I strip the wet layers of cloaks off of Auren. I toss them both to the floor, clumps of ice breaking as they land, water puddling beneath them. I’m thankful to find that her dress beneath is damp but not soaked-through, only small pebbles of snow stuck to the hem. I quickly yank the blankets off the back of the sofa and pile them on top of her, tucking them in tight around her body.
A soft orange glow begins to light up the house, and I waste no time pulling the sofa forward, its legs screeching in protest as I drag it across the floor and settle it right in front of the fireplace. I can hear Ryatt moving around the room, lighting sconces as he goes, trying to ward off the chill.
I hold my hand in front of her parted lips, feeling Auren’s breath come out slow and steady.
“Auren?”
I’m not expecting a response, but I’m filled with disappointment nonetheless. The only way I can swallow the dread is to keep moving, keep doing, so I remove her sodden leggings. Then I check her fingers and toes, cupping them in my gloved hands to blow warm exhales on them. I don’t care if her power did kick in now that it’s morning. I need to warm her up. When I’m satisfied with their temperature, I cover them in the blankets once again and then gently wipe the frost from her hair.
“Why isn’t she waking up?”
I hadn’t heard Ryatt walk up behind me, but my shoulders tense at his question. I glance at her face, while something cold writhes in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t know.”
Both of us watch her, chest rising and falling, the crackle of flames crowning her skin with an orangish hue.
“Auren.”
My call brings absolutely zero movement from her.
I hear Ryatt step away, and then a clanging in the kitchen draws my gaze. I peer past the archway where he’s now standing in front of the iron oven, just barely visible from this vantage point. Its front grate is already closed and glowing with fire as he works over a pot that’s sitting on top of it. Outside, the storm is growing wilder, the hollows of the cave echoing with the wind’s cries.
Turning back to Auren, I tap into my power again, but just like before, I see that last grain of rot inside of her, and it won’t budge. I can’t even get a grip on it anymore. It’s embedded into her like a seedling taken root. Yet her essence is as pure as before, the inner workings of her body just as it should be. Aside from that single fragment, she feels the same.
So why isn’t she waking up?
My brows draw together, eyes watching her serene face while worries assault me left and right. The faint, rotted veins that had crept up her neck are gone, her skin back to her usual color. She simply looks like she’s in a deep slumber.
“Auren, you need to wake up.”
Of course she doesn’t listen. She never listens to me. Always argues, always has a simmering fire just beneath the surface, which I fucking love.
“Wake up and argue with me, Goldfinch.”
I watch her placid face for another moment before I turn and slump to the floor beside her. Balancing my back against the sofa, I draw up my knees so I can brace my elbows on them. I scrub my hands down my face, feeling exhaustion tugging at my limbs like knotted strings.
Reaching down, I tug off my wet boots, tossing them onto the hearth before yanking my gloves off and holding my palms up to the flames. I don’t feel their warmth.
I think I’m too frozen through with fear.
I’m still staring into the flames, still not feeling a thing, when the front door suddenly bangs open. I’m on my feet in a second, ready for some unknown attack, but when I see two sopping wet figures hurry inside and slam the door shut behind them, I pause.
I look at Lu and Digby incredulously. “What are you two doing here?”
Lu tosses back the hood of her cloak, breathing hard as she holds Digby up, the guard’s arm slung around her shoulder while rain and ice sluice off them. “He insisted on staying with Gildy Locks. Pitched a fit back there until I agreed to follow you and take him along.”
I cast the surly man a look, but he just scowls at me, making a puddle on the floor. Despite his glare, he looks like he’s about a second from tipping over. “I stay with her.”
“Fine,” I say with a sigh.
Digby blinks, like he’s surprised I relented so easily, but I want what’s best for her, and I know Auren would prefer for him to be nearby anyway.
With Lu’s help, he hobbles over to come look down at Auren, a frown forming between his brows as he takes her in. “She never woke up?”
“No.”
Clearly, Digby’s temper hasn’t been cooled off by the winter storm, because his eyes blaze just as angry as before. “This never should’ve happened,” he growls. “You’re supposed to be something to her? You supposedly care?”
My hands curl into fists. “Of course I fucking care.”
“Well, why’d you let this happen then?” he challenges, but it’s nothing that I’m not already repeating to myself. “You’re supposed to be the most powerful king in the world, right? So do something.”
If only I fucking could.
“She just needs to rest,” I say again, all the anger bled out of my tone.
He stands there, dripping and seething, his cheeks wind-chapped and nose red from the cold.
“Come on. You saw her, and Slade’s right. She needs to rest.” Lu starts to pull him away. He only resists for a second, looking down at Auren one more time. Then he turns, letting her lead him toward the corridor that goes to the back of the house where it branches off into several bedrooms. “Let’s go raid Osrik’s room. I’m sure we can find something for you to wear.”
When their footsteps fade, I watch Auren again, but she only lies there, still as a corpse. The one thing that keeps the wild fear from exploding out of me is the fact that I can see her golden aura hovering around her silhouette. It’s still weak. Lackluster. But it’s there, so I hold onto that scrap like a single thread holding up a boulder.
She just needs to rest.
It’s a mantra playing in my head.
She used too much power. It drained her, almost to the point of death. Yet what concerns me even more is that she used an entirely different facet of her power that she’s never even tapped into before. Who knows what kind of toll that took on her?
“Here.”
I look to my right as Ryatt walks up, holding out a steaming mug. Taking it, I peer inside to find some watery broth with a few bits of onion and celery roots tossed in. “It’s all I could scrounge up this quickly,” he says with a shrug. “We’ll need to go to the Cellar tomorrow.”
I toss the drink back, not tasting it save for the heat that burns my tongue and swims into my hollow stomach.
Ryatt drinks his own much slower, and I can feel his dark green eyes watching me. “What?” I ask.
“This hasn’t ever happened before.”
I look down at Auren’s face. “No. It hasn’t.”
“Not to sound like a jackass, since I’m sure you’ve already done this, but you can’t just...get the rest of the rot out of her?”
“Unfortunately, you do sound like a jackass, because I fucking tried.”
“What’s different?”
Setting the empty cup on the wooden mantel, I brace a hand against the dark wood, head hanging as I look at the flames. “I don’t know. Maybe I was too forceful when I used my power on her in the first place. Or maybe I left it too long inside of her.”
“Is it...I mean, have you ever left rot inside someone before?”
I shoot him a look. “Obviously I have. When I wanted to kill them.”
He waves me off. “I mean someone you weren’t trying to kill?”
“No,” I spit out, grip squeezing the mantel hard enough to make the wood creak in protest. “My rot follows my direction. It’s never fucking done this.”
I don’t understand it. Even now, I can sense that it’s there, but I can’t grip it. I can’t call it back to me. It’s not answering to me.
“Will she wake up?”
Rage has me spinning with a snarl on my face. “Of course she’s going to wake up!” I shout, the skin along my arms bulging, spikes threatening to break out. “Fuck you for even asking that.”