Without hesitation, Nathaniel strides up the porch steps, the impact of his boots on the wood striking through me.
He trusted me to keep him safe from the glitter field when we fell from the sky, but he’s never taken a risk like this before. I sense his simmering anger as he approaches the top step and recklessly strides onward.
Closing my eyes as he steps into the sea of bulbs, I brace for the explosion.
Chapter 7
Quiet whispers rise up around us like far-off voices calling our names.
I open my eyes as Nathaniel stops in the middle of the porch.
Light dances across his chest and face, reflected off the glassy surfaces of the glitter bulbs as they lift up and float in the air around us like gentle bubbles.
To my surprise, Nathaniel is watching me instead of our surroundings. His expression has softened, the hard edges of his gritted jaw easing, his shoulders relaxing. “How many times will you save my life, Aura Lucidia?” he asks.
“As many as it takes,” I say, exhaling my fear.
Releasing me from his gaze, he raises his head, his focus shifting to the glitter bulbs. One of them drifts up to my eye level. Colors swirl inside it, shapes taking form only to quickly vanish, leaving misty shadows behind.
“I didn’t bring them here,” I say.
“I know you had nothing to do with this,” he says. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, I need to get you inside.”
Carefully and quietly, Nathaniel picks a path through the bulbs until he reaches his door and nudges it open with his boot. Some of the glitter bulbs spill inside the hut as he turns to enter sideways and carry me through the opening.
The silence behind us is thick. I can’t see very far back now, but the humans are no longer shouting. They are quiet instead. Shocked, I guess, that nothing happened. No doubt relieved, too.
As Nathaniel nudges the door closed, a final bulb floats inside before the lock clicks and we’re alone again. Yesterday, he told me that Mathilda placed a spell on this hut at his request so that nobody could enter without his permission. Hopefully, the additional spell she placed around the hut this morning will keep the humans away from the porch. Even if Nathaniel walked unharmed through the bulbs, that doesn’t mean anyone else can.
He carries me to one of the kitchen chairs, awkwardly dragging it out from the table with his boot before easing me onto it. He positions me so I’m sitting with my left arm to the chair’s backrest. His mother’s pelt is slung over the chair where I left it, a soft surface against which I can lean.
I sigh as I drop my head to the top of the backrest, feeling safe for the first time since we left this hut yesterday.
Nathaniel quickly pours a glass of water and raises it to my lips. I take it from him one-handed, managing to drink all of it before he passes me some dried fruit, followed by some day-old bread. He tells me to chew slowly. He keeps refilling my glass until I’ve drunk as much as I need, and he also eats and drinks, promising as he swallows, “I’ll make sure we get some proper food soon.”
Finally, he kneels in front of me again, stroking the strands of my white hair from my face. My hair is coated in a film of sweat and dirt, the scent of death thick in my senses.
His hand pauses on my cheek. “I have to fix your arm now.”
I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment. “I know.”
“It won’t hurt. I promise.”
I give a short laugh. “You said you’d never lie to me.”
“Do you think I’d start now?” He arcs his eyebrows at me in a challenging expression, Shifting forward, he eases his palm around to the back of my neck. His thumb strokes the aching spot at the base of my neck, easing the sore muscle there.
Despite how much his touch soothes my pain, I’m wary, narrowing my eyes at him.
A small smile lifts his lips. The challenging light grows in his eyes. “Does this hurt?”
“No,” I say, still guarded.
His thumb lowers, but only by an inch, slowly working down the side of my neck. “What about this?”
“You know it doesn’t hurt,” I grumble, my accusation only half-hearted.
The corner of Nathaniel’s mouth twitches up. He slowly leans in and brushes a kiss across my lips, a tingling contact, before he rises from his seat.
My eyes fly open as he circles around behind me. I’m not sure what he intends to do and every part of me is suddenly on edge.
“Trust me,” he whispers, dropping a kiss on the top of my head before he reaches for the clasps down the left side of my armor. He’s watched me either peel the armor off myself or do it up multiple times, so he knows how it works.
I relax when he doesn’t touch my joint. Instead, he carefully opens the armor across my back, but only to expose my skin. Easing my hair aside, he gently kneads the muscles down the left-hand side of my spine, easing down to my lower back and over to my right side, working his way slowly upward but remaining close to my spine. Now that he’s positioned behind me, I can’t tell if I’m glowing at his touch.
His hands soothe the screaming muscles all of the way from the small of my back to the base of my neck. He doesn’t deviate from that path, simply working his way back down. Then up again all of the way to the base of my neck.
I shiver when he drops a kiss on my bare skin beneath my left shoulder blade.
I hear the smile in his voice. “You couldn’t scrub this one off.”
His family name is painted across my left shoulder as well as across my heart.
I stiffen a little. “Hagan said I dishonored you.”
The smile doesn’t fade from his voice. “That’s a human law. You’re not human, remember?”
He’s trying to ease my worry the same way he’s easing my muscles, but it won’t work. “He said it was up to you whether or not we’re still married,” I say.
Nathaniel trails kisses down my spine, seeming unfazed by the question in my voice. “Aura… beautiful woman… the choice will always be yours.”
“Then we’re still married.” I relax again, leaning against the chair while his hands pass across my ribs, slowly easing across all of the muscles of my back, one hand finally kneading the spot beneath my right shoulder blade while his other hand slowly clasps my right hand where it rests against my side. His thumb presses into my palm, easing across each of my fingers and moving on to my wrist.
Inch by careful inch, he works his way up my arm, along my forearm and then my bicep, firm enough that I can feel his touch beneath the sleeve of my armor. He works his other hand along the ridge at the top of my shoulder until his hands meet in the middle across my shoulder.
He promised me it wouldn’t hurt.
It doesn’t.
My right arm gently lowers away from my back, slowly shifting to my side into a more natural position.
“Easy, Aura,” he whispers, planting kisses up the side of my exposed neck. “Not too fast or your muscles will tense up.”
He shifts again—without taking his hands from my back—so that he’s kneeling at my right side. Gradually bending my arm at the elbow, he guides my arm forward the slightest distance while he continues to knead at the muscles across my shoulder, until I can rest my hand on the top of my right thigh.