Page 52 of Merciless Is My Crown

ANARIA

Iwoke the next morning rested and alone in bed, only a hollowed-out divot beside me to show everything from last night wasn’t a figment of my imagination.

I swung my legs over the bed, sure I smelled flowers—impossible since we were on the cusp of a hard winter, but yes…that was definitely…lavender? When I got to the bathing chamber, I found a steaming hot bath sprinkled with tiny purple blooms, clean clothes, and a female’s silver hairbrush laid out for me.

I picked it up and pulled out a long blond hair.

Celia’s, perhaps.

The longer I peered at that golden hair, the more I wondered. How long was she sick? How bad did she get, and most importantly, how much longer did Tavion have?

A pounding began inside my head, questions I needed to ask—should have asked a long time ago—haunting me as I set the brush down.

Tavion was sick. Lucius never found a cure.

Why, oh why, hadn’t I asked Bexley to try healing him? Why had I let that opportunity slip through my fingers? Because you are a fool sometimes, Anaria.

A fear surged inside me, then I scrubbed my face, willing myself to get a grip. There was a cure for everything if you looked hard enough. If Lucius’s healers couldn’t help Tavion, we’d find someone who could.

Maybe the High Barrens Coven would have healers.

I stirred my hand through the tub, sending lavender blooms spinning. I didn’t know how Tavion had managed all this without waking me, but I was lowering myself into that hot water in record time, the heat sinking into me like a balm. I soaked off layers of sweat and grime, scrubbed my hair twice, pulled on the loose, comfortable clothes, and headed downstairs.

I stopped dead in the kitchen doorway to see Tavion’s and Lucius’s heads were bent together, and they were having a quiet, civil conversation. When Lucius’s eyes flipped up to mine, they were filled with a mixture of confusion and joy, and before I could talk myself out of it, I poured myself a cup of coffee and joined them.

“You two are looking chipper this morning.”

Tavion’s eyes twinkled before his father said, “The healers spent most of the night with Tristan. He’s slept for a solid six hours.” Lucius looked better, still caught mid-shift, but he’d filled out, no longer the starving, haunted male I’d met a few months ago.

“Were they able to find anything?” I asked, trying to phrase all my fears into the most neutral question ever before I took a long sip of coffee for good measure. I bit back my moan of bliss when the flavor hit my tongue.

“Repressed magical tendencies, past trauma, something to do with his parents,” Lucius murmured, his eyes drifting over to Tavion before they swung back to mine. “Physically, he’s fine, except for being exhausted and dehydrated and undernourished.” As if that was his cue, Lucius pushed a plate of pastries over to me. “He’s still sleeping.”

“He can sleep until it’s time to leave. Dane’s getting everything ready now.” Tavion looked…good. He was rested and he’d bathed as well, dressing in heavy, utilitarian clothing, the kind I’d never seen him in before. He looked…dangerous, I supposed, his hair pulled severely back with a leather tie. Still roguishly handsome, of course. Something he was well aware of, winking at me over his coffee.

He looked…good. Healthy.

I didn’t want to admit how much the sight settled me.

“We’re leaving today?”

“In a few hours.” Soft, silent feet padded behind me, and Tavion’s expression shifted into something lethal. “Adele.”

Heavy bootfalls followed right behind my mother’s mouse-quiet steps and Dane blew in like a force of fucking nature, bringing in a gale of wintery wind and a big fucking attitude.

“There’s my girl.” He squeezed me so tight I wondered if I’d pop, then planted a wet, smacking kiss on my cheek before I could pull away. “I hope you’re ready for an adventure.”

“No more adventures,” I told him, shoving him away with a smile I couldn’t stop. “I’d give anything to stay here for a few months and just…rest.” My eyes caught Tavion’s before he dipped his head to hide his own smile filled with something I couldn’t quite identify.

“This is too important to put off,” Adele counseled, pouring herself some coffee. She was dressed like the rest of us, warm clothing that was easy to move in, though hers hung loosely on her emaciated frame. She’d gathered her hair behind her head, her skull shining through in spots.

Pity swelled then faded as I replayed last night’s conversation.

“Tell us the truth, Dane. How dangerous are the Barrens?” Tavion set down his cup, looking at his uncle with that no bullshite expression. “You used to tell me you were lucky to get out of there alive. I’m not taking my wife anywhere she’ll be in peril.”

Lucius beamed; Adele made a sound of disgust as she dragged a chair over.

Dane threw off his heavy coat, sending a shower of water onto the kitchen floor. “After everything you two have seen these past months, the High Barrens won’t be the worst. But…” His gaze and Lucius’s met, then their jaws clenched. “The witches are dangerous.”

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