Page 58 of Ties of Death

And I may have never been pregnant, but even I know it would be too soon to tell. This line of questioning is awful and ridiculous on so many levels.

“No.” I manage to keep my voice even, and I mentally congratulate myself.

Their faces collectively fall.

“Ah, well, you were only married for a short period of time,” says Lord Beck. “It’s understandable.”

Very magnanimous of him.

He continues in a matter-of-fact voice. “We’ll find you a new king in time. After the mourning period ends, of course.”

Rage lights my insides in an instant, burning away my shame. “No,” I snarl. “We won’t. Your king is right there.” I stab a finger toward the bed, where Daenn lays, blissfully unaware that I’m on the verge of murdering all of his advisors. “I don’t need nor do I want a new king. The next man who dares suggest as much can find his way off the mountain, or I will have Storm forcibly remove him from the mountain. Have I made myself clear?”

They stare at me, every one of them stunned. After a moment, Beck stammers acknowledgment, and I receive a chorus of agreement from the rest.

“Get out.” I’m finished with them for the day. I really will throw someone off a cliff if I have to tolerate any more of their nonsense.

It’s a wonder Daenn never stabbed any of them. The man has self-restraint the size of our mountain.

They leave with impressive speed. Eskil lingers, but I turn my back on him and go sit by Daenn.

“I’ll go tell Sigrid you need some lunch,” he announces, a sliver of humor in his voice. Of course he finds it funny. He has no way of knowing how tender the topic is for me. Or maybe he’s just trying to pull me back from my homicidal thoughts.

I don’t have a chance to snarl at him too, though, because he leaves promptly after speaking.

I sigh and drop my head into my hands. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with any of the advisors anymore, but I don’t truly want to be alone.

But then, I’m not. It’s just that the man I want to be with and talk to can’t talk back.

I tilt my head in my hands so I’m staring at Daenn. “I miss you,” I mutter, misery thick in the words. A trace of the anger threads through it. “If you don’t wake up, I’m never speaking to you again. I’ll leave and let your advisors deal with their own stupid questions.”

It’s all angry fluff, but venting my frustration helps loosen the knot in my chest. I sigh again and lean forward, pressing my head against Daenn’s bicep. The fabric of his sleeve is rough, but I don’t care.

His arm shifts under my forehead, and I jerk back.

“Daenn?” I reach for him, frantic hope bursting and drowning every other emotion.

Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he opens his eyes.

34

Original Intentions

His gaze is unfocused as it swings across the room, finally landing on me. He drags in shallow, ragged breaths. His skin is still that unnatural pale grey beneath his natural olive tone.

He’s awake, though. I cling to that blessing.

“How are you feeling?” My fingers curl over his gloved hand. I have to make a conscious effort to not crush it in my grip.

“Water?” His voice is so hoarse I can barely make the word out. I hurry to pour him water from the pitcher Sigrid left for me by the table. Daenn tries to rise, but all he can manage is to prop himself on one elbow. Water sloshes over the rim of the clay cup when he takes it from me, but he manages to bring it to his lips and take a sip. His hand drops, and the cup slips from his grip. I barely catch it; water spills over my skirt. I set the cup on the tray with the pitcher.

“Daenn—” My voice fails me. I have to blink back tears. He’s awake… but he’s so weak. I’ve heard stories about people dying; they get a second wind right before the end. What if his waking up is just that? What if these are his final moments?

“I’m dying.” He drops back onto his pillow and tilts his head to look at me.

I nod.

A calm, final sort of resignation snakes over the bond to me. It’s faint, far fainter than how the bond was before his collapse, but I do feel it.

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