The Reckless Reign (Book 3, The Culled Crown Series)

Chapter 33

Guest Rooms.
Reubinon Palace, Pellarmus.
Two days after the attack.

I awoke after the attack, bleary-eyed and afraid. Heidi was in the room, her body slumped in a chair at the foot of my bed. The king of Pellarmus stood out in the hall, his body only a shadowy figure in the crack of the door. I watched, my eyelids heavy, as he conversed with a healer. His posture was stiff, his voice sharp and low. Erydi. My language, not his.

It was early morning and the room was lit only by watery sunlight—as if even the world outside this bedroom was aching. The fire in the hearth had burned out and judging by Heidi's parted lips and uncomfortable-looking propped up position, it had been a long night. But I was here.

I was alive.

Which was honestly a strange thing—when I'd been so certain I was dying. Thinking back to that moment before I lost consciousness, I found that I wasn't as afraid of it as I'd thought I would be. But I hadn't hurt then the way I hurt now. Back then, the pain had been dull.

Now I felt like I'd been kicked by a horse. My body was raw and cut to ribbons. The warm numbness that lingered after Nadia's healings was missing, so I knew that however long had passed—it had only been my body healing me. I couldn't decide if that was good news for Cohen or bad news. If Nadia was with him, then I had to believe he was still alive.

I didn't know what it meant for Leighton. I'd seen neither of them after the shots had been fired. I'd been taken to the infirmary before the soldiers had even removed them from the beach. But someone had mentioned Cohen's name during those first few moments—as the healers had put me on the table and pressed blood-slick fingers to my skin. I remembered the hope hearing it had given me.

I clung to that same hope now, as if it alone could keep me afloat.

For a long time, I just lay there listening.

The prince was still in critical condition, the healer was saying to Darragh. I was surprised to find that she was Erydian, or at least she spoke the language fluidly. Her voice was calm—too calm to be delivering the sort of grave news she was.

Tonight, she told Darragh, would make the difference. If he could pull through, then he might be past the worst of it. I couldn't hear what the king said in response to it, the words were too quiet and I was too dazed to understand, but I registered the cutting edge to his words.

Cohen dying wasn't an option as far as Darragh was concerned. The Erydian prince was valuable. He needed to stay alive. But as I lay there listening, I wondered about what that meant. Yes, Cohen was valuable. Valuable to Britta. Valuable in a potential war. Did Darragh care about Cohen because he was his new brother-in-law or did he only care because he needed Cohen to assist him with overtaking Erydia?

I was too tired for that line of questioning.

There was movement out in the hall, more voices—the creak of metal wheels.

Exhaustion weighed down my eyelids and I tried to settle myself enough to sleep. Everything hurt—a dull throbbing sensation that echoed my heartbeat. But, despite my body's need to rest, I found that I was wide awake, my anxiety too high. My heart pounded and it took everything in me to lie still and not try to sit up.

I wanted to know what was going on.

I wanted to know if my friends were okay.

Darragh was still deep in conversation with the healer and neither seemed aware that I was awake. That was good, I thought. Good, because I couldn't imagine trying to speak. Even if I did want answers. Even if I was afraid for my friends. The idea of trying to form words was beyond me.