Page 110 of Kingdoms of Night

The cloying scent of fennel assaulted his nose, and an herbal minty mix. A cool, smooth ceramic rim pressed against his lips. Steam rose up to his nostrils, moistening his skin.

More damned tea.

At this point, he couldn’t even object. He just gulped it down.

Warmth blossomed through his veins, easing his pain, his nausea, and luring him to sleep. When she slid her arm back out from under his neck, his body lolled down onto his side, and he let himself fall however, too weak and too tired to care. Still, he was already feeling a bit better.

He hated tea, including this one, but as medicine, it worked. Maybe he’d misjudged her, in more ways than one.

It didn’t mean anything. He’d saved her life, so maybe she’d stuck around this time just to pay him back.

The bed gently settled, dipping slightly as she sat down on the edge. She’d already gotten him here to relative safety, prepared this antidote, and administered it to him. If she was trying to repay him for saving her life, then her debt had just been cleared when he’d gulped down the tea.

And yet, she was still here beside him, despite having been hurt herself, trying to care for him through the effects of Puck’s evil tea and the injuries the spriggan had inflicted. And she’d taken the time to care for his packmates—

He paused.

His… packmates?

He huffed into the pillow. Lord Brennan Karandis Marcel. He hated when lords were right about anything.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

IDALNO

After giving Feron more tea and ensuring he was deeply sleeping, Idalno stood in front of the fire in her light gray underdress and rubbed her arms.

All of her clothing was still drenched. At this point, those beautiful handmade garments with the intricate embroidery were ruined forever. All the hours she’d spent stitching those emblems and motifs. Wasted. Gone.

Her tasseled shawl was probably still in the lake, along with the sapphire clasp and probably the last feather thorn. Her poor cactli would never come clean again, and the strap of one was already loosening. The fact she hadn’t lost them was a miracle.

She stared at the fireplace, then her gaze meandered back to Feron sleeping peacefully beneath the blanket. He would probably sleep for a long time, if she understood his werewolf physiology. He had responded to treatment similarly to a human, but with an exceptionally strong healing factor similar to a shifter, so she’d ultimately given him a higher dose.

Regardless, he would sleep for a good bit longer. And she did need to get warm.

The wet underdress chilled her, even beside the fire. It would dry faster hanging up. She stripped off her remaining clothes and hung them near the fire. Some of the algae-laden pond water dripped down, its dead-fish stench suffocating the room.

Her stomach twisted. What a horrible world this was.

She took a seat on one of two rickety chairs by the wall and crossed one leg over the other. Thanks to the Tue-Rah, she’d gotten to visit many worlds in search of poisons and venoms. None had been as miserable as this. Well, there had been the one where she’d been stuck in fetid waters with hungry leeches for a few hours. And then she had gotten stranded in the salt desert, trying to get some ghost quartz. She’d almost died of thirst and sun poisoning out there. Then there was that time she’d broken her ankle while trying to catch a puff adder. And of course milking titanocobras was never a treat—those things had an attitude from the moment they were born.

Maybe Faerie, as a whole, wasn’t so bad.

And this hut, strange as it was, did offer respite. It might have once been a lovely place. A home for a family. For now, it was good as a stronghold.

The heat from the fire warmed her. The walls protected them. It had been a long time since she had felt safe. There was even a door present, albeit molding with a rusted handle.

She shivered. It was far too cold to be naked, but wet clothes would’ve been worse.

As long as she put her clothes back on before Feron woke, this would be fine. He’d stripped down himself, and it hadn’t seemed to mean anything. But that didn’t mean he needed to see her naked body.

Even though she had seen his.

Her throat tightened, her heart racing a little faster.

So what? Why did she even care?

There was nothing wrong with the physical body. Most of the human-like races were largely similar in anatomy, and there was a particular beauty to every body. Certainly Feron had a well-formed one, with clear evidence of his hard work and many toned muscles.

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