27. Dexari

Chapter 27

Dexari

The first thing I notice as I claw my way back to consciousness is the pungent scent of healing herbs. My eyes flutter open, squinting against the soft infirmary light.

Mornah's voice, laced with worry, greets me. "Welcome back to the land of the living, sire."

Hiding my disappointment at my maid rather than Sloane being by my side, I try to sit up, flinching as pain lances through my side. Mornah's firm hand on my shoulder keeps me in place.

"How long have I been out?" I ask, my raspy throat impossibly dry.

"Three sun cycles," she replies, offering me a sip of water. "You had us worried for a while there."

The cool liquid soothes my throat, and memories come flooding back. The forest. The fanghounds. Sloane. My fever. The guards. "Where is my—"

"Consort?" Mornah's lips twitch from a suppressed smile. "She has been quite...busy during your recovery."

I nearly choke on another sip of water. "Consort? Does...does everyone in the palace know that my spikes have emerged for her? That Sloane is my intended queen?"

Mornah's eyebrows rise. "The entire kingdom knows. News of this importance travels fast."

I sink back into the pillows. "Sloane has been busy? How so?"

My maid chuckles. "Well, for starters, she has turned the kitchen upside down by introducing a program to share leftovers with your less fortunate subjects. And poor Chef Groknak is being run ragged learning how to prepare all sorts of exotic Earth dishes, including something called pizza ."

I groan through a grin. "See that Groknak gets some extra time off in compensation."

"Yes, sire," Mornah says. "Much to Gorlag's frustration, Sloane has also been watching the guards' training sessions. She is not shy about offering...suggestions for improvement."

"Has he fully accepted her as my consort?"

Mornah shrugs. "That may be a stretch, although he has provided her with a guard detail, so he understands the need to keep her protected. Not that she needs it. That dragalor of hers always seems to be nearby. She even takes her meals with it in the courtyard. The maids and groundskeepers are beside themselves."

I laugh, then immediately regret it as pain flares in my side. "Sounds like Sloane."

"Oh, she has introduced a new clothing style for the female palace staff," Mornah says, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You should know that pants are now an option, sire."

I blink in confusion. "Pants?"

Mornah nods. "The human word for trousers, and your consort's preferred form of dress."

I shake my head, equal parts amused and surprised. "Anything else I should know?"

Mornah's expression turns serious. "Elder Denari has repeatedly requested a private audience with your future queen. So far, she has refused to meet with him."

My amusement fades. "I am certain that does not please him."

"It does not," Mornah confirms. "Yet Sloane wishes to wait until you are well enough to participate in what she calls a family pow-wow ."

It pleases me that Sloane is already making her mark on the palace, challenging traditions, and standing her ground. She will make a formidable queen.

"Help me get dressed," I say, pushing myself up despite the pain. "I need to see her."

Mornah's disapproval is palpable. "Sire, you have only just woken up. You need rest."

I fix her with a stern look. "It is not a request."

She sighs, shaking her head. "As stubborn as ever, I see. Very well."

She helps me into a fresh loincloth and a loose tunic to protect my wound. "You should know that Sloane has spent every night in that chair by your bedside, keeping vigil over you and hoping you would wake. She would only leave at daybreak to tend to what she calls her duties ."

I consider Mornah's words, realizing I am not quite sure how to respond. The truth is, I do not know where Sloane and I stand. Our time in the forest was intense and life-changing, yet far too brief. And our conversation was interrupted by my guards. I can assume from her actions that she has accepted her place by my side. Still, I would like to hear it directly from her.

"Where is Sloane now?"

"She should be in the kitchen," Mornah replies, helping me into my boots, "directing the servants on what to prepare for the evening meal."

"Then that is where I am going."

"The kitchen, sire?" She clucks her tongue in disapproval. "If you must, then I am going with you."

I nod, already moving toward the door, my urgency to see Sloane growing with each step. As we near the kitchen, the clamor of activity grows louder. The scent of spices and roasting meat fills the air, mingling with unfamiliar aromas that must be Sloane's doing. I pause at the entrance, my eyes scanning the bustling area for my mate.

Then, I see her.

Sloane stands in the center of the chaos, gesturing animatedly as she assists the kitchen staff in preparing the food. Her hair is pushed back from her face using some sort of fabric band, and a sheen of sweat glistens on her brow. Her clothes are marked by various cooking ingredients, and a dusting of flour covers her nose.

She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.

"She is not afraid to get her hands dirty," Mornah murmurs behind me. "The staff adore her."

Her words somehow penetrate the rumbling sounds of my own inner voice. MINE!

Without conscious thought, I begin moving toward Sloane. The servants, noticing my presence, move out of the way to let me through. Their startled gasps and hurried bows barely register.

Sloane turns, her eyes widening in surprise. Then I reach her and lift her into my arms, ignoring the protest of my still-healing wound. I capture her mouth with mine, fierce, hungry, and driven by a need that only she can sate.