The hand slipping into hers stole her breath entirely.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EMMERY
That night and the following day were a whirlwind of people in and out, healers and whispers and letters tied to crows that carried word of the news. Emmery paced, her eyes aching from the sleepless night and palms as sweaty as the rest of her.
Because Fionn was awake.
She’d run to the healers the moment Fionn’s cold, clammy hand slid into hers. While both Destonne and Brennen were inside the room, she loitered outside, willing herself to cross the threshold, though her limbs wouldn’t move.
Later when Destonne left the room, he wore his same bored expression. He gave Emmery a brief glance and asked if shewas alright, before he strutted off, likely to attend to their plans for tomorrow’s leave. When Brennen stepped outside moments later, she swore tears stained his fur, if wolves could even cry.
Briar sent word she’d arrive in two days' time. Unfortunately, Emmery would be gone by then. The thought of abandoning Fionn knotted her insides and left a tangle of conflictions.
As she paced outside his door later that evening, she wrung her hands and gnawed on her cheek. Questions overwhelmed her to the point where her breathing faltered. She sank back against the wall and slid to the floor.
The healers had been in there allday. Alldamnday.
Impatience simmered in her veins and she stared at the door while part of her screamed to retreat to her room and hide under the covers. Because while Fionn may have answers for her about Shade, she may not like some of those truths, especially about their time together. If they had ever truly been friends. The reason for leaving her there. All of the things she’d laid awake at night asking herself. They clawed up her throat until she couldn’t speak at all, and she sat there mute while she absentmindedly stroked Aera’s fur.
As the pot-bellied healer exited the door and found her in the same place, he crouched in front of her and said, “You should go in. He’s been asking for you all day.”
Emmery blinked incredulously. “He’s been asking for me?”
Surely out of guilt. It had to be out of guilt.
The healer nodded. She really needed to learn his name, but inquiring at this point seemed awkward. Maybe she would get it from Brennen later.
The man patted her shoulder and stood, then left her to stare at the closed door; the barrier between her and the answers that could change everything.
So, Emmery gathered herself, hauled to her feet, and pushed open the door. Aera wove between her ankles with each step.
Inside, Fionn sat up against the headboard, his raven black-hair wet from a recent bath and neatly combed. He wore a clean cobalt blue tunic, a colour she associated with him—that and the warm bronze of his eyes.
His gaze locked on her and Fionn smirked with that infectious crooked joy that reached inside Emmery and drew her toward him. She forgot every possible reason not to climb on the bed and throw her arms around his neck, which is exactly what she did. Fionn returned her embrace with just as much enthusiasm, though his arms were still frail from disuse. Aera leapt onto the bed too, snuggling at Fionn’s side as Millie curled herself around the bedpost and watched.
Then Emmery was sobbing and, gods, she couldn’t stop if she tried. She cried as if her tears were a river and the sea reversed into it.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Fionn murmured, his voice that same light suave tone though a hint of roughness clouded it. Emmery pressed her face into his neck and inhaled his scent of leather and oak, sturdy and warm. “I missed you,” he added, the words a rasp, bloated with emotion.
Emmery’s breaths shook. Good gods, she needed to get a hold of herself. She swiped a hand across her wet eyes and snotty face. “I thought you were dead. And then, gods, Fionn I thought you were goneagain.” Because it was true. She thought he’d died in the war first and then when she found him again here in Destonne’s castle, she feared he might never wake up.
“No, I’m still kicking. Seems I’m not done here yet.” He looked her over thoughtfully, and his brows pulled together. “You seem different, Em.”
“It’s been almost a century, so I would hope so. But you look exactly the same.” It was like a single day hadn’t passed. It seemed he aged as she did.
“It’s that new beauty routine Dez has me hooked on. What’s it composed of again? Oh right, tears of my enemies and souls of the innocent. Keeps the skin taut and fresh.” He swept a hand dramatically across his chin and Emmery choked out a laugh.
“Maybe I need to get onto the beauty regime.”
Fionn studied her like a strange new species he’d stumbled upon. “I almost didn’t recognize you but it could be the goron root they have me on. Has me a bit loopy, I think. When you first walked in, I could barely focus on you. You were this golden-silver blob.”
“How flattering.” Then her stomach churned. “Also is that safe?” She glanced at his side table, which was littered with all sorts of strange herbs and varied concoctions. She’d overheard the healer speaking of gorron root used as a pain suppressant, but with Fionn’s affliction, was it the best for him to have access to such a large supply? Emmery bit down on her bottom lip, not wanting to overstep. Not with the delicacy of the tightrope between them. She was already teetering as she sat back on her heels, and questions nearly tumbled from her mouth.
“It’s safe, Em. I can’t gorge myself on it if that’s what concerns you.” He gave her a pointed look. “And the healer specifically said no risky substances for at least two weeks.”
While it was clearly a joke, Emmery couldn’t laugh. She gave his shoulder a shove before she thrust a finger in his face. “Don’t youeverdo that again. I mean it, Fionn. If you touch that damned bone ash again, I’ll kick your ass. And Briar already has a reservation to go first.”