Page 52 of Claimed By Shadow and Blood
My body shook, rousing me from slumber. I opened my eyes to find Thalen leaning over me.
“Rhielle’s out of her coma. I can talk with her if you need more rest. It’s only been four hours.” Thalen took a step back.
“Four hours?” I grunted, my mouth tasting like salt and bile. I pushed my hair out of my face. “You’re lying. It’s been…ten minutes at most.”
“Sorry. Four hours. Maybe a little more.” Thalen drew back and crossed his arms. “Looks like you could use another ten.”
I jolted upright, realizing I was still wearing my formal black silks from the ball. My entire being wanted to fall back into bed, but that wasn’t an option. Not until Briar was back at my side. “Why don’t you speak with Captain Finbar and follow up on the investigation, and then speak with the officiants about sending Elara information about the decisions needed for the funeral arrangements? While you handle that, I’ll speak to Rhielle.”
Thalen fought a yawn and rolled his shoulders, hinting at his own exhaustion. “That’s fine. I’ll find you when I’m finished.”
I waited for him to leave, but he stayed in place.
I arched a brow. “Are you going to insist on accompanying me while I change?”
“Do you even have to ask?” He grinned and spread his arms. “You’ll never be rid of me. At least, not until you get Copper Chaos back. At which time, I will discreetly excuse myself and leave you and your shadows to her and her shadow beast.”
I dragged my hand over my eyes again, barely registering the joke beyond his tone. “I need to dress. I was waiting for you to leave, but it seems you’d like to stay.”
Thalen turned and rushed to the door. “I need a show from someone soon, but it’s not going to beyou.” He slammed it behind him.
I rolled my eyes and went to my mirror. I dropped my glamour for a moment, needing to see how run down I truly was.
I stumbled back a step. I’d known it’d be bad, but I hadn’t been prepared for how bad.
Dark circles lay beneath my bloodshot eyes, and my skin seemed to sag. I was more than exhausted, and my appearance matched how I felt. I slid the glamour snugly back in place. I had no more time to rest and didn’t need to dawdle over my true appearance.
I bathed swiftly and scrubbed my face before putting on a black tunic, a black surcoat with muted gold embellishments, onyx iron bracers, a leather belt, a dagger, and black trousers and boots.
When I entered the healing chambers, the physicians and attendants stood to attention, and one of the gray and green-clad attendants hurried forward and gestured for me to follow her. She guided me to a smaller chamber door inset between two pillars. As we passed beneath the delicate carved stone archway, I noted its protective sigils had been marked with oils, and the air smelled more of peppermint and sage than the usual medicinal herbs.
These were the recovery rooms, which meant Rhielle had already been moved from treatment. The attendant gestured toward the wooden door carved with the healing emblem of a sheaf of varied herbs encircled by a broad gold line. The attendant rapped his knuckles on the door but pressed in at once. “The prince wishes an audience.”
I grimaced inwardly, wishing he had waited a moment to ensure she was ready for guests.
My attention went to the plush bed in the center of the tiny room. Small bruises spattered Rhielle’s face, and a deep, thick bruise with a stitched-up horizontal gash in the center marred her throat. Her long pink hair fanned over her white pillow, and her normally fair skin held a tint of sickly yellow that contrasted with the moss-green blanket. Her hands lay laced over her abdomen, and her breaths were controlled.
Her body was near motionless on the bed, and a pale green aura intended to restore and reverse life-draining attacks shimmered all around her.
The attendant bowed and stayed close to the door. “If you require anything, simply ring the bell.” He gestured to a small inset in the wall with a matching gold bell.
“Very well,” I replied, my leathery wings swaying as I moved to Rhielle’s side.
My breath caught as I noted open scrapes and cuts as well as bruises on her hands and wrists. The marks were in line with someone using death magic to reverse the healing of the past several days and weaken her. It wasn’t the same as draining her lifeblood but related to a similar tradition and skillset. It was a coincidence I disliked intensely. If not for Rhielle’s defensive shadow magic, she would have died. Had someone been trying to harvest her magic?
Her magenta eyes met mine, and her pupils seemed to fade marginally at the edges until they nearly blended with her irises. “Your Highness, I didn’t expect a personal visit.” Her brow furrowed, and she bowed her head in respect. Faint vestiges of dark purple shadows wisped around her body.
I’d never noticed them before, but they were clearly manifestations of her magic. Had the vesting of the Shadow magic granted me the ability to see them, or had her magic changed in some way? Or were they evidence of the magic working to mend her body?
My head throbbed, reminding me of my own limitations. I cleared my throat. “I am pleased to see you conscious again. Your experience must have been quite harrowing.”
Needing a moment to collect my thoughts, I stared at the flames of the pillar candles burning on the table across from me and took a deep breath. The room smelled of plums and red tea, though I didn’t see a telltale mug, so she’d likely been given nourishment earlier.
“It was.” She clenched her jaw and glared at me. Though she’d been near death’s door, it seemed she had scorned it. “Lately, almost dying has become something of a pastime."
“What can you tell me of your attacker?” I folded my arms.
“He was a cowardly asshole in a dark cloak with stronger magic than spine. Could have been a dark gray cloak; could have been black. I couldn’t tell.” She twitched her shoulders, then winced. “I checked my room before I went to sleep, since I’d been attacked in the night before. I thought everything was secure, and I went to sleep. Then I woke up, and before I even opened my eyes, I sensed a presence stirring by my bed. My shadow shield erupted on instinct, but something cold spread over me—something in the air. The wound in my throat opened, and it felt like every cut, scrape, and bruise I’d gotten in the past six months came back. It was…almost too fast. It choked me. I couldn’t breathe. Could hardly see anything because my eyelids froze shut. My shield only worked because I’ve practiced it so much it’s like muscle memory.”
