Healing his wounds.
His body curling around mine.
Instinctively, I run my hand across the bed behind me. Much to my disappointment, the sheets are cold and empty. Alexus and I only slept when he was here, too exhausted to even talk, much less anything else. I find myself regretting that I didn’t find the energy for something more before reality rushed to greet us.
I lost the Northland king and the God Knife to the enemy, Vexx fled the wood unscathed, and the Prince of the East and Neri are free. Matters could be worse. I have to keep reminding myself of that fact.
The fight isn’t over.
Though I’m achy, I toss aside the coverlet and get up. Deep, silvery moonlight floods the room through a massive arched window. I hadn’t been clear-headed enough to take it all in before. This must be a former library-turned-guest chambers. There are books everywhere. Tall bookcases have been built into every wall, spanning from slate floor to coffered ceiling, each shelf crammed to its fullest.
Being from the vale, the closest thing I’ve seen to a library was Mena’s stash of books she brought from Penrith years ago, volumes collected from her trips to the coast when she was young. She owned twelve books—a trove. My parents kept a shelf of six works that I read a thousand times. I’ve certainly never seen any number of books like this.
I could live here.
An ornate wooden desk sits a few strides from the bed, positioned at an angle, facing the view beyond the glass. The desktop is covered with fine parchment and scrolls, organized by size, and an array of inkpots and quills, a wax burner, and a seal.
I pick up the seal and study its impression. It’s the same sigil I bear on my skin.
Alexus’s mark. His seal.
These are his chambers.
Carefully, I slip my hand into the slit at the neck of my gown and touch the mark that burned itself into my body, branded Alexus’s name onto my bones. It’s part of me now, much as my soul. On that path in the wood, he’d awoken enough of his magick to create a link between us, keeping me in the here and now. He gave me something to hold onto in my darkest hour. Someone to hold onto. Because of him, I’d been strong enough to straddle two worlds.
I return the seal and ghost my hand across an unrolled scroll, feeling the soft rise of Elikesh words Alexus must’ve begun writing some time ago. The ink is dry, the table a little dusty from disuse. I don’t recognize the handwriting, of course, but its elegance calls to me.
There’s a tunic draped over the chair.
I touch it. Hold it to my nose. Take a deep breath.
Everything smells like him, that scent of rich spices, dark wood, and the sweet aroma of ancient magick. I turn back to the bed. Even the linens smell of him, and not just because he laid with me for a while. But because that bed knows his body intimately. It makes me want to curl back up and never leave.
I pluck a book from his desk and clutch it to my chest. He reads. And writes. Things I would’ve possibly guessed but didn’t know. There’s still so much to learn about him, and I want that chance, scared as that makes me feel.
At the window, I stare over the snowy village that has fallen quiet for the night. One could almost think nothing happened here, if this were the only perspective. The white rooftops and smoke curling from chimneys remind me of home.
But lovely and serene as the scene may appear, if I turn to the left, the tops of the stables and granary are also visible, burned during the attack to nothing but wooden skeletons. I remember the destroyed main gate, the bodies strewn across the courtyard when we arrived, and at least a dozen wounded Witch Walkers being cared for in the main hall when Alexus carried me inside.
Thoughts arise, my mind speculating the worst scenarios. I don’t want to imagine the destruction that took place, the way fire had to dominate ice. I don’t want to think about more bloodshed, much less look its damage in the eye, but I should go downstairs and see how I can be of use with the injured. Try to find Alexus. Nephele. Helena.
Before I can turn around, a deep voice fills the room. “Do you like books?”
Startled, I face my visitor.
Alexus stands in the doorway, watching me, leaning his long body against the frame. One booted foot crosses the other, his cloak hanging over his arm. I never heard the door open, too lost in my thoughts.
My stomach ties itself into a knot. I’ve seen the sadness he wears before, that forlorn expression when he returned from Littledenn at the stream. I don’t know where he’s been today or what he’s faced with the people of Winterhold, but it has affected him deeply.
He pushes off the molding and steps across the threshold, closing the door behind him. I swallow hard when the lock clicks and he tosses his cloak on a chair, then moves deeper into the room.
My heart hammers. I haven’t answered him, and I’m still clutching one of his books to my chest. I slip it under my arm, shrug like a fool, and find my words.
“I love books,” I sign. “Though there are not many in the vale.”
A cloud drifts over his face, one of guilt, his eyes aglow in the firelight as he passes the hearth.
“I thought I might be needed,” I continue, trying to make the discomfort between us evaporate, though I’m aware that most of that discomfort is coming from me. “For healing,” I add. “I was going to check downstairs. Find Nephele and Helena.”
“Nephele checked on you an hour ago, but you were still asleep. She’s resting now. Everyone is resting. If you’re up to mending cuts and burns in the morning, well enough, but it’s best if we give the castle time to grieve and rest tonight.” He sits on the edge of the bed closest to me, runs his palms down his leather-clad thighs, and lets out a sigh. “Come here. Please.”
I slip the book back to my chest like a shield. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. We’ve been together for days, have hardly left one another’s side. I laid in that bed with him. I’ve kissed him. Touched him.
I crave him.
Yet I’m terrified.
Slowly, I go to him. He looks up at me with those bold, green eyes and reaches for the book still clasped to my body. Finally, I let go, and he sets it aside on the bed.
His gaze travels over me, and I’m suddenly aware that my thin gown hides little. Alexus settles his strong hands on my hips and drops his forehead to my chest, his grip on me tightening.
Tears rush up inside me for reasons I can’t explain, a well-erected dam threatening to yield. He’s said so little, yet I feel his grief, his worry, his fear, his want seeping into me.
I slide my hands into his hair, and he meets my eyes again, his stare glassy.
“We need to talk.”