out?”
“Nearly, aye. You sustained great injury to your organs that needed extensive healing.” She tucked Rori’s arm around hers—mimicking the linking of arms she and Cassy often did—and led them to the balcony. “Cael mentioned you’d been stabbed trying to protect Thaddeus.”
Rori had been too concerned about Thaddeus with his lethal injuries to worry about her own safety. All she recalled was seeing the Fae lunge for him and she stepped in front of the short sword, saving him from another debilitating hit.
If she had only realized that by her taking the blade, he’d lose his shit and wipe out the entire room with one fell swoop of magic, placing him on the fast path to death, she might have reconsidered.
Then again, she never thought he’d care enough…
That damn ache turned into a throbbing pain for a few breaths, bringing her to pause to try and catch her breath and see through the blurred edges of her vision before the pain faded to a constant ache.
“Thaddeus, he’s youranamcara, aye?”
Rori glanced up at the woman, whose gaze lingered at her chest. She hadn’t realized she held a fist to the invisible ache, and lowered her arm to her side. A lick of familiar warmth touched her face as she looked away, gently unhooking her arm from Rihanna’s and rounding the sofa. The confliction of feelings for Thaddeus continued to play a vicious tug-of-war with her heart and mind, but in the end, after each round, one thing always came out victorious: the damn Faery man may infuriate her, she may know so little about him, but only with him did she feel safe and whole.
Now she feared he’d rip a hole in the fabric of her psyche and leave her shattered with no hope of healing. An unseen, unknown, instinctive whisper warned her to stay diligent and strong.
“You needn’t answer me. I’m but a stranger to you in a foreign world. I understand your reluctance, but one can’t hide the effects of being fated to another. The devastation in your expression when he fell was proof enough.”
