Dark Prince & the Doe

Chapter Twenty-seven: The Blue Flame Always Takes Her Due

Chapter Twenty-seven: The Blue Flame Always Takes Her Due

Calden

It was too hot. Calden's body burned uncomfortably. Every pulse of blood throbbed painfully up his neck and into his aching head. Every breath was like inhaling shards of glass. He smacked his dry lips together – they tasted of blood. Was he hungover? He couldn't remember drinking last night? Did he get into a fight?

He wracked his sore, groggy brain, trying to remember what he'd done but it was a complete blank. All he could remember was giving the speech and then...oh right, bone shattering agony. He cracked his gritty eyes open. Blue crystal lamps lit the room, set to their dimmest setting. Various pillows had been used to prop him up in bed.

All of the furniture from his central room had been dragged into his bedroom. Kiren was splayed across the entire couch. One of Calden's fur cloaks was cast over his narrow body like a blanket. His long black hair hung in tangled waves off the armrest of the couch. Prusen was snoring in an armchair, a grey woven blanket in his lap and a smear of dried blood across his cheek. Gale was curled up like a boulder in a pile of Calden's shirts on the floor. And Larken was in a wooden chair, his body draped over the end of Calden's bed where he must have collapsed from exhaustion.

Nocturn was the only one who was awake – as usual. He was leaned against the wall, holding a letter directly under a lamp. The blue light cast half of his features in shadows. Still and menacing, as if he'd been carved from stone. Calden used his elbows to push himself further upright into a sitting position. Pain whizzed through his body like electricity. He hissed through his teeth and relaxed back into the pillows.

Larken's shoulders moved, his hands uncurling from the blankets. Nocturn turned his sleepless gaze Calden's way, his bare feet were the quietest whisper of wind as he approached the bed like a wandering spirit.

Larken rubbed at his sleepy eyes with the backs of his hands. His palms and fingers were covered with blood. "How do you feel," Larken rasped, his voice hoarse. He must have enchanted a lot to lose his voice like that.

"I feel," Calden exhaled quietly, his ribs protesting, "like shit."

"Better than cold in the ground," Larken grumbled as if Calden had been criticizing all of his very impressive hard work.

"Thanks."

"How could you do this to us again?" Nocturn asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sorry," Calden croaked, unable to look Nocturn in the eyes. "I don't know what happened."

"No one enchanted against you, so don't use that excuse. I know a cost come due when I see one. And the Blue Flame collected it very publicly. Want to tell me what you bought from her that was worth shattering your body over?" Larken's voice was getting louder and faster. "You had four broken bones that pierced right through you and countless fractures. One of your broken ribs punctured your lung. You nearly drowned to death in your own blood. Your spleen ruptured. If this price had been collected when you were alone, you'd have been dead!" The room rumbled. Dust fluttered from the ceiling as all the lamps flared brighter.

Kiren startled awake with a squawk and tumbled from the couch, landing atop Gale. The two of them swore and swatted at each other as they struggled to get to their feet. Prusen's moan of annoyance morphed into an enormous toothy yawn as he too woke up. Now they were all staring daggers at Calden.

Calden didn't even know what he'd enchanted that would have come with such a steep cost. Unless...someone had tried to kill the princessa. The Quick True Protection was the only logical explanation. But what sort of weapon or enchant would have resulted in so much broad physical damage? The princessa would have died instantly on killer's first attack if not for his protection. If the attacker had gotten in a second blow, she could be dead at this very moment.