Page 100 of Queen of the Night
“And you look like you were dragged through a deathstalker den,” I respond with a sassy smirk, only half-joking.
Really, though, he’s as handsome as ever, but he looks terrible.
“Feels like it too,” he mutters. His eyes linger on the stains covering my clothing before he meets my eyes again. “Did he not offer you anything else to wear?”
I feel my cheeks heat, but I lift my nose the smallest bit. “I refused them.”
There’s an unreadable look in his eyes, and I’m terrified he’s going to ask why. Am I supposed to admit that I planned to wear these blood-stained trousers forevermore in his memory? I don’t feel ready to tell him I love him, but somehow, this feels like a silent declaration.
I watch him carefully from the corner of my eye as we walk, on edge, waiting to have to explain myself. But something tellsme he might already understand. He doesn’t mention it again, just walks beside me. Pensive.
After thinking it was likely he was dead for over a week, every detail about him stands out to me now. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he’s grown even more handsome since I saw him last. My fingers twitch with the urge to grab his hand. It feels too forward. Too risky. He needs a Tulip, but is it a business deal? Or is it possible I can still salvage a romantic relationship and rebuild trust?
I want him to make the first move, but how many times can I expect that of him? I know it’s my turn now. I shut down my thoughts, and instead, I simply act. I slip my hand into his larger one, and if I surprise him, he doesn’t show it. His thumb moves across the skin of my hand with familiarity, leaving a trail of heat before he twines his fingers even tighter with mine. My heart skips a beat with how natural and right it feels.
We walk hand in hand until we reach the familiar entrance that leads to the nymph’s slice of still-lucent mountain heaven. We travel it until warm sunshine beckons from ahead, streaming through the ceiling of the cave, indicating that we’ve reached the end. Just as before, as soon as we tread beneath it, the guards step from their places in the cave walls, their weapons drawn. A familiar but still unnerving sight.
Ikar releases my hand, hands Rupi over to me, and steps forward. I frown when I watch how carefully he removes his leather armor—I’ve never seen him this way. When it’s gone, all that’s left is the white shirt he wears beneath, a portion of it drenched in a dark red stain. I stare at it until my eyes burn and my vision grows fuzzy. We’ve been running and walking forhours. Why didn’t he ask me to heal it? Why not Darvy?
I fuzzily notice him pull aside the shoulder of his shirt to show his mark, which this time, seems to satisfy the guards wellenough without entirely removing it, and they grant us entrance. I’m not sure who else they think would be tromping through this forgotten, gloam-drenched forest but us anyway.
The same nymph we met our first time here, with the flower petal clothing, leads us through the forest to Odella. Rupi wastes no time launching into the air and into the safe treetops, but I find I don’t share her same lighthearted joy. All I can think is that I want to yank Ikar aside and have an angry conversation about why he isn’t healed yet, but he and Darvy speak ahead of me in muted tones so low I can’t decipher what they say. It doesn’t feel right to interrupt, but I intend to find out.
I drop back to speak with Rhosse. “Why isn’t he healed yet?” I keep my voice low so Ikar doesn’t overhear.
“Not enough lucent. Darvy’s been working on it for days. We’re just glad he woke up.”
I’m almost afraid to ask. “…Woke up?”
“He entered the sleep of death—almost died. I’ve never seen Darvy so exhausted trying to bring him back; the originators couldn’t keep up with him.”
I swallow tightly, letting the information soak in and feeling guilt so heavy it feels as if it might strangle me for being the cause of such injuries. If I hadn’t run when I saw him at the market…stop. I shake my head to ward off the useless thoughts. All I can do is try to right my wrongs.
We are led through sunset-warmed forest, just as beautiful and dreamy as last time, but I hardly notice it. Mixed with guilt are thoughts whirling with the fact that lucent is worse than I’ve ever imagined, Ikar isalive, and I have to somehow figure out the words to tell him all my secrets soon. I remind myself that Iwantto while simultaneously swallowing a hard lump of anxiety, and also fanning irritation that he’s still so injured. Iadmit I’m an emotional mess, and lack of sleep isn’t helping. We follow the winding and twisting path, traverse the vine bridge, and finally reach Odella’s throne—the four of us looking worse for wear.
“You’ve returned,” Odella states, but I see curiosity in her eyes.
Ikar speaks, his voice sounding stronger than he looks. “We ask to rest here for a time, to recover and prepare for the return journey to Moneyre.”
He’s the high king. He could command her to give him what he wants, but instead, he asks. I take note. One more way he’s unlike the kings I was told of.
Her eyes drop to his shirt. “You’re injured.”
“Looks worse than it is,” he states simply, his face void of emotion.
Of course he says that.I almost roll my eyes. He would say the same thing if he was bleeding out and coherent enough to speak.
Odella inclines her head. “As always, King Ikar, you are welcome here. Please rest.”
She motions to a nymph so short and fragile-looking that I’m worried if I breathe too hard, it will lift her by her dandelion-seed dress and spin her through the air. She dances ahead of us with four keys that seem giant in her tiny hands, and leads us through forest that is now familiar. Andwarm. I find myself searching out spots of sunlight that sneak past the thick canopy of trees, walking in a way that I’ll pass through them to feel the heat of the sun. I’ll not take warmth for granted ever again. And while there may be barriers of my own making between Ikar and I, I’ve never felt safer than I have with these three men and amidst the land of the nymphs.
I fully expect to be led back to our rooms with thehammocks, but this time, we’re led within the largest tree trunk I’ve ever seen, even surpassing the size of some of the fae homes, which are quite grand. I realize quickly that this must be Odella’s home—her castle, of sorts.
There’s a grand entrance with beautiful wood-grain floors, and hallways made of strong branches reach far from the trunk. Nymphs of all sorts busy themselves going quietly to and fro, all bowing to Ikar as the dandelion nymph guides us through. Hardwood stairs, complete with a railing that I very much appreciate, are set against the rounded side of the trunk. They lead us upward, and we pass three more landings. On the fourth landing, we’re led down one of the hallways made within a hollowed branch. Then about midway down its shadowy depths, we climb a shorter set of stairs, and she opens a door that leads to the outside of the branch. Another bridge made of thick vines leads to another wider branch where a row of small rooms has been built atop. They are drenched in greenery, soft moss, and beautiful flowering vines, enough to distract me from the dizzying height as we cross the expanse from branch to branch.
“Here we are.” She hands us each a key, each with a different flower that matches those growing on the small huts.
I hear her say something to Ikar about us meeting Odella for dinner after we’ve cleaned up, but I’m too busy heading toward the hut with the light-blue flowers that match my key to pay much attention.
