by E. A. James
She blinked at the ground for a few seconds. “What?”
“I…I don’t think I said that right.”
She turned to him, her confusion distracting her from her aches. “What are you trying to say exactly?”
Gargans couldn’t really blush—their blood wasn’t even red, much less a color that could seep through stone. The way Adrik winced, his eyes flicking over anything but her; she could’ve sworn that his cheeks turned a different shade of gray.
She chuckled at her sudden realization. “You’re trying to cheer me up, aren’t you?” She laughed a little harder and rubbed the back of her neck. “You’re not very good at it, I’m sorry to say.”
He scowled.
“But I appreciate it,” she added more gently. Her smile remained, even as her laughter died away. “Sincerely, Adrik, that you would try to make this not feel so…humiliating…” Her lips did quiver a bit then. “Thank you.”
He breathed deeply, his fingers twitching at his side. He opened his mouth, only to close it again and shake his head.
“What?” she asked. “What is it?”
He bit his lip, the brief sound grinding. “I simply…” He shook his head again and walked up to her, his fingers reaching for her hand and then hesitating. “I—”
A set of guards made their way past them on patrol of the halls.
Adrik stiffened before he slowly turned his head toward the guard, and then toward the other guard, and then toward yet another guard. The Gargan rubbed his jaw and stepped away.
Leonie sputtered out a sound of protest to his departure before she could even think to do so.
Adrik, not glancing back, said “Goodnight Leonie” as he entered his room.
“Goodnight,” she whispered to his closing door, her hand tingling. She grabbed it and massaged her palm—soothing away some sense of disappointment.
She stared at the ceiling for hours from where she laid, her eyes adjusted to the dark. The silk covers felt light on top of her body yet somehow kept her warm. She tapped her stomach with her index finger and licked her lips.
Mathsus, Adrik—that devastating moment where she looked foolish—it captivated her mind and rushed through her veins, making her cringe. She didn’t understand…
Had Adrik moved to hold her hand? And what had he meant to say?
Why had Mathsus abandoned her? Why not show himself to Sallimor’s royals?
Leonie’s fingers curled, nails digging into the silk blanket. Though her eyes stung with exhaustion, closing them felt impossible. She blinked hard, only to have her eyes snap back open. She released a long, haggard sigh.
Shadows—darker than dark—danced around the door and drifted away.
Leonie thought nothing of it, familiar with a tired mind’s tricks. She stretched and yawned. When she closed her eyes again, she managed to keep them close for several seconds.
The bed dipped, creaking.
Her eyes sprung open and she instinctively rolled off the bed as two daggers burst through the mattress where she had been.
Leonie scrambled to her feet and raised her fists, heart hammering and lungs tightening.
The dark figure upon her bed raised the daggers again. The metal gleamed, despite the darkness, making them the only things that Leonie could truly see—save for the attacker’s outline.
Yell, something within her demanded, but she froze in a rigid stance as her blood went cold.
The attacker leaped at her— a dagger slicing Leonie’s side as she rolled away yet again. Pain flared where blood instantly soaked her shirt, but the cry of anguish was lodged in her throat. She rushed for the door and choked out a scratchy “Help!”
The assailant sliced again at the back of Leonie’s cloak.
Leonie screamed and leaped to the ground—sliding over it and spinning around to kick the attacker’s knee.
The attacker stumbled.
Leonie screamed and kicked again.
The guards burst through the door and swung their spears toward the attacker, who rolled away and threw one of his daggers into the first guard’s chest.
The guard cried out and fell back, clutching at the dagger’s hilt.
More guards poured into the room and descended upon her attacker, their spears too precise for a man with one dagger to counter.
Leonie blanched as her assailant gasped, wobbled, and then collapsed from the assault. Her breath hitched, mind reeling and heart burning. But the rest of her blood felt icy, numbing flesh. It took her several seconds to recognize the agony throbbing at her side, and she gasped and snapped her hands to the wound.
The lower half of her shirt was soaked in dark red.
She trembled violently and patted the wound, flaring each her fingers crossed over it. Clenching her teeth, she swallowed back a cry as she shoved her palms against the gash.
Sounds softened, the dark setting growing darker in the corners of her visions. Her eyelids fluttered.
“Leonie!”
She jumped—cringing as fire seared into her side.
Adrik fell to his knees beside her, his large hands hovering over like he didn’t know where to place them. His face was ashen, eyes bulging.
“Adrik,” she croaked, trying to smile—trying to be reassuring—but cringing with pain.
“I need a healer!” Adrik roared. “Now! Get me a healer!”
Guards scurried to him. “She’s downstairs, near the courtyard!”
Adrik growled something.
Leonie loosened the tension in her muscles, head falling to the tiled floor. She kept pushing on her wound, but fatigue was—
She yelped as she flew upward—no, not flew, was carried. She blinked owlishly at Adrik’s shoulder, her body cradled in his arm. He wasted no time running out of the room—bobbing her unintentionally, and dizzying her further.
“Adrik,” she whispered, but even she couldn’t hear herself. She once again tried to go limp, to rest, only to have the Gargan’s hard shoulder smack her head. She stiffened and clenched her teeth.
“Sorry,” he said, even as he curled himself a little more around her.
His shoulder hit her temple.
She choked on a complaint, tilting her head away and closing her eyes. And for a few seconds, the solid feel of his rocky arms around her comforted her—fought against her earlier stress, her muscles loosening.
“Thanks,” she tried to say, but her lips refused to form the word in the correct away. Instead, she just murmured some gibberish of appreciation before consciousness slipped from her mental grasp.
The last thing she heard was Adrik saying her name.
CHAPTER NINE
Muffled words disrupted her rest once in a while, often followed by a rush of pain that her face instantly cringed from. Had she the energy to even try to ignore such fiery discomforts, she would’ve done so. More than that, she would’ve begged for the world to stop shuffling her about—she would’ve begged for silence and stillness.
She went numb for a few seconds, mind blank and sound static.
And then sensation—no longer so agonizing in nature—coursed through her, and she sucked in a breath.
“She’s going to be fine,” a woman said, voice smoky and aged. “There’s no need to fret.”
“She was nearly murdered,” Adrik snapped from her other side.
Heavy breathing and crooked footsteps rumbled in the distance. “How wretched,” King Gier choked out. “This is—this is unacceptable! A guest in my home, under my protection—” He whispered something before saying, “How did this happen? Explain yourselves.”
Leonie opened her eyes as the some of the guards spoke to their king. She raised her hand and swiped outward, her gaze aimed at the ceiling and unable to move elsewhere for a time. She blinked hard against the darkness, and it took her vision several seconds to register the soft glows of orange emanating somewhere behind her head.
Her hand patted against a cool, gritty surface before a large hand encased her own. “Leon
ie,” Adrik whispered his grip on her soft—practically limp. “How do you feel?”
She squeezed his rocky fingers and croaked, “Tired. Sore. But I’m okay.” She blinked hard again, details amidst the dark ceiling growing sharper. She turned her head and her eyes landed on Adrik, his face contorted with worry. Affection bloomed in her chest. “Really, Adrik, I’m fine.”
His face didn’t relax any.
Somewhere else in the room, the guards continued to speak with the King. Something about orders, confusion—
“She’s awake!” King Gier cried. “Thank the gods!” He popped up right in front of her face, his beard tickling her nose before he held it back with both hands. “Young Duchess, I plead for your forgiveness for this horrible event that took place. Rest assured, we will find the culprit who hired that assassin immediately!”
“It’s okay,” she rasped. She cleared her throat. “The important thing is that I’m alive. And this should help convincing people that something dangerous is upon the Kingdom of Sallimor.”
Adrik squeezed her hand a little too tightly before loosening his grip again.
The king nodded, stroking his beard and leaning back on his haunches. “Yes…yes, this should be a cautionary tale for those who doubt the words of Mathsus! I must speak with my daughter about this matter.”
Another face came into view, more wrinkled than the previous one, her tied-up hair a brighter white than Gier’s. “I’ve made the bleeding cease,” the elderly healer said, smoky voice and all, “but the innards are still fragile. Keep yourself still for the next couple of days.”
Leonie shook her head. “The assassin—”
“Is certainly dead, and not going anywhere. I’ll study his body for clues, along with some anatomy scholars.” The old Healer patted Leonie’s shoulder. “Rest, child. Don’t undo my good work.”
Leonie closed her eyes, a breath puffing past her lips before she nodded her consent.
“Good,” the Healer said. “If that is all, then I must go and attend to a corpse.” She shuffled away.
Noises filtered all around Leonie—voices of a few guards who had remained, footsteps, the walls groaning—but it felt like silence had descended upon her as Adrik continued to hold her hand. He said nothing to her, nor to anyone else.
Leonie opened her eyes and looked at him again. “Adrik, I’m alright. Truly.”
He stared at her hand—a tiny thing compared to his own. He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “You almost weren’t.” His jaw ticked a little, his eyes going blank before a glassy look came over them.
Her heart sank. “Look at me, Adrik.” When he ignored her, she tugged his hand.
Sighing, he shifted his glazed eyes to her.
“I’m okay,” she said, a little louder than before. “It’s all okay—”
A door creaked open.
Adrik shot up to his feet and sneered at whoever was at the door. He clutched Leonie’s hand tight, her fingers tangled in a painful way. And then two seconds later, he relaxed, though his eyes stayed narrowed.
“Apologies,” King Gier said. “I didn’t mean to disturb, I simply wished to retrieve my gown. I cannot see my daughter looking like this!” He walked over somewhere, grabbed his gown—and then he walked back to the door. “Rest assured, we have doubled the guard.”
“How fortunate,” Adrik growled.
King Gier hobbled out of the room, the door creaking close behind him.
A couple of the guards whispered together.
Adrik released a long breath.
Frowning, Leonie tried to sit up—Adrik couldn’t be allowed to stay so stressed—but a sharp pain shot up her side, and she jolted into a frozen position of discomfort.
Adrik gently pushed her back down, her hand still in his. “What are you doing? The Healer said to rest. Why must you be so defiant all the time?” If the words had been meant to sound reprimanding, the effect was ruined by the crack in his voice.
“Not all the time,” she gritted out, forcing herself to smile at him. “Only when it involves things that are important.”
His brow rose, his face stiffening further. Though, despite his obvious attempt to appear stoic, his eyes gave him away—always gave him away. They shone too brightly as they focused in on her own eyes.
The intensity of his stare made her blush, guilt quick to follow the pleasant feeling. Getting such attention was nice, but Adrik clearly wasn’t in a good place. Now wasn’t the time to be reveling in his affection—if he truly had any for her.
She glanced at their hands, still entwined. His thumb had gone still over her knuckles, so she moved her own thumb up the side of his hand. “What can I do to help you?”
He scoffed, bowing his head. “You attract trouble. I should hardly be this surprised.”
Her gut rolled at that. There was truth in the jest, after all. “Maybe you should go on to the Kingdom of Maylorn. You can warn the royals there—or maybe just your family, at least.” Get him away from her, and he wouldn’t need to deal with all of this. She fought against a cringe and kept staring at his hand on hers. The pressure, the texture—it was all so…nice.
He smirked, though the playfulness of the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. “And leave you to your troubles? That seems unwise.”
“They’re my troubles, though, and you—it makes sense to go to Maylorn, does it not?”
“Leonie,” he whispered, “I won’t leave you.”
Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes watering.
“Besides,” he said, glancing away, “Maylorn’s no doubt heard of the Mad Duchess’s proclamations by now. There’s not really a need for anyone to rush over there.”
Emotions swelled in her torso and seared through her veins. She could barely breathe past it all, her skin tingling and her heart pounding hard. She gazed at Adrik, a brave and dedicated soul—even if he was on the irritable side—and she felt herself longing for him.
Adrik’s brow lowered. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
She swallowed, a shaky sigh escaping her. “I just…I care for you. And it makes me—it makes it hard to think.” Her lips twitched upward. “I never imagined I could feel so…in so short a time? You hear about all those tales of warriors and princesses, but you never really think it’d be like that.”
His eyes widened a little, shoulders rising. For a few seconds, he remained frozen in some kind of state of shock, or perhaps, in a state of horror.
Leonie went cold, dread sinking from her throat to her belly. She kept staring at him—kept hoping she was reading him wrong—and he kept gaping at her in return.
Eventually, she forced herself to close her eyes and laugh. “I must be so tired, saying such gibberish to you. I’ll make more sense after I rest. Like the Healer said.”
“Yes,” Adrik choked out. “That would be best.”
Her lips quivered, a sob pressing against her throat. She gulped it down and turned away, her cheek pressing against a flat pillow.
A moment later, Adrik released her hand.
CHAPTER TEN
The remnants of a nightmare tensed her back as Leonie opened her eyes, dawn’s sunlight seeping through the curtains of the Healer’s room. The Healer snored in her large bed at the end of the room, Adrik snoozing in a small bed next to Leonie’s. Guards were still in the room, though they looked different from the guards Leonie had seen hours ago.
She rubbed her sore eyes and stretched, gasping as a dulled pain bloomed in her side. She patted the bandages absently—still dry, no torn stitches and no disrupted magic.
Assassin, her mind reminded her.
Adrik’s rejection.
Leonie closed her eyes as sorrow spiked up her chest. Inhaling sharply, she pushed herself into a sitting position—swaying a bit.
The guards said nothing. Good.
She clasped her hands together and bowed her head. “Mathsus,” she whispered, “I was almost killed doing your will. Please make sense of this to me. How can I h
elp if I don’t understand how?”
She was met with silence.
Her nostrils flared. “Very well.” She pulled her hands apart and pushed herself off her little bed, grinding her teeth together as pain pulsated through her torso. “I still have faith,” she breathed, “but if I must do this alone, so be it.” She limped over to the window and pushed the curtains aside.
Even these windows were fastened shut. So her intruder must have come through her bedroom door—the only way to enter the room. That meant that either the guards hadn’t been there, or the guards had let her attacker inside.
