I hadn’t just lost weight, I’d lost muscle mass. My legs felt like jelly and looked like tenderized meat. My reflection was no better.
Seeing myself for the first time was a shock, even though I knew it would be bad.
My hair was a matted, limp mess, slicked back from my forehead, but that looked decent compared to the rest of what was going on.
I’d been right. The left side of my face was a mess of swollen, reddish-purple hues like I had a plum shoved in the side of my mouth. The left eye was open, but it was more purple than pink, and the lid was so heavy it drooped. The right side was only marginally better, and there was a half an inch split in the center of my bottom lip.
There was a bluish band of skin around my throat.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I let my gaze drop. My shoulders and the upper part of my chest were covered in slices, as were the rises of my breasts. Aric had stopped there, moving to my stomach, but I imagined he’d planned to revisit that area.
Farther down, my flesh was a patchwork of old and new scars. Some of the fresher, redder ones would fade, but the others...
They’d be there, always. And even if they didn’t serve as a constant reminder, I would bear other scars. Deeper ones.
“Say it!”
Gasping, I jerked back from the mirror, clasping my hands over my ears. Aric’s roar was so sudden, so real, I closed my eyes. He’s not here. He’s not here. I could smell it, the roasted meat. Shudders overwhelmed me as my knees knocked together.
Nausea rolled through me, driving me to my knees. My stomach clenched, and everything I drank came back up, burning my sore throat. I stayed there, shaking as I kept telling myself that there was nothing left in me to throw up.
“Bri? You okay in there?”
Wincing, I lifted my head. “Yeah. Just…just getting in the shower.”
There was a pause. “Yell if you need me.”
“Will do,” I shouted weakly, shifting back from the toilet as damp warmth curled around me. I let my head fall back.
“I’m okay,” I whispered. “I’m going to be okay. No matter what.”
That’s what I told myself.
That’s all I could do.
Chapter 17
Showered and dressed in the soft pants and shirt Ivy had found, I was back in bed, utterly exhausted while Ivy went off in search of food.
I didn’t tell her about the puking thing because, despite the round of throwing up my guts, I was hungry.
I had no idea how I knew that when the knock at the door came, it wasn’t Ivy, but some inherent sense told me that it was Caden. A disconcerting mix of anticipation and dread surfaced in me. I wanted to see him, yet I didn’t—the latter for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because I wanted him to be here.
I wanted him to be here for me, and that was wrong. I knew that, and I still wanted it, which was one of the reasons he shouldn’t be here.
And the other reason? I knew how he was likely going to look at me. After seeing what I looked like and then throwing up my guts, I really didn’t want to face his mournful gaze.
Caden entered, and I focused on either his chest or his legs. He’d changed. Gone was the black shirt, replaced by a pale blue one, though his jeans were still dark. Maybe he’d showered, too.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, stopping just inside the doorway.
“Better.” I fiddled with the bedspread, finding a stray thread and tugging at it. “The shower really helped. Now I just need to get the million knots out of my hair.”
“Do you think you can eat something?”
My empty stomach rumbled despite my praying to the porcelain gods for a small eternity earlier. “I think so.”
“Good.” I saw his legs move back toward the doorway, and then he returned, caring a tray.
I sat up gingerly. Or at least I started to sit up, but the stiffness around my ribs protested once more.
“Here.” The King placed the tray on a small table that sat behind the couch. “Let me help.” He reached for me—
My body recoiled as it had been trained to do when hands that could become claws or fists got too close. I tried to stop it, but it was a reflex beyond my control.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Caden said.
“I know.” I closed my eyes and then opened them. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t, Brighton. Remember?” His voice was soft. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Okay?”
I drew in a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“Do you want me to help you sit up, or do you want to do it yourself?” he asked. “I’m hoping you’ll let me because I don’t want to see you in pain.”
I glanced at him and saw that all those thick, golden strands were pulled back from his face, and the whole situation struck me as funny even if I didn’t laugh.
The King of all the Summer fae was serving me soup in bed.
Weird.
“You don’t have to do this,” I told him, lifting my gaze to his face. His expression was devoid of any emotion. “You don’t owe me—”
“Did you forget that I can scent your emotions?” Caden interrupted, and Christ, I sort of had. “That I know what you’re feeling? That I knew the whole time I was in here earlier?”
“Okay. Do you want a gold sticker or something? The kind with a little smiley face on it?”
He cracked a grin. “God, how I missed your attitude.”
I frowned.
“I know you think I’m here because I feel guilt or a responsibility to you. I don’t even have to have my ‘super special fae abilities’ to know that. You said it, but I can feel it. Your distrust of my motives, and your fear that I pity you is like burnt rubber.”
My frown started to increase. “Now I really do feel like I need to apologize for offending your sensitive nostrils.”
One eyebrow cocked. “I need you to understand something, Brighton. I’m here right now because I want to be. I’m here because I need to be—let me finish,” he said when I opened my mouth. “That need is not drawn from some sense of guilt or remorse. Don’t get me wrong, I feel a whole lot of that, but it is not what drives my actions.”
“Then what does?” I challenged, feeling the prickle of irritation, which was far better than anything else I was feeling. I latched on to it, wrapping the anger around me like the fuzziest, softest blanket. “You’re engaged, Caden. Something you failed to tell me before you fucked me, both literally and figuratively.”
“I did not fuck you. Not literally. You did not fuck me.”
“Oh, okay. What then? We made love?” I coughed out a harsh laugh. “Pretty sure you don’t make love when you’re going to marry someone else.”
Caden’s jaw hardened. “This is not the time to talk about this.”
“Damn right,” I snapped, pushing myself upright because arguing while lying prone in a bed really made me feel like I was at a disadvantage. It cost me, though. The flare of pain told me it was time to investigate that pill bottle that had been sitting on the nightstand after I’d stepped out of the shower. “There’s no point talking about any of this at all.”
“Oh, there’s a whole lot of points for why we need to talk about this.” Making a sound under his breath, he stepped forward and then halted. “Can I help you?”
“No.” I moved again, gasping. I slumped back, my heart pounding from the exertion of sitting up and failing.
Caden crossed his arms. “Do you not want me to help because you don’t want to be touched or because you’re angry with me.”
Both, but mostly the angry part at this point. I was being ridiculous. To eat, I needed to sit up. And I needed to eat because I was hungry, and I needed to get my strength back. “Fine. Whatever. You can help me.”
“You sure?”
I shot him a dark look that promised murder.
He smiled at me, and it was a real one. The kind that softened the beauty of his face and brought fire to his amber eyes.
My breath caught
.
I hated myself.
Caden chuckled under his breath, but then he moved toward me. I braced myself, but when Caden carefully slid an arm under my shoulders, I didn’t freak, so bonus points there. He lifted me up, helping me lean against the fluffed pillows.
“Thank you,” I muttered, about as gracious as a spoiled child.
“You’re very welcome.”
Caden backed off, retrieving the food. “Luce wanted you to start with something light.” He placed it down, and with its little, sturdy legs, the tray was the perfect height. “It’s chicken soup with rice mixed in, and Luce said if you tolerate this well, we can move onto something more substantial.”
Staring down at the bowl, I realized there was cutlery. God, when was the last time I’d even used silverware? I could almost see the stewed beef staining the tips of my fingers. I started to reach for the spoon but stopped when I became aware of my arm shaking. Tremors coursed throughout my entire body.
I stared at the bowl, unable to move for several moments. The fear was irrational. I knew I could eat with no problem, but the emotion was so potent it choked me.
Heat crawled up my neck, and I looked over at Caden, expecting to see him watching me, expression haunted.
He wasn’t.
Caden wasn’t watching me at all. Instead, he was over at the small table, pouring a glass of the berry water.
Sweet relief swept through me. He wasn’t anywhere near me, and while I suspected that he’d done that on purpose, I didn’t care. The tremors lessened, and when I finally picked up the spoon, it wasn’t like I’d forgotten it.
A little of the broth spilled as I lifted the utensil, but at the first taste, I closed my eyes. It didn’t hurt, and it was so good.
I ate.
Caden stayed back, silent as he turned on the TV. I had no idea what he was watching because he had the volume turned down low, but he appeared engrossed in it.
At least that was what I thought until I placed the spoon in the empty bowl, and he turned immediately. “Thirsty?”
Belly warm and full, I nodded.
Walking over to me, Caden set the drink on the nightstand, within my reach. “I’m going to grab the tray,” he announced, doing just that. Placing it on the table, he then returned to sit in the chair that was next to the bed.
I stared at him for several moments and then picked up my glass, taking a sip. “So…” I drew the word out.
“Yes?”
“Are you just going to sit there?”
“Yes.”
I looked at him. “Why?”
Caden leaned back, hooking one leg over the other. He looked completely at ease. “Because I want to.”
“What if I don’t want you here?”
“Then I’ll leave.”
I stared at him pointedly.
A grin appeared. “But you don’t want that.”
I started to ask why he thought that, but it was true. Only because I didn’t want to be alone. I’d spent enough time in that crypt by myself.
That’s what I told myself.
But also, I was…afraid to go to sleep. Part of it was the nightmares I was sure would find me, but a lot of it had to do with my mother. Things were always the hardest for her in the mornings, especially when she had her spells where she had no idea where she was, or when she believed she was still trapped with those fae.
What if that happened to me?
Shoving those fears aside wasn’t exactly easy. “Aren’t you tired?” I asked, wanting to distract myself.
He shook his head. “I feel more awake than I have in centuries.”
“Well…” I placed the glass back on the nightstand. “You were under a dark spell for a lot of it, so…”
“True.” Humor danced in his eyes, which was something I’d never thought to see when time under the Queen’s spell was referenced. “Is there anything I can get you?”
I thought about that. “A comb? I think there’s one in the bathroom.”
Caden rose, retrieving the comb. Instead of handing it over, he did what he’d done with the glass, placing it on the nightstand.
Murmuring my thanks, I picked it up, but the moment I attempted to lift my arm to my head, I knew it wasn’t going to work.
I sighed. “Who would’ve thought that broken ribs would be such a pain.”
“Anyone who has had broken ribs,” he replied.
“Have you?”
“More times than I can count.”
“Really?” Disbelief filled me as I thought about what Tink had said and also…something that Aric had said about Caden, giving the impression that the King had been a bit of a playboy in his day. Actually, Tink had said the same thing once.
“Would you like me to help?” Caden asked, and my gaze shot to his. “I’m actually quite accomplished at combing the knots out of ornery females.”
“I have so many questions, starting with how in the world you have that experience.”
A faint, wistful smile appeared. “Fabian and I had a younger sister.”
“Oh.” Had being the keyword. “I…I didn’t know that.” I dragged my thumb along the teeth of the comb. “Maybe I’ll just cut it all off and start over.”
“Let me help you instead?” he offered. “It won’t take very long at all, and then I’ll leave you be.”
I looked at the comb and then at him. “You promise?”
“Promise,” he murmured.
I had a feeling he was lying, but there was no way I could comb the knots out, and waiting until Ivy returned was just going to make them worse. A little embarrassed and a whole lot unsure, I handed over the comb.
He took it so quickly that I didn’t even see him move. “I’m going to move behind you, but I’m going to hold you up so it doesn’t jar your ribs.”
I nodded, and then Caden did just as he said, somehow rearranging me and the pillows so that he was behind me, one long leg hanging off the bed, and I…I was sitting between his thighs, leaning onto one of the pillows, holding it close to my chest.
This was so inappropriate.
But I didn’t say anything as Caden began to separate my hair into three sections. He didn’t note the tremors that had picked back up in my body.
“My sister was the baby of the family,” he said, beginning to work at the knots in the center section. “She was born two hundred years after Fabian and I were.”
Goodness.
It was easy to forget how old Caden and his brother were.
“Scorcha was…she was the kindest and most beautiful soul,” he said, gently tugging at the rat’s nest that was my hair. “Far better than Fabian or I could’ve ever hoped to be, except when it came to getting the knots out of her hair. You see, she had long, thick hair, and was constantly running about after Fabian and me. It was a constant battle between our mother and her to get her to sit still long enough, but she always did it for me. No matter what.”
I hugged the pillow. “Sounds like she wanted your attention.”
“She did. She wanted both Fabian’s and my attention, but we’d just gone through puberty, and well, we were concerned with other things,” he said. “Funny how you think you’ll learn from the knowledge that time can be fleeting, even for our kind, and come to realize that as fickle as time is, it also makes you forget.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. “What happened to her?”
He was quiet, and a part of me wished I hadn’t asked. “We do not suffer from many illnesses, but there are a few that are similar to cancer or…heart failure. Some of the older fae believe that these sicknesses are curses, while others believe there are genetic reasons. Either way, Scorcha came down with what was called The Long Sleep. It’s a…wasting disease. Appetite and stamina are lost, and eventually, one slips into a sleep they don’t wake from. She was only ten years old, very young, even by human standards.”
“That is so young. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Finished with the center section,
Caden moved on to the right. “You asked how I got broken ribs. I was a Prince, but I was always a warrior first. Before the big war, there were skirmishes, and I often found myself embroiled in a tavern fight—or five.”
“That I can easily see.”
“What? The tavern fighting?”
My lips twitched. “Well, yeah, but also the warrior part. I didn’t think you just lay around all day and….” Something prodded at my memories, but I couldn’t reach it. My eyes had drifted shut. There was something incredibly relaxing about having your hair brushed.
“I could be lazy and indulgent, but I always did my duty,” he said after a few moments. “My parents used to think that was one of my admirable traits. However, I have come to realize that it’s a flaw.”
“How so?”
“Duty should never supersede what is right,” he said. “No matter the cost.”
Before, I would’ve argued that duty always came first. It was everything to those raised in the Order, but that was before learning what Ivy was, before meeting the Summer fae and learning that not all of them were evil creatures hellbent on destruction. That was before meeting and…and falling for Caden.
Now I knew that duty often dictated things that were not right. Duty was too black and white, with little to no gray area.
Caden fell quiet as he worked at my hair, moving on to the left side. Not only was this incredibly soothing, it was also…kind and so sweet. And if I believed him, believed what he’d said about why he was here, then why was he—?
I cut those thoughts off. There was no reason for me to go down that road. A knot lodged in my throat anyway.
His hand stilled. “What are you thinking, sunshine?”
“Don’t call me that.” My voice rasped.
“Why wouldn’t I?” The comb started moving again.
Why? I almost laughed, except nothing about this was funny, and considering that he was pledged to another, the nickname was cruel in a way.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered, blinking back tears.
“There is nothing wrong with what I’m doing. You need help, and I am here, where I am supposed to be.”
“But—”
The King: A Wicked Novella Page 17