I spun and asked, “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
He leaned his head against the doorframe and let his eyes close. “I have to be.”
I set my hand on his arm. “You should take better care of yourself.”
“I usually do,” he hedged. “I will, when this is over.”
“Physicians really do make the worst patients.” I squeezed. “Wake me if you need anything.”
A soft grunt escaped him when he pushed himself upright. “I will.”
“No you won’t.” I knew males well enough to realize when I was being placated.
“You’re right.” He ran his knuckles down my cheek. “But thank you for offering.”
“Someone has to try and take care of you.” I huffed. “You can’t seem to manage it alone.”
The softening of his gaze made my stomach pitch. I couldn’t breathe when he braced his hands on my forearms, trapping me in my seat. Or when his head lowered and his lips pressed to my cheek.
“Thank you,” he said again.
“You’re welcome,” I breathed.
He withdrew slowly. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in some tea?”
“Considering how tired I am, once my head hits the pillow I won’t know the difference.”
His nod was a dismissal I should have welcomed, but when he shut the door, I almost called him back. A matter of days ago, I worried how to feed and clothe my brothers and me, how I could repair our reputations, and what I could do about the small matter of our exile from Halcidia.
Now I worried we might not survive my latest gamble with our fates.
Knowing my new fears were greater than the sum of my old ones was not comforting.
Six hours, he said. Well, I slept twelve. “You should have waked me instead of letting me sleep the day away.” By the time I joined Henri in the laboratory, all my tasks had been done for me.
Henri had tended to the third and fourth crates, plucked the next batch of petals, crushed them in oil and resumed his usual position at his regular table, hunched over three tiny glass vials and a syringe, leaving Asher to admit me. Henri was so lost in his work, he didn’t acknowledge my arrival.
Turning to the male paying attention, I asked Asher, “Why are you here?”
His gaze skittered toward the open hatch, as if he meant to step through it, so I blocked him.
“Kaleb and Tau decided to stay with Ghedi to lessen the chance of passing the plague on to you. Fynn joined Malik a few hours ago.” At my growl, he added, “Fynn wants to help out, and he’s well enough. Braden and I are swapping shifts between the stables and bastille until we’re sure those two can handle it.” He smirked. “Wouldn’t want your brothers trying to pet the pretty lady, would we?”
“Asher?” I curled my finger until he bent down. “Don’t talk about my brothers.” I threw all the force I could muster into punching him in the gut. He gasped, but he was already bent over, so it was hard to judge whether I had made my point.
I was about to expound when Henri decided that I did, in fact, exist. He straightened slowly with a rusty movement that made him wince.
“Asher’s on his way out.” Henri left neither of us any doubt he had meant it as an order.
I rolled aside and let Asher leave with a twinge of regret for my actions.
I should have led with my other fist.
“What are you up to this fine afternoon?” I pointed to his desk. “Is that the preventative?”
He chuckled as he stood. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
I watched him pocket the syringe. “Curiosity is a professional failing of mine.”
“I’ve noticed.” He walked a slow circle around me. “Yet it’s a trait I admire in you.”
I forced myself to hold still. “What are you doing?”
A scuffling sound made me think he had knelt. “Checking the chair for signs of wear.”
“Ah.” My nape prickled under his regard. “Is its condition satisfactory?”
“It appears to be holding up well,” he said from much too near my ear. “I just need to…” He jostled me while making some adjustment or other. Metal groaned and I jumped at the rapid succession of clicks that raised my seat. After many tense minutes passed, the chair stopped rocking.
I waited a heartbeat before asking, “Are you finished?”
He leaned over my shoulder, and his breath fanned my throat. “It depends.”
My pulse spiked when he toyed with the hairs at my nape. “On?” I turned my head a fraction and caught him as he stared down the front of my gown. Wicked female that I was, I arched my back in what was dangerously close to invitation. “I can see you.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I think…you might be the only one who does. See me.”
I nuzzled his cheek. “You mean you’re usually stealthier when staring down females’ shirts?”
He must have smiled. I felt the scraping of his teeth against my skin, and my sight went blurry.
“Henri.”
We jumped apart at the sound of Asher’s voice. He was braced in the doorway, panting. We had been too lost in conversation to hear the hatch open, but I felt the draft from the hall seeping in now.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” Henri sounded less flustered than I would just now. Yet when he braced on my good shoulder, his thumb caressing my pulse, his hand trembled.
“Braden said I ought to take a spare room to stay close, but I headed to my room in the stables.” Asher’s shirt was slicked to his body, and his chest pumped while he gasped for air.
“What happened?” I peered behind him, into the hall.
“The animals,” he panted. “I blamed the storm. They always get wild when the weather turns.”
Henri poured Asher a glass of water and put a hand on his shoulder. “Slow down.”
“On the way to my room, I heard this thumping sound and went to investigate. It was Noir. She was throwing a hissy, ramming her stall door with her shoulder like she was trying to bust it down. Paladin Rhys warned us, said his brother favored the mad sow. I tried calming her, nothing worked.”
“Noir is temperamental.” Henri told me, “So is Farrow for that matter. It’s in the bloodline.”
Asher nodded. “I stuffed those herbs you left us for sedating trouble boars into a slab of varanus steak and tossed it to Noir. On my way to bed, I heard the noise again, this time near the exit hatch.”
“The one we used to enter the stables?” I asked.
“There’s only one exit hatch,” he snapped.
Henri cleared his throat.
Asher scowled at me. “I mean, yes. The noise came from the same hatch I led you through.” His breathing slowed. “I figured it must be one of the guards wanting to pass a message through. After I saw what that thing did to Ghedi, I wasn’t about to open so much as the post slot to receive a letter. I climbed the ladder and used the lookout to see what I was dealing with. A male was banging his fists on the hatch. At first, he seemed all right—frantic—but if more of those things might be out there…”
Henri became very still. “Did you open the hatch?”
“No. I didn’t get the chance.” Asher’s knuckles whitened. “Another male joined the first. When I didn’t let them in, they began snarling at one another. They attacked each other. That first one—he tore out the other’s throat and fell on him in the snow.” Asher blinked his wide eyes. “I’ve seen a lot in my time, all Mimetidae have, but nothing as brutal as those two. What are they? Why are they here?”
“They’re risers—corpses,” Henri said. “As to why they’re here…”
Our eyes met in the same moment, but I was the one to say, “They’ve come for her.”
“That winged thing? The harbinger?” Asher glanced between us. “Why do they want her?”
“If a harbinger is required to sing the risers awake, and one is also required to lead them…” Henri’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling. “Then we may have a very large problem on our
hands.”
As in someone who was not our ward had awakened them and led them here.
“Where are the other guards?” I demanded of Asher.
“There were three groups of ten on patrol.” He appeared torn. “I haven’t been keeping check on them, what with all this happening below. They may have been forced to use the emergency hatches to reach the nest since all the usual routes are sealed. They may have even taken refuge in the city.”
He rocked his weight from one foot to another, eyes on the hall, sweat on his brow.
“Do you have something to add?” Henri asked.
“Paladin Rhys must be made aware if he isn’t already following the situation.”
“You mean Maven Lourdes must be informed,” Henri corrected.
“Maven Lourdes isn’t qualified to make these decisions—” Asher began.
“To speak against my sister is treason,” he said, voice frigid, “and her husband would be the one to sink his blade in your heart for daring to speak out against his wife. Don’t presume you’re in a position to judge Lourdes’s qualifications.” Henri all but snarled, “Go to bed. I will handle this.”
When Asher left in a huff, I watched the flush leave Henri’s cheeks. “Was that wise?”
“I once saw how dangerous it can be when guards develop a sense of entitlement, when they believe they have a right to dictate how our nest is run and how it is protected. I won’t make that mistake again. These males are loyal to Rhys—within reason—because Vaughn would slaughter them if they broke his word to protect our clan with their lives. What they haven’t yet accepted is that regardless of which brother gives the orders, they are all beholden to Lourdes. As much as I regret that such a heavy mantle drapes her shoulders, Lourdes is maven and she must be consulted.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. Silence was the best response I could think of to his outburst.
We all have our scars to bear. It appeared Henri’s losses were carved even deeper than mine.
“What happens now?” Organized as he was, surely he had a contingency plan.
“Now I send word to my contact that I must confer with my sister. Being isolated here, we can’t assume the nest hasn’t been monitoring the risers for days. They must be aware something is wrong, even if they don’t yet understand what.” He eyed his door. “Are you hungry? You missed breakfast.”
“No. I…” I gave his office a thoughtful look. “Huh. The note from Braden came with his meal.”
“What’s your point?”
“You’re offering me food when what you really want is new information.” That told me Henri’s informant had access to the kitchen, perhaps sole access if he controlled what messages went where.
“You’re fishing,” he said with a slow grin. “Use better bait if you hope to make a catch.”
“Before you go…” I shifted in the chair. “When you adjusted the seat, I think the back was dislocated. A piece of wood or something is jabbing me.” I rolled my shoulders. “Do you think you could take a look?”
“Of course.”
He started to go around back, but I caught his wrist. “I’ll lean forward. How about that?”
“All right.” He ducked his head and might have bent over my shoulder had I not turned my face, capturing his lips with mine. It was a startled kiss on his part, and I’m not entirely sure if he enjoyed it, but I did. His lips were firm and smooth, his involvement hesitant, and his taste indefinably Henri.
Gods it was a mistake. I knew it when our tongues met and those decadent quivers reignited.
After I withdrew, Henri lingered, his nose to my nose, staring at me in bewilderment. I laughed. “I took your advice. I used better bait.” I hooked my finger in his shirt and tugged. “Feeling caught?”
“More and more all the time.” He cupped my cheek. “The next time you kiss me—”
“The next time?” I was still reeling from the first.
“Do it because you want to.” He smoothed his thumb over my lips. “Not to make a point.”
Ridiculous as it would have been to ask if that meant he wanted me to kiss him again, or worse, he expected me to, I was tempted to risk making a greater fool of myself in the name of clarification.
Thankfully, it was one temptation I managed to resist.
“Where are we with processing the oil?” There. That sounded perfectly normal. Not at all like a female who had gotten a taste of something she had the sense to realize might prove to be addictive.
“We have two more boxes of dayflowers to strip and then six hours to wait for the next step.”
Six hours until Ghedi got the cure in him. Relief made me giddy. “I can manage that.”
“The dayflowers are kept in the second room on the right.” He pointed at the greenhouse. “Take the remaining plants with blossoms and—you know the rest. When you finish, use the strainer on the kiln to remove the old petals from the oil. Mix the fresh petals in the reduction, bruising them gently with the spoon. After that, return the pots to the heat. If it’s difficult for you to reach the rear burners, don’t risk a burn to prove me wrong. All right?” He waited for my reluctant nod. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I’ll be here.”
Grateful for the work to steady my hands, if not corral my rambling thoughts, I ventured into the greenhouse. The humid air stole my breath and gave my skin a sweaty sheen. Homesickness dizzied me. Heat and false sun made me pine for the southland summer and the green scent of drying grass.
Thanks to Henri, I would hear that brittle grass crunch beneath my feet again one day soon.
Thanks to Henri and that kiss, I almost wished that wasn’t the case.
Chapter 7
Possibly the first thing I had learned about Henri was that if his interest was engaged, hours sped past while he hunched over his project, oblivious to the passage of time or to the presence of others.
The arrival of risers at the edge of Erania was enough to engage anyone’s full attention.
Even after I finished the petal-removal detail, Henri had yet to return from his office. Of course, I chose to blame the risers and not myself for creating an awkward environment for him to return to.
After tabulating what time it must be, I rushed to strain the reduced petals from the second batch of essential oil then divided the final handfuls of fresh petals before bruising them to release the oils.
Glancing up at the sound of a latch catching, I had expected Henri but was treated to the sight of Fynn exiting the bastille. Once he spotted me, he grinned sheepishly and lumbered over to me.
After stirring the pot, I balanced the spoon on its rim. “I’m finished here if you have a minute.”
He nodded and came to stand beside me.
“How’s your head?”
Fynn turned his back on me so I could admire the neat row of stitches tracking his scalp.
Someone, likely Henri, had shaved all the hair from the crown of his head to his nape.
“Ouch. No wonder you bled so much.” I pinched his shirt to turn him back to face me. “You will hardly get a decent scar out of that cut. Your hair will cover it over when it grows in again.”
He shrugged. He had never been much of a braggart even when he had spoken.
He tapped my shoulder.
“My stitches?” I worked my shoulder in a circle, careful not to wince. “They’re still in there, but I feel as good as new. As long as I don’t do anything too strenuous, I’ll be fine. Or so Henri says.”
He frowned as he studied my leg and the chair that was a natural extension of me these days.
Fynn signed a few words before realizing I couldn’t understand them and mimed snapping a twig with his hands. I winced, remembering the sound of the bone breaking and the way my ankle had flopped and rolled instead of bearing my weight. My gut lurched. Good think I hadn’t eaten.
His foot began tapping while waiting for my report.
“The ankle is broken, but Henri says it’s healing. I’ll be stuck
in a cast for a few more weeks, but it’s not so bad with this.” I patted my armrests. “Henri made this—no, not for me—but he’s letting me use it. With it, I can be of some use to him while he works out how best to treat Ghedi.”
His lips twisted in not exactly a smile.
“What did I say?”
He fluttered his eyelashes and blew a kiss at me.
“Mock me all you want. I will do whatever it takes to save Ghedi.”
Fynn’s bushy eyebrows slanted down and almost met above his nose.
“Does that look mean you don’t approve?”
He inclined his head, studying me.
“I told Ghedi you bumped your head harder than he gave you credit for.”
A snort was his answer.
“Zuri.”
I spun at the sound of Henri’s voice.
“Is anything the matter?” He crossed the room and joined us.
“Not at all,” I rushed to assure him. “I did as you asked. We’re set for the final six hours.”
“Thank you.” He was studying Fynn. “I thought you were with Malik and Braden?”
Fynn’s next hand gesture was one even I had no trouble reading. He patted his stomach.
“I sent word to the kitchen.” Henri held my gaze. “The food should be here soon.”
A few hand signs later, Fynn conveyed his thoughts on the matter.
“I’ll relieve Malik,” Henri told him. “Don’t worry about that.”
I butted into their conversation. “What sort of relief are you offering?”
“He caught Malik dozing near enough to the cage that your ward almost snagged his shirt. They planned to wait until Asher had at least six hours of sleep in him before posting him, but Fynn doubts Malik lasts that long.” Henri’s weary grin surfaced. “I offered to stand in for Malik after I’ve eaten.”
“I appreciate the gesture,” I said, and I meant it, “but when was the last time you slept?”
“I’m needed here.” Henri leaned against a table for support. “Here is where I must stay.”
Fynn’s fingers blurred with his opinion.
Henri clasped his shoulder. “I’m fine. Zuri worries too much.”
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