Page 35 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
Percy grins from ear to ear. “He did, didn’t he?”
“And that greeting? So squeaky. If he wants us to think he’s moved on, he’s not fooling anyone.”
They exchange a conspiratorial glance and share a snigger. A shiver runs through me. Blimey… Percy and Seth getting along? That’s a surprising twist I didn’t see coming.
They gossip happily about Percy’s ex-boyfriend, and I suspect they’re both trying to take my mind off what’s happening to my arm.
The master healer spreads an icy mixture over the bite marks under the watchful eyes of her colleagues, teaching them as she goes. I grit my teeth against the white-hot pain. The semi-liquid juice worms its way into my flesh like a living thing, frosting the edges and freezing the rest. A trickle of nausea slithers up my chest.
Ice burns deeper than flames.
Seth squeezes my hand, and to my horror, I squeeze back. The heat of his palm brings a shred of comfort, which I hate. I’m not used to relying on anyone or showing vulnerability,especially not in the presence of strangers, and I’ve got half a mind to throw him out of the examination cubicle before I completely embarrass myself, but the pain stops suddenly.
“All done. You did phenomenal. Most patients faint or scream, or both,” the master healer says.
“Thanks,” I grumble.
I’m used to pain, but I chew on my lips not to say so, unwilling to discuss my scars further.
“Can we go now?” I ask curtly.
The woman presses her lips together at my rudeness, but she nods. “Yes.”
Seth lets out a small chuckle on our way out. “You’re not used to saying thank you, are you?”
“I’m not used to asking for help.” I bite the insides of my cheeks. “Or getting it.”
The words taste strange, like admitting to a flaw I didn’t know I had. I’m a grown, independent woman, used to facing life head-on and not expecting any favors from anyone.
Seth doesn’t say anything else, and we return to the castle in stilted silence. His hand comes dangerously close to the small of my back a few times as Percy guides us through the maze toward the guest wing, a section of the castle I visited during my time as queen.
Sara’s waiting for us on the parapet. “Byron warned me of your arrival. Is everything good with your arm?” she asks.
“No need to cut it off just yet,” I joke.
She takes us through a side entrance, where long white marble hallways snake around a few lavish apartments. The sharp smell of ice and pine hangs in the air, cold and clean.
“Good,” she says with humor. “I’ll show you to your rooms.”
We follow her to the end of the corridor. “Here for you, Devi. Seth, you’re right at the end of this hallway.” She hands us each a key. “Can I get you anything else?”
Seth grabs my hand, brings my knuckles to his lips, then twists it over and pecks the underside of my wrist. “Closer rooms?”
“Goodnight, Seth.” I push him off, and he chuckles softly as he heads down the hall.
“Looks like he’s found a new mountain to climb,” Sara quips.
“Is that what he does? Climbmountains?” I enunciate slowly, my mouth pasty from the lack of sleep and the painful healing session.
“I’d say you’re the most famous peak there is, but yes.”
I brace my hands on my hips, watching Seth turn the corner. “I’m not opposed to a brave adventurer planting his flag on me, as long as he’s nice to look at…” I trail off, sowing the seeds of what’s to come. It’s easier to play the flirt when he’s not encroaching on my personal space. I hate that he gets to me, but Seth is right. If I want to convince everyone—including Seth himself—that we’re engaged, I need to put on my game face.
A heavy sigh whistles out of Sara’s mouth. “I wish I could relate, but to me, all men look the same.”
I chuckle wholeheartedly at that and pat her shoulder in commiseration. “Good night, Sara.”
Chapter 11
