Page 32 of Shadows of the Crown

“If you utter a word of this to anyone, I will kill you.” I smirk at the threat.

“You’ll kill me either way, angel.” She is not impressed with the humor. I level her with as serious a look as I can summon. “You have my word.”

I can practically see the conflict she’s struggling with. I cannot imagine she accepts the help of others very often.

“Fine. I need to get back to my room.” I open my mouth to protest, but her expression forces me to abandon the words.

“Okay, here.” I offer my hand, quietly appreciating the lack of hesitation before her fingers wrap around mine. I bend under her arm to take her weight, pausing when she winces and presses the egg harder into her side.

“I’m fine, just go.”

We’re lucky that no one sees us as we walk to her room. I should call for Elowen…she can heal Ariella in her room if the wraith refuses to go to her. She leans into me more and more as we move, her hand squeezing mine tightly over my shoulder. Her breaths shorten, and I’m amazed she’s still standing when we’re finally at her door.

She twists a hand and pulls back slightly; the movement shifting something in the door. I fucking knew it…those were wards she unlocked a few days ago. I want to ask how, but keep the questions to myself. She’s barely conscious as we step into her room, and my forehead creases when I survey it. No, notherroom, butaroom. It’s so impeccably clean that I do not believe she stays here; even the air smells of fresh linens, lacking her usually sultry fragrance.

I set the egg on her bed and lead her to the bathroom, pulling her toward the shower. Warm water should help while I fetch Elowen.

“No, stop,” she commands weakly. I reluctantly allow her to pull from my hold, but hover closely as she leans against the vanity.

Her face is contorted as if she’s in much more pain than she’s willing to show. Blood still seeps from her wounds. She must truly be the Angel, because the amount of blood she has lost and yet lives? Impossible. Her skin is nearly gray, and I shake my head, stepping from the room. I do not fucking care if she doesn’t want a healer. I’ll deal with her wrath when she’s no longer in death’s grip.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I could act as if I did not hear her near-silent words, but I pause and look over my shoulder. Sheleans against her hands, smearing blood along the stone. Her head falls back, and it takes everything in me to not bolt from the room.

“You’re dying, Ariella, let me get Elowen!” The hint of a smirk graces her face.

“Shut the fuck up, Caspian. I need to concentrate.” I step back into the room; the warm, metallic scent evidence of her draining life. I will give her one minute before I go for the healer. I shouldn’t even wait that long, but the tinge of worry in her voice is enough to keep me here.

Her arm lifts, and she stumbles. I reach out, my hands far too eager to have her in them again. She rights herself only to begin weaving. Her fingers tug on invisible strands as I watch her carefully. Those movements…she couldn’t be…

“By the Angel,” I breathe when warm light glows from the gashes across her torso. I watch as her skin stitches itself back together and color slowly returns to her face. This is unheard of. To possess essence for all affinities…I feel uneasy. Not from her secrets, but understanding why she keeps them. She would be targeted for her essence. Exploited or killed—because that is the law. Enforced by the king.

My eyes snap to her face, which thankfully looks better with each passing minute. Is that why she hates my father so much? Does he know her secret, and she was right to accuse him of attempting to end her life?

What the fuck is going on? Clearly, I have been willfully ignorant of the greater happenings within the castle. I will cease with blindly trusting others and pay more attention to the things that occur when I turn around.

Ariella groans. My body reacts, jerking forward to help, but she doesn’t need it. I want to give it to her regardless and will hungrily accept whatever punishment she sees fit for the misbehavior.

I am captivated by the woman in front of me—blood and all. Not even Elowen could have closed her wounds in just one session…but Ariella has healed them to meager scratches. She slumps, her body completely giving out. I rush to catch her, ignoring the heat that spreads from each place our skin touches.

She sighs when her cheek touches the cool tile, and I briefly wonder if I should try to wash some blood from her. But my lip curls and closes that path of thinking. I am not interested in violating unconscious women.

When she awakens is a different matter entirely, however.

I scan her face as if I’ve not yet memorized every piece of it before releasing her and sliding to the wall behind me. It takes just one breath for me to rationalize staying with her. She seems healed enough, though I cannot be sure. If she won’t allow Elowen here, then I must watch over her. I’d also worry about another entering her room, as she didn’t replace her wards—whatever she risks using them for must be important.

I chuckle at how ridiculous this is. I know she will be okay; I also know she will be pissed if she finds me here. When was the last time someone sat with her who didn’t want to use or kill her?

The drying blood on her hands smudges against the tile when she shifts.

A reminder.

Of things I shouldn’t care about, but do. I haven’t fought this curious fascination that keeps tugging me toward the wraith. But…I do not want to. Who she pretends to be, or what she does outside of this castle—none of it matters. I want to know her. Be near her and soak in the confidence she exudes. And if all she’ll ever give me are harsh words and blades to my throat? I want that, too.

I cross my arms and swipe a hand over my mouth, watching the even rise and fall of her breathing. I do not have the nerve to question my father outright, but he must know something. The memory of his cold, azure eyes haunts me. I know that if I fuck up again, he will see it as a threat to the king rather than disobeying my father.

I need to be careful, but this is too important to overlook.

Someone had sent her to a griffin…never mind that she was brilliant enough to be the only person I’ve heard of to survive such an encounter, but what was the purpose? Had someone truly intended to kill her, or perhaps they assumed she just wouldn’t complete the trial?

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