“The Casters are gathering them up. They’re fine.” With his heavy stride, he tore across the ballroom floor. “You’re the one in need of aid.” He knelt by my side. The ballroom wobbled. Long cracks formed in the stone floor. Some of the Royals screamed as they shoved one another aside in the rush to escape. Rowan’s gaze met mine. The intensity in his green eyes was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. “I know you’ve every reason to turn me away. Let me help you.”
The rest of the chaos faded away until there was just Rowan and me. Yes, he was a lying bastard. Even so, he’d returned to ensure I was safe, and I believed he felt something for me. Maybe I still did for him, too? Mother Superior always said that people think anger is the opposite of caring. That’s not the case. Indifference, not hate, is the opposite of love. And I did not feel indifferent to Rowan. Talk about a confusing relationship.
“Please, Elea.”
Suddenly, my plan to bleed out in defiance of Rowan seemed a little ill conceived. “All right.”
Rowan heaved the wooden beam off my leg. Agony ripped up my thigh. I hissed in a breath through clenched teeth. Rowan reached for my leg, and I shifted away as another kind of pain tore through me.
It wasn’t my smartest plan, but I didn’t want his warm hands anywhere near me. “Don’t touch me.”
“Your leg is crushed, Elea. You know how Caster magick works. I have to touch you to heal you.”
The ground rumbled beneath us. Plaster dust swirled through in the air.
The Tsar.
I balled my hands into fists. “All right.”
“This won’t take long. I saved up some power from my last spell.” Rowan knelt at my side and glanced pointedly at my thigh. “You remember how this works?”
I nodded. How can I forget? For the healing to work, Rowan had to touch my bare skin.
Rowan quickly pulled up my skirts and set his hands on my naked thigh. His palms were warm and rough all at once. Gods-damn him. His touch felt wonderful. His low voice rumbled an incantation. “Touch, help, heal.”
More warmth radiated out from his palms, setting every inch of my skin on fire. Only this time, the heat wasn’t painful. I pressed my lips together, stifling the urge to moan. When Rowan began lifting his hands, it took everything I had not to ask him to stop.
Our gazes met once again. This was, without question, one of the strangest moments in my already-odd life. I was in a ballroom, dressed in a bloody gown. The Tsar could break through to our realm any second. The other partygoers had rushed out toward safety while I sat here with Rowan. He ran his hand up my bare leg. “Good as new.”
I made a great show of looking at my leg. The skin was red and swollen. Still, it wasn’t the mass of broken bone and blood that I’d seen before. “Looks better.” I tried to stand and pain shot down my side. “Doesn’t feel perfect, though.”
“Give it a few minutes.” Rowan scooped me into his arms and held me against his chest. “I’ll help you reach the gardens. By the time we get there, the spell will have finished its work. You should be strong enough to both walk and cast spells again.” He pressed me closer.
A dozen emotions streamed through my heart at once. Love. Loathing. Betrayal. Gratitude. In the end, I said the only thing a girl could in this situation. “I really hate you right now.”
“You’ve every right to. Whatever you may think, I love you, Elea. I have from the first time I saw you. You need to—”
“Elea! You’re free from that horrible beam!” Amelia rushed across the ballroom floor to pause at our side. Her face glowed with joy as she rushed up to Rowan’s side. Philippe followed behind. His blue eyes were dark with anger.
Amelia grabbed Rowan’s arm. “Look, Philippe! Rex saved Elea.” She stared up at Rowan adoringly. “I told you all about her. That’s why you returned, isn’t it? To make sure my dear friend was safe?” She eyed Rowan’s hold on me. “That’s why you’re carrying her… And everything. Right?”
Philippe folded his arms over his chest. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
Rowan’s face became unreadable. For once, I didn’t mind that one bit. Right now was no time to reveal the true nature of my relationship with Rowan. I gestured toward the exit. “We need to get out of here. The Tsar might break free any minute. If that happens, this place could very well implode.”
“Now that my dear sister is certain that Elea is safe, we do need to go.” Philippe stepped closer to me and lowered his voice. “No need to discuss things that are best left in the past.”
Philippe’s meaning was clear. I should move on from Rowan and leave Amelia to her illusions.
Rowan glared at Philippe. “Some things are always in the future.”
The floor rumbled once more. Great cracks ran up the walls. A jolt of worry went up my neck. “Can we have this discussion another time?”
“Agreed,” said Philippe. A sheen of sweat had broken out along his forehead. “Come along, sister.”
Amelia gripped Rowan’s arm even harder. “My fiancée and I should go together.”
“And you’ll be sick of him soon enough,” said Philippe. “But there’s a very good reason we need to leave separately now.” He looked at me pleadingly. “Isn’t there, Elea?”
The answer appeared in a flash. “Yes, I have great news! We found Veronique. She’s out in the gardens with Rowan—I mean, Rex’s—people. She only wants to see you, though.”