Page 53 of The Book of Legends
Nieve appears, radiant in a cherry-red gossamer gown. “You’re awake,” she says, rushing to my bedside.
A snort behind her makes her roll her eyes. The door clanks shut.
“That would be your guard,” she mutters with a smirk. “Annoyed he got stuck watching your door instead of playing soldier downstairs.”
“Kainen ordered him?”
She nods. “He’s... been worried about you.”
I doubt that.But I can barely think straight—my throat feels like I swallowed fire and ash.
“Oh,” Nieve gasps, as if remembering. “Newt said you’d feel like that.” A cup materializes in her hand, and she hands it to me. “Drink.”
The water is ice cold, sweet relief sliding down my raw throat.
Before I can ask about the flowers, Nieve is already at the wardrobe, pulling out a dress. It’s long, sheer in places I’d rather it weren’t.
“We don’t have much time. Breakfast is nearly over. You’ve been asleep for three days.”
Three days?
She glances over her shoulder. “Newt made sure you stayed hydrated. No complications. Just rest.”
My stomach growls in agreement. I bathe quickly, let her help me dress, and follow her to the dining hall—my nerves tight as a bowstring.
“I don’t want to go in there.”
“They know better now,” she whispers, her voice low and firm.
Inside, male Fae sit at long tables, their weapons set neatly beside their plates. A few glance up, pausing mid-bite. The other Nymphs, including Dedra, are already seated—though her glare could slice bone.
And then... Kainen.
Sitting at the head of the table, dark and devastating in his black tunic, he looks up—and the noise around us fades.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
But he sees me.
My skin burns under his gaze. When it dips, slow and deliberate, over my chest, heat licks up my spine. For a second, I’m back at the lagoon—his name on my lips, his hands in my hair.
“You’re staring,” Nieve whispers, guiding me toward the same seat I’d taken the first day.
As I sit, the entire hall goes still.
All eyes shift to Kainen, waiting. But he doesn’t acknowledge them. He simply picks up a piece of fruit and begins to eat, like nothing happened.
I reach for an apple, biting in. Juicy. Sweet.
And then?—
“Have you no respect?” Dedra sneers, venom dripping from every word.
I raise my brow over the apple. “What’s your problem?”
“You,” she snaps.
Her crimson hair glows beneath the morning sun. Outside the window, a black hawk perches silently, talons curling into the stone.
