Page 32 of Crown of Ellova: Vol 1

This feels right; he was meant to be here with me tonight, in my bed. It was always meant to be him. The cottage is warmer with his presence. Unlike every other night for the past century, sleep findsme easily. The events of today have drained me; my bones ache, and my heart is heavy, but when his fingers slowly lace with mine, I squeeze his hand and fall asleep with a smile on my face.

CHAPTER 14

Birds call to one another, adding to the sounds of the forest waking up beneath the vanishing purple sky. Slivers of early sunlight peek in behind my sheer white curtains.

Delightfully aware of warmth on both sides of me, I do not believe I have ever rested so well. Much of yesterday’s pain has faded. Farren is curled up and snuggling in my arms, his snout resting on my bicep. He smells faintly like the dirt he loves to play in and the sweet blackberry patch he naps under on warm days. My soul swells with adoration at that little face and his purr of contentment.

The love for this small creature spreads through me. He’s just as much family to me as Nueena and Tavien are.

The other warmth is Leon. His bare chest presses against my back, one arm wrapped around my waist. My nightshirt has ridden up, so he clings to my stomach, his fingers grasping my soft flesh. The short consideration of moving is whisked away when he pulls me closer to him, his arm tightening. His face finds my neck, but his steady breathing leads me to believe he is still fast asleep.

Farren peers up at me, sleep still in his eyes. I kiss his nose, my lips striking quickly before he can get away from my affections. Heside-eyes me and slips gracefully from my arms, stretching before jumping off the bed.

“Don’t pretend we weren’t cuddling,” I whisper to my little beast. He looks at me with a bored expression before slinking off towards the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t dare to pretend such things,” Leon says and I can fight the smile no longer. His breathing is slow and rhythmic, still clinging to sleep; his nose is just under my ear. It moves slowly down and he inhales my scent before brushing his lips lightly against me. I let out a little gasp at his unexpected but not unwelcome tenderness.

“Not you. Go back to sleep.” With my arms free of my pet, I place my hand over Leon’s on my waist, interlacing our fingers, which is met with a tight squeeze from him. I give in to the cloud of tiredness still in my head and close my eyes again.

“You first.” I can feel his smile on my skin as he says it.

I yawn. “One more hour and then we get up.”

“Deal.’’ He somehow manages to pull me even closer, and sleep finds me again.

The smell of roasted potatoes and bacon rouses me from sleep. The bed is cool and empty this time, now that both of my heat sources are in the kitchen. I pull the blankets tighter around myself and watch a shirtless Leon whisk something in a small bowl. Farren is on the counter, a place he knows he’s not allowed to be, accepting small bites of meat from Leon, who chops up bacon and throws it into the mixture.

He has opened the windows for a soft breeze, but the cottage is warm from his cooking. My heart tightens at the way he takes care of me; the view of him in my small kitchen is unexpected. He is whispering to Farren, who looks at him with a surprising amount of concentration. My little pet found someone to feed him and let him get up on the counter; Leon has made a friend for life.

He chops up vegetables before adding them into a roasting pan.When I finally do sit up, the world spins as the magic rushes up and down, flooding my body. My stomach lurches, bringing with it a sickening swell that makes me gag. The magic is awake and seemingly livid it found me still in possession of it. I pull my knees towards me and cover my face with my hands as the nausea rises. Some noises of movement and the oven door shuts in the kitchen. The sound of his bare feet walking across my floor only gives me a brief warning Leon has made his way over to me. The bed dips as he sits back down, placing a strong hand on the curve of my back, rubbing in deep circles to soothe me.

“I’m all right.” Mumbling into my knees, I lean into his touch.

“Are you sure? Can I get you anything?” His voice is soft and full of gentle worry as his hands move across my spine. We stay like that for a few minutes, and I enjoy his touch as the nausea subsides until only the angry pressure remains. Slowly I turn my head to face him.

“Hello.” It comes out weakly.

“Good morning.” He smiles down at me with concern.

I try to stay focused on his face and not the bare chest inches from me. My eyes betray me, and I glance down to the taut muscles and thick torso. “You know, for a healer, you have quite the physical form. Did you have an excess of available time in your medical education to work on building those muscles?”

“Oh, yes, positions within medicine are notorious for leisurely activities.” He nudges my shoulder gently but sobers. “Jedrick required I be trained with his guard as well, just in case I came down as his last defense.”

“In case three armed men sneak in and kidnap him, or, I guess, ‘kingnap’ him.” I regret the jest for a moment; maybe that’s too far, but thankfully he laughs. It’s rich and invites my smile to widen.

“Yes, but based on my previous performance I shall focus on healing from now on. Perhaps guard duty is not a strength of mine.”

“Three against one is hardly a fair fight,” I add helpfully.

“Ah, but you handled them just fine. One day you will have to tell me how you accomplished that.”

Well, he has a point there. I almost point out that I had magic on my side but perhaps it’s just best to leave it. “What are you making that smells so divine? I am surprised you know how to cook.”

“What is cooking if not alchemy with different ingredients? My mother made sure I knew how to cook. I should be offended by your remark,” he teases. “I wasn’t up there with a silver spoon in my hand, you know. It was demanding labor, unlike most of the fools of Jedrick’s court, who lay around all day and complained.”

It is my turn to bump his shoulder. “Well, thank you for making breakfast. I haven’t had a meal made for me here in a long time.” The memory of my mother making rosemary pancakes for me and Nueena over a century ago appears vividly in my mind. The smell of warm butter and rich herbs, her laughter as she watched us play together. Before my father’s death broke her heart so completely.

“In the pantry I noticed there was quite a bit of dried meat. A favorite of yours?” he teases.

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