8. Xavier

Chapter 8

Xavier

C rossing the wards into Festia had never felt so right and so wrong at the same time. I didn't want Vale so close to the kingdom—not as unprepared as she was. By the time we reached the inn, night had fallen in earnest, the darkness of the path almost absolute.

Then like a mirage in Sandgrave, the small town appeared. None of my wounds had healed, and I knew as soon as Vale and Kian found out, I'd be in real trouble. The inn was only half-full, the proprietor happy to have extra unexpected guests. While we could have taken two rooms, the battle against the mages was too close for comfort.

"Just the one room," Kian growled, his train of thought following mine.

Two rooms were harder to secure, but if we all bunked together, there would be fewer surprises. It would be tight, and someone would sleep on the floor, but it would be far more manageable than a blade to the throat.

The Fae innkeeper blanched, the tips of his pointed ears going as red as his bushy beard. "B-but the only room fit for three is the Grand Suite. Surely?—"

Brownies were a particular lot, and ensuring a comfortable stay for all their guests was paramount, and sticking two dragon shifters in a room was usually a bad idea. Still, I would not risk Vale's life after she'd nearly died saving me. My eyes narrowed as I dropped a pile of coins on the desk.

"For your trouble. The king bestows his gratitude."

If he hadn't noticed the royal seal woven into the breast of my coat, he did then. The innkeeper's mouth unhinged for a moment before he snapped it shut, swiping the golden coins off the desktop quick as a blink.

Kian's gaze flitted to Vale, her small body half-hidden behind me. "And bring in two bathing tubs and supper."

The innkeeper was nice enough not to balk at the request. He simply blinked and snapped his fingers. "Consider it done."

Vale's shoulders were like iron, but her eyes flared at the "supper" remark. When had she last eaten? My travel pack didn't have rations, a change that would need to be rectified if Vale ever?—

I had to stop thinking of a future with her. She would not ride with me. We would not travel the continent together. She would be King Idris' Luxa, and that was if she even survived.

She had to survive.

Vale's gaze tracked every single movement, every guest, every door and window, her wary stare as sharp as a blade, like she was used to watching her own back. While most of me hated the fact she'd been forced to survive that way, it was almost a relief. She would be wary of every corner of the castle, every nook and cranny, and maybe that would keep her breathing.

The three of us were covered in blood, drawing stares from the other patrons, but the proprietor didn't so much as flinch, guiding us to the Grand Suite like his heels were on fire. Considering the small mountain of Festian gold I'd dumped onto his desk, this level of service was not only expected, but required.

I fought off the urge to grab Vale's hand, allowing her to walk behind Kian as I watched her back. She was still wearing his coat, the tails of it slapping each step as she strode up the stairs, her fingers gripping the railing as if her life depended on it. Shoulders bunched, she followed, her breaths only evening out after we reached the landing.

To hear Kian tell it, she had roared at him like she was a dragon herself. She had faced off seemingly by herself against a conclave of mages. All that, and our little Luxa was afraid of heights?

Then the innkeeper swept us into the Grand Suite, pointing out the furnishings of the room as he snapped his fingers, lighting the fire in the grate, as well as the mage lights hanging from the walls, illuminating the space. It was humble compared to the castle, but it would do for the night.

The room was separated into sections as if it were almost a home. To the far right was a small sitting area close to the now-roaring fireplace, the chairs clad in a dark-green brocade fabric too nice for a place like this. Dominating the center of the space was a large four-poster bed, the drapes drawn back. The far left held a bathing area—an uncommon feature in accommodations such as these—and finally, a large screen separating the area, offering privacy should we need it.

Two giant tubs steamed side by side, their crystal-clear water the most welcome of sights in a long time. Beside them was a stack of plush towels and three fur-lined dressing gowns. It took a second to realize that the innkeeper had exited the room, leaving the three of us cocooned in tense silence. Kian was practically climbing the walls, Vale needed to eat and get off her battered feet, and I…

Likely needed stitches.

Blood dripped from my little finger onto the rough-hewn hardwoods, the scent of it drawing Kian's sharp gaze. His growl was barely audible, but I heard it all the same. I should have healed already, and for some odd reason, I hadn't. Hissing, I eased off my coat, wondering where I should put the bloody thing. At Vale's gasp, I figured my tunic must be soaked through—what was left of it, anyway.

She shook herself, drawing up to her full height and planted her small fists on her hips. "You'll need stitches, but you need to get clean first. Gods know what was in those arrows. Kian, find me a needle and thread. And some Nightwinter berries."

Kian scoffed. "Like you're going to be the one to stitch him up? You'd probably be too afraid to hurt him, vomit all over his feet, pass out, and then where will he be?"

But I'd seen glimpses of her memories. She was iron in a tiny little package.

Vale's gaze cut to him, nearly slicing him in half where he stood. "You don't know me," she said, her voice no louder than a whisper. "You have no idea what I'm capable of. Remember that when you close your eyes tonight, dragon."

Kian opened his mouth, but if I let him needle her, we'd be here all night and I'd bleed to death. "Just get the damn thread," I rumbled, my patience fraying. "And some clothes for all of us. Something a little less royal for tomorrow. If we're walking in, I'd like to be under the radar."

"Fine," he whispered, his gaze pained as he pivoted on a heel, striding out the door to get what we needed. He only wanted to delay, his bickering a feeble stall tactic the only reason I didn't knock him unconscious.

Then Vale and I were alone, but that didn't mean she let her orders slide.

"Get in the tub so I can clean your wounds," she demanded, her small foot beginning to tap with her impatience. "Are you trying to bleed to death?"

Grumbling, I struggled to peel the tunic from my skin, the fabric sticking in places, reopening the bound wounds.

"Bend down," she urged, helping me with bits caught on the bandages.

Her gentle touch sent lightning down my spine, and when the tunic was finally off, I realized just how close we were. We'd been close all day, but something about me being half-naked in a room with a bed made everything that much more intimate.

Straightening, I stared down at those wide green eyes, the irises glowing just slightly in the light. Her lips parted, and I fought the urge to bend down and nibble on them. I wanted to taste her, and it was becoming a distant memory as to why I shouldn't.

Without me telling them to, my fingers found the end of her braid, playing with the silky hair because I had to touch some part of her.

I had to .

She'd been in my arms since dawn, but somehow it never seemed close enough. I didn't particularly care that I was bleeding, either. But she did.

Seeming to shake herself into reality, Vale backed up a step, the bubble of tension somewhat broken as she moved away from me. Immediately, I felt the loss of her, the ache settling in my chest begging me to follow.

But I couldn't follow her. I could get in the water and let her patch up my wounds.

Tugging off my boots and socks, I hissed when my bare feet touched the cold floor. Then I pulled the tie at my waist, shucked my pants, and slid into the blissfully scalding water.

"You need to get in the water, too. You're probably freezing," I said, noticing her flaming cheeks as she avoided looking anywhere in my direction.

The vein at the side of her neck fluttered with her rapid heartbeat, and I had the strongest urge to pull her into the tub with me. If she would have been within reach, I might have. My cock stirred at the thought of her slippery skin rubbing against mine. Of?—

"It's warmer than under the mountain," she replied, her gaze now firmly on the floor.

What I wouldn't give to see that flush of hers everywhere. I fought off a groan as warmth seeped into my bones, easing the aches that had cropped up since healing on my own seemed to be off the table. But I didn't close my eyes. No, the woman in front of me was far too entertaining with her blushing cheeks and avoidant gaze.

"I take it you've never been around shifters before," I teased gently, wanting to see a smile on her face just once.

Her gaze finally landed on me, those brilliant green eyes so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at her. But looking away was impossible. I wanted to soak her in.

"And when would a shifter waltz into the Perder Lucem ? Other than you two, I've never seen another magical person before. Ever."

I couldn't resist teasing her a little more. "Or a naked male before, either."

She pressed her lips together, steeling her shoulders before shrugging off Kian's coat. Her torn tunic was bloody and filthy, and still, she looked like a damn goddess. "No, I haven't. But it's not like it was a conscious choice or anything. There just wasn't time."

"Happy to be your first," I said, my mind drifting to other firsts I'd like to show her.

Rolling those beautiful eyes, she crossed her arms. "I take it shifters are a naked bunch, then? I suppose that's good to know since you'll be taking me to the king of them. I'd hate to blush and lose my big, bad Luxa reputation on the first day."

That sobered me more than anything else ever could. I had to tell her the truth before it was too late.

Her gaze landed on the water—the hue now pink with my blood. Her lips tightened as she marched to my side before she snatched the washcloth from a nearby stool and sat down. Her small hand reached into the water to wet it, and then she rubbed a thick bar of soap into the fibers.

"Lean forward. I need to get the debris out before Asshole comes back with the needle and thread. The last thing I need is more bullshit for him to gripe at me about."

And even though she was cleaning my wounds, her touch on my skin had my cock thickening despite the pain. She moved my long hair aside, the white tresses likely stained as much as my skin, and it was as if I could feel her fingers all over me. She leaned closer, abrading the cuts to make sure they were clean, but I didn't feel the pain. All I felt was her warmth so close, her breath on my skin.

I had to distract myself. If I didn't, she would be in this water with me.

Tell her the truth. Don't let her walk in there unprepared. If you care about her at all, you'd keep her safe.

Swallowing, I forced myself to calm down. "What do you know about Luxa?" I asked, hoping she'd been prepared—even if it were only in a small way.

Gently, she continued dabbing at my wounds. "Not much. Before my parents died, my mother gave me a book about Luxa and magic, but I didn't get too much into it. It all seemed like a bunch of hokum until the day I turned twenty and my magic started blooming. Had I known what was to come, I might have paid attention, but by the time they died, and I knew it was all real, I didn't want to read about the witches that were supposed to be the end of the world. Especially if it was about me."

Perfect. She knew next to nothing.

"I sort of felt like if I knew too much, it would make it worse, make it come true. Plus, I was too busy working my life away and taking care of Nyrah. There wasn't time to read about my impending doom. That was already staring me in the face."

I peered at her over my shoulder, needing her to keep talking. There was so much I didn't know about her. So much I needed to know. "Nyrah. Is that your sister's name?"

Swallowing hard, she offered a sharp nod. "She's fifteen. Smart as a whip and so stubborn. Once she puts her mind to something, it gets done. Even as a toddler, she was like that." Chuckling, she shook her head. "She never wanted to stay contained, always spoke her mind. It was all I could do to keep her from mouthing off to someone. And once she became a teenager..."

Tears filled her eyes then, and I turned fully, brushing away a wayward tear. "She'll make it out," I reassured her. "And she's young enough that even if she is a Luxa like you, it won't show. She won't be attacked in Girovia. Someone will help her."

Vale's lips curved into a trembling smile, her cheek leaning into my touch. "You think so?" Then her brows pulled together as she straightened. "Wait. A Luxa like me? I thought?—"

"It's in the blood," I replied, already knowing I'd said too much as I drew away. "A very specific bloodline spanning back centuries. If you share the same parents, she will likely be a Luxa once she comes of age."

Blood drained from her face, and she wobbled on the stool. Yep, I'd definitely said too much.

"There have been more before me, haven't there? Luxa who have tried to break the curse."

I turned back around, not wanting to meet her gaze when I told her the truth. Because she knew already. She'd figured it out just like I'd wanted her to.

So why did I feel so guilty?

"Yes," I croaked. "There have been many of them." I could feel her heart beating like a drum in her chest, the tripping pulse only stressing just how smart she was.

"I take it by your tone, they didn't make it out alive, did they?"

The searing knife of indecision tore through me. But as much as I wanted to tell her the truth, I owed my kingdom as well. I owed Idris. He'd taken the curse for all of us—he'd endured when so many of us could not. And magic was dying. He was…

I had to help him, but I didn't want her to be a casualty of this war.

Not her.

"When my king feels a Luxa emerge, he sends us out to find her. Usually, it's somewhere within our province or a neighboring one, and they are eager to serve the king. Eager for the honor, for the wealth they could bring their families, for the fame it could bring them, for the power. But in two hundred years, no one has been able to break the curse."

"So it's a death sentence," she murmured, still working on my wounds as if I weren't the harbinger of her doom.

"I think so," I said, shame tearing a brand-new hole in my chest.

"And if I can't help—if I die in the process—someday, my sister could be in my same shoes, trying and failing to do the same thing you're bringing me to the king to do?"

I didn't answer, but she didn't need me to.

"And there's no escape, is there?"

I knew her sister was the string, the carrot to dangle to get her to come with us, but I'd never intended to use her that way. But as much as I wanted to deny her words, I couldn't.

But I could comfort her—even if that meant little. I spun in the tub, reaching for her as tears swam in her eyes. Cupping her cheeks, I brought her forehead to mine. It was a custom of our kind, a way to share breath and warmth and comfort. For fateborn mates, it was a signal that their minds and hearts would always be one. For families, it was a sign of being bound through the bloodline.

Fateborn mates didn't exist anymore, the curse wiping them from our very existence, and Vale wasn't my blood, but it seemed right to touch her this way.

"Magic is dying everywhere. There's only so long he can endure this. If magic dies, so many lives will be lost. I don't want to take you, but we have to go back," I urged, trying to think of anything that would prove me wrong—that she wouldn't die as soon as the king touched her. Then I remembered what Idris had said. "The king said he felt you stronger than he's ever felt any Luxa before. Even as far away as you were. He?—"

"He spoke to me," she whispered, her swallow audible as she twisted her hands in the cloth. "In my head. Encouraged me. When Arden stabbed me, he told me you were coming. He told me I just had to stay awake, stay alive, and help would be there."

Shock had me drawing away, letting her go, staring at her like I'd never seen her before in my life.

"That was him, wasn't it? Unless I'm going crazy, and all of this is a dream, which could be completely possible."

A sinking pit of loss replaced my shame for a moment because none of the other women we delivered to the king had ever mentioned anything of Idris speaking to them in their mind. None had bragged about that sort of tie to the king.

Even though the bath was scalding, I was colder than I'd ever been. I'd been right when I told Kian that she would never be ours.

She was his already.

"I don't think you're crazy," I whispered, swallowing the sting of it all. "I think you're strong—maybe stronger than any who've come before you. There are trials coming. Trials you have to be strong for. Half the reason Kian is being such an asshole is because he thinks if he pisses you off enough, you'll survive out of spite."

Her musical laugh was just as beautiful as it was mocking, and it twisted the knife in my chest. I'd wanted to hear that laugh, but now it just highlighted that all this want in my gut would only fester.

"So, his assholery is him being kind? Go figure."

Gritting my teeth, I forced a smile, even though she couldn't see it. "That's just Kian. His main motivator is spite. It's what keeps him breathing when all else fails."

But then her laugh died. "Were you ever going to tell me? Had we not gotten attacked, would you have just let me walk in there unprepared?"

I let my gaze drift to my chest, wondering if there was actually a knife protruding from my heart or if it was simply her phantom clutch squeezing it for all it was worth.

"I was planning on it, though, I'd never had to tell any of the others before you. They all knew the risks. It wasn't until we realized you knew so little that it became obvious that part of the equation was missing. I wasn't hiding, I swear. I just?—"

Was a weakling coward who didn't know how to tell you the truth.

"I understand."

She soaked the rag in the water before squeezing it over my back, rinsing the wounds as best she could. Then she handed me the rag and soap.

"Finish washing. Hopefully, Kian will return with a needle and thread soon so I can suture your wounds."

Incredulously, I swiveled in the tub, the water sloshing over the side. "Why? I just told you I was taking you to your death, and you're still going to help me? You're still going to sew my wounds closed?"

She stood from the stool, skirting around the tub as she moved to the privacy screen. "You've saved my life twice now. I owe you one."

"That doesn't make any sense, Vale," I growled, my words hard as stone. "Why would you help me?"

Those green eyes flashed as she finally looked me in the eye. "Because I'm not going to die in that kingdom, Xavier. Not if my death means my baby sister will be on the chopping block."

Iron. She was made of iron.

"If the only way I can keep my sister alive is to break this fucking curse, then I'll do it. I don't care what it takes."

Then she moved past the screen, and I lost those eyes. And though I'd been gutted, for the first time all day, Vale's words brought me a sliver of hope.

She wouldn't die.

I'd make sure of it.