A man with a face as perfect as a statue, gray eyes meeting mine.
“Wake up, Ana,”he says.
I frown. What does he mean?
“You don’t have to be here.”
The edge of my fear dulls. The man is right.
Just like that, the crowd vanishes, then the cleric, and finally the dais, until I’m left in darkness. Voices drift to me from far away.
“I’ve calmed her mind, but she won’t wake up fully. The fever is too strong.”
“Don’t you think we should give her the potion? What if she’s dying?”
“No, not yet. She can fight this.”
“Leon…”
“She’snotdying, Alastor. I won’t allow it.”
I’m vaguely aware of motion beneath me and cool air on my face. Then the bracing wind is gone, replaced by a wonderful warmth, and all is still and calm.
Maybe this is what it feels like to pass out of life and into the eternal realm. I wonder if I’ll meet my parents there.
But I can’t be dying. That voice said I wasn’t, and for reasons I can’t name, I trust it.
I do the only thing I can think of and let the warmth drag me deeper into the darkness.
Chapter13
Morgana
Idrag my eyes open, and for a moment I think I’m back in Otscold, tucked up in a room at the Fox and Deer. The noise of happy customers drifts up from the pub below, mingling with clinking tankards and footsteps across the inn’s rush-strewn floors.
The bed I’m in is warm and soft, and if I concentrate, I can almost imagine Tira knocking at the door, coming in to offer me a hot drink with a side of playful teasing about being a lazy sluggard for sleeping in so late.
“Finally.”
The voice isn’t Tira’s. I sit up and lock eyes with Leon, who’s sitting across the room from me. He’s taken his cloak off, and his booted feet are perched casually on a stool. His sword is no longer attached to his belt, but still within reaching distance on the table beside him, and his shirt is half undone. The fabric parts to reveal a sliver of his chest, all taut muscle wrapped in tan skin.
“Where are we?” I ask, my voice coming out in a croak. We’re certainly not in the woods that form my last memory. Not that I’m complaining about being under an actual roof, especially when I look over and see a jug of water beside me. I pour myself a glass and gulp it down.
“We figured you might need some quality rest if you were going to survive the withdrawal.”
Leon watches me as I drink, and I drop my gaze, suddenly self-conscious. My eyes land on my lap, where I see I’m not wearing the dress from the market but a fresh nightgown. I set my glass down with a clatter.
“Did youundressme?” I demand.
“Such gratitude.” He uncrosses his legs, setting his feet on the floor. “What about a thank you for making sure you didn’t die? For risking getting caught so you could wean yourself off your personal poison here?” He pulls the vial from his pocket and waves it at me, displaying the few red drops still sitting at the bottom.
His tone is surprisingly harsh. He’s irritated, though I doubt it’s about my survival. I’m fairly sure by this point that the fae prince doesn’t want me dead—yet.
“Thanks so much,” I say. “Especially the part where you violated me while I was unconscious.”
I narrow my eyes at him, searching for the flicker of guilt. Instead, his expression turns stormy.
“The nightdress belongs to the innkeeper’s wife.Shedressed you.”
