Page 55 of Heart of Winter
“Hadyouput me…why not a manservant?”
“I – volunteered.”
That was…that was too much to think about, at the moment, as tired and dizzy as he was. “But there were parts that must not have been real. There was…” Explanation slipped through his fingers, and he frowned; shook his head.
Erik’s head tilted, and he winced slightly. “That was probably the ice rose.”
“The…?” A page from his reading returned to him, an ink sketch of a plant with small rosettes for leaves. “Isn’t that a hallucinogen?”
Erik nodded. “It’s medicinal, too. The clansmen of the Waste swear by it, and, in this case” – a small smile – “it appears to have worked.”
“Or maybe my fever simply ran its course, like it always does.”
Erik grew serious again; he leaned forward, a hand on the blankets beside Oliver’s hand, his hair sliding forward over his shoulders so that the sunlight caught the silver strands in it, and they gleamed bright as the beads in his rumpled braids. “You looked dead, by the time I put you in the tub. We are lucky that…” He trailed off, his gaze tracking back and forth across Oliver’s face. Then he sat back with a deep exhale. Gathered himself, all kingly dignity again, formal and stiff. “I apologize for taking you out into the night after your cousin. If the stress caused your relapse, then–”
“Do you honestly think I would have let you go without me?” Oliver interrupted. “Tessa possibly lying dead or eaten by wolves, and you thought I’d sit by the fire and worry like an old woman?”
Erik frowned. “There was no need to risk your health.”
“I’m not as delicate as all that.”
A single brow arched.
“All right, fine, I wasn’t dressed warmly enough. And I’m not used to the bloody cold up here. But worrying about Tessa is only the last bit of stress heaped on top of all the stress that’s been building since the duke died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for? You didn’t go off and get yourself killed in some idiot war. That was my family. Yours is just–” He motioned toward Erik. “Stressful in general.”
Erik’s smile returned, small, but his eyes danced, the warm blue of spring cornflowers in the sunlight. “In what way?”
It was Oliver’s turn to arch his brows – both, because he couldn’t manage Erik’s one-at-a-time trick. “So asks thekingwhovolunteeredtobatheme.” He could see it, then, the image of what it must have looked like filling his mind. Heat flooded his face, and he pressed his hands over his eyes. “Gods, why did youdothat?” he mumbled.
He heard what might have been a chuckle, and then Erik said, “It wasn’t as if it was the first time I saw you in the bath.”
Realization crashed over him. “The hot springs,” he said against his palms.
“Yes.”
“That really happened?”
“If you mean, did I find you unconscious and on the verge of drowning in them, then yes, that happened.”
Oliver groaned. His memories were blurred and indistinct, but he could remember that he’d said – some things. Some too blunt, embarrassing, depending upon the societal view of such things up here potentially dangerous things that he definitely shouldn’t have been saying to the warrior king of a warrior nation. “Whatever I said – whatever I did – please, just, please pretend it never happened. I was delirious, and out of my mind, and I never meant–”
Two strong hands closed around his wrists, and his mouth snapped shut so hard his teeth clacked.
Slowly, Erik pulled his hands down from in front of his face, and Erik’s face was much closer than it had been, and much softer than Oliver would have dreamed in this situation. He didn’t release Oliver’s wrists, but held them, thumbs pressed over his pulse points, so he had to feel the way that Oliver’s heart lurched and leaped.
“Oliver.” Serious, but kind, his voice a gentle rumble. “You have nothing –nothing– to be ashamed of, or worried about.”
His sincerity, and the warmth of his touch, his earnest gaze, put a lump in Oliver’s throat. His eyes stung, and he blinked hard. “If anyone heard–”
“It was only ever you, and me, and the people I trust most in the world. Not a soul who would take offense was anywhere near you.”
“I – that–” He was light-headed from breathing too quickly. “That’s good, then. That’s…” He winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
Erik laid one large, warm hand on the top of his head – then slid it sideways, across his rumpled curls, so he cradled the side if his face, his thumb warm as a brand on Oliver’s cheek.
