Page 13 of King of Moon and Claws

Elora could not respond properly to the king’s claim that he would keep her in the palace. They had discussed it privately, but the way he’d state it was so impersonal, lacking intimacy. It brought up a flood of memories during her time in Vasilis’s dingy, dank bunker.

She began to shake uncontrollably. She knew better than anyone, especially as a woman, that the body always remembered, even if the mind refused.

Quivers crawled up her fingertips, a tingle of sorts, then slithered up her arms. The sensation coiled around her neck like a noose, and the shaking evolved into a disturbing, full-body quake.

Before the king could get to his feet, the shaman placed his hand on her arm. She knew the second Iagan laid his palm on her that there was a magical element to him.

She managed to meet his eye, the pupil shrinking into a sea of dim, powder blue. She imagined they had a brilliant brighter shade when he was in his prime.

His voice was even and lulled her mind back to the present, away from the damp basement where she was pushed to her limit.

Elora then realized how truly scarred she was and that moving along the healing path was going to be just as harrowing as the nightmare itself.

The experience was seared into her soul. And the salve was going to sting.

“You have been through a lot, dear child,” the shaman said, moving his hand up and down her forearm. “I can feel it. It must be a priority for you to rest and to heal. Whatever this terrible creature did to you, it would be prudent to forget. Go back to whispering to the birds and mice.”

A palpable flow of heat moved up her body from the spot where Iagan touched her. It was symbolic, it was literal. As a witch, she could pick up the use of spells and enchantments as well as the small ways magical folk expressed their energies.

There was certainly something enchanted about the shaman.

And perhaps, something else intertwined between his intentions entirely.

She smiled, the anxiety fading away like a flash rainstorm. Another emotion started to rise, another she couldn’t deny.

“You’re right. I really need to rest. I have no interest in picking up where Vasilis left off.”

Bastian spoke. “Iagan is right. The castle has everything you will ever need to recover and return to how life was before your terrible ordeal."

The shaman removed his hand from her arm.

Elora was a bit annoyed at having both men make plans for her. Still, she agreed for appearance's sake. The king was stricken with concern, his mouth twisted in a glower, and she found herself wanting to please him.

“I think I will be fine with that,” she said, grinning broadly.

The shaman and the king, two men who hadn’t been present during the inconceivable months of torment, relaxed. They returned to their conversation, turning from her as if she were a ghost.

“I will stay in touch, Iagan,” the king said, rising to his feet. “Please visit whenever the mood suits you. My door is always open.”

“Thank you, My King. I will keep my eyes and ears open for information about this vampire leader and his intent.”

The shaman stood and Bastian came to him, shaking his hand enthusiastically. Elora did too, giving the wise man a polite bow.

“It was wonderful to meet you,” she said, still forcing a grin.

“Indeed, it was just as lovely to meet you.”

A servant arrived and escorted the shaman out of the lounge, leaving the king and Elora alone. As soon as the housekeeper retrieved the tray of snacks and tea, Bastian made his dinner request.

“Agor, please inform the chef that we have a guest for dinner tonight. And for the foreseeable future. Make the leanest cut of meat from the most prized sow.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Agor left the room and closed the door behind her. They were finally alone.

Her skin broke into goose bumps, feeling the king’s powerful emerald glare. She started to muse about their time in the hot spring when he promptly came to her.

She was stunned when he lowered himself to the floor before her. She felt her entire body blush.

---