Healing Eden (4 page)

With a tiny mental push, she set the candles in her room to light. Bold colors and soft fabrics lined her closet. Some elegant gowns, but mostly tunics and comfortable leggings. Other women stuck to the old ways of formal attire, but those outfits didn’t serve well for her line of work.

She tugged on an emerald set and brushed her hair in quick, efficient strokes. What in histus was wrong with Ramsay anyway? Out of everyone in her family, Ramsay was the happy one. The playboy who wrestled panties from women with a wink and a smile. Even in battle, he’d find something to joke about. So, why was he angry? Yes, Reese had served the rebellion. Yes, Reese was hiding something. But this level of anger? It didn’t add up.

She tossed her hairbrush aside. The wood clattered against the marble countertop and muffled her frustrated huff. Was she being shortsighted? Siding with the enemy? Ramsay and Eryx were the only two living relatives she could call her own. How could she betray them by even thinking about someone who served the rebellion? Let alone fantasize about them.

She shoved the thought away and grabbed her toothbrush. She needed to check on Brenna, not piddle around in her room sulking. Eryx healing the brave human who’d saved Lexi during the battle was a gutsy move. No one knew what the impact on a human would be, and the intervention put Eryx in a tenuous place. Malran or not, violating the Myren law prohibiting intercession in human destiny was a death sentence.

A few guards nodded at her on her way to the kitchen, but most kept their gaze locked straight ahead.

So many warriors. Maxis might have gotten to their family once, but Eryx clearly wasn’t taking chances for a second bout. She’d bet there were guards stationed at her cottage too.

The scent of freshly baked bread and something sweet tempted her nose before she reached the kitchen. As she turned the corner, the warmth from the fire ovens wrapped her in a fierce hug.

“What on Earth are you doing up?”

Galena shrieked and spun. “Orla.” Galena rubbed her palm over her agitated heart and glared at the silver-haired woman. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Orla flicked her hand in Galena’s direction.

A snap of electricity shot across the room and zapped Galena in the butt. She jerked her hip to one side, more in reflex than in pain.

“Manners, Galena. Human slang from your brothers is one thing. It’s not nearly as appealing on a young lady.” She shut the pantry door with her hip and bustled to the island countertop with a fresh box of yeast. Her long hair swished free behind her, and she grinned far too brightly for this early in the morning.

Galena rubbed the sting Orla’s shock left behind. “You don’t correct Lexi and she curses more than most of the men.”

“Of course, I don’t correct her. She’s the malress. Besides, she needs to speak in a way they can relate to if she’s going to keep their attention.” She stepped around the counter and tapped Galena’s cheek. “On you, however, it’s like graffiti on a fine piece of art.”

Galena let out a sigh and leaned into the island.

Orla bustled to a cabinet for a bowl.

So much for being hungry. She’d be better off snipping thorns or yanking weeds from her garden. Why everyone put her in the classic art category she’d never understand. “Graffiti has its own beauty.”

Orla turned, head slanted in a questioning angle.

“Is something wrong?” She set the bowl aside and gave Galena her full attention. “You look a bit…out of sorts.”

Well, that wasn’t surprising. If her outsides matched her insides, she probably looked like she’d been on a five-day strasse bender.

Galena hesitated and rubbed her hands together. Orla had a warm heart and bubbly personality, but was one hundred percent old school.
“Until your brother takes a mate, you have to fill your mother’s role,”
she’d said.
“Royals set the standard. You, in particular, for our next generation of women.”

She stifled a harrumph, the sound coming out like a half-hearted sneeze. No. Orla wasn’t the best candidate for a heart-to-heart. She pushed from her perch and gave Orla a warm hug. “It’s nothing. I’m just off my schedule. I’ll be fine once the sun’s up.”

“Well, get some food while you’re here. There’s fresh bread and briash on the stove. Lexi begged me for lastas again, but I won’t start those for another few hours.” She glanced around the kitchen and patted the pockets on her apron. “Galena can you run and get my hair clip? I think I left it near the rear entrance when I came in this morning.”

Galena nodded and snagged an end cap off the loaf of bread on her way.

Yep, right on the side table near the coat hooks at the back door. She snatched it, turned for the kitchens
,
and drew up short.

The dungeon entrance loomed just ahead, sealed tight with no guards or witnesses in sight. It made sense, really. Eryx was worried about intruders getting in, not getting out. The zeolite cells had never required guards before. Why now?

Temptation wrapped around her waist and gave a none-too-subtle tug. She could check on Reese. No one was there to report she’d been by. And if he wasn’t there, what difference would it make?

No. Reese was none of her business. If Ramsay or Eryx needed her help, they’d call. She beelined it for the kitchen. “Got it. Right where you left it.” Was that too bright? Too bubbly? She laid the clasp aside for Orla and grabbed another slice of bread. “Call me when it’s time for lastas. I’m headed to check on Brenna.”

Orla barely glanced up from her dough. “Of course, dear. Let me know if you need my help for anything.”

Galena strode toward the guest wing and Brenna. This was where her time was best spent. She’d done what was necessary to keep Reese alive for his knowledge, but now her time with him was over.

She paused at the bottom stair. What if Reese hadn’t given Ramsay the information he wanted? Ramsay had been awfully angry when he left her. She backtracked, skirting the kitchen on quiet, swift feet. Two guards stood outside the rear entrance, faced away from her. Mindful of the noisy latch, she opened the door.

A dank draft swooshed her hair off her neck. Her sandals patted down the stone steps and the scent of torch oil and pitch filled her lungs.

No guards waited in the hallway, just a long stretch of cells, each with their doors closed. One slow-burning torch smoldered outside Reese’s cell.

She inched closer, fingers trembling at her sides. No sound came from the cell, at least none louder than the pound of her pulse in her head. She traced the iron latch and its chill ran clear to her shoulder. Her brothers would be livid.

She stepped back and clutched her hand at her chest. This was insane. If she did this she’d be a traitor, no different than Reese. She spun for the exit.

“Galena.”

Reese’s ragged, low voice rumbled and pulled her to a stop. Was his infection back? Had Ramsay tortured him to get his information? And how did he know it was her?

“Don’t leave.” His request barely reached her, rough and pitched with pain. “You have my vow, I won’t hurt you.”

Reese braced himself against the cell wall, his knuckles hard against the smooth, cold crystal. It had to be Galena. Warriors wouldn’t have such quiet footsteps, and they damn sure wouldn’t carry the soft, flowery scent that crept beneath the cell door. He strained his ears against the silence. His eyes stung, trained on the motionless iron latch, like his constant stare might somehow will her to lift the lever.

“I only want to talk. To thank you. I never would have set the strike free.” It wasn’t an outright confession he’d sought to end his life, but it still stung to admit. Reese shoved away from the wall. She wouldn’t open it, and he sure as histus couldn’t blame her, but at least she’d heard the truth.

Metal clunked on metal, and Reese’s heart lurched.

The door creaked open and Galena’s scent whooshed through the still widening gap. Shadows hid her face and the torchlight cast her outline in an otherworldly, gold glow. Her long tunic and leggings hugged her body in the backlight. Perfect curves. Hips made for a man’s grasp.

His throat caught on a swallow. He should say something. Thank her at least, but his jaw wouldn’t cooperate. He edged to the furthest wall, giving her space.

She took two steps across the threshold and stumbled.

Reese darted forward to catch her.

Galena gasped and jerked away, hands raised in defense.

He backpedaled. “Sorry.”

Smoothing the front of her tunic, she straightened and dipped her chin. A subtle tremor shook her voice. “The zeolite caught me off guard.”

“If you stay in it long enough, you adjust.” He motioned to the cot. “You can sit if you like. I’ll keep my distance.”

She gauged the space between him and the makeshift bed and frowned.

Hard to blame her hesitation. Few women would deem a POW and a cot a safe combination. He slid to the ground, the smooth crystal wall chill against his bare back. He drew his knees up and rested his forearms along the tops. “What time is it?”

Her tension loosened and she folded her hands in front of her, formal and a little uncertain. Though, a one-on-one in a dungeon had to rank pretty high on the scale of awkward situations. “It’s a little before dawn.” She glanced around the room. “Has Ramsay been back?”

He shook his head. “You haven’t seen him?”

She peeked at the cot again. “Not since last night.”

“I gave you my word. I’ll stay where I am. If you’d rather, I can move the cot closer to the doorway.”

Something in her demeanor shifted. A mantle of certainty settled into place just as powerful as the confidence her brothers wielded, but quieter and more graceful. She waved him toward the plain narrow bed. “I’d rather you sit on the cot and let me check your wound.”

He stood, slowly so as not to frighten her, and shifted to the rickety cot. “You’re very trusting.”

She froze halfway to him and quirked her head to one side. “What makes you say that?”

He motioned toward the still open door with his chin. “I don’t know many women who’d walk into a cell without a guard. Let alone leave the door open.”

She scowled and strode to the small side table, dragging it and the lone candle closer. “You gave your word. My instincts tell me you wouldn’t break your promise. If that makes me trusting, then so be it.”

“Ramsay would disagree.”

“I’m not Ramsay.”

“I see that.” He grinned. Hard not to with the quick fire he’d lit with their conversation.

“He’s not himself right now. We’ve got a lot to contend with between Maxis and the rebellion.” All business and matter of fact, she dropped to her knees and reached for his shoulder.

Reese caught her by the wrist before she could make contact. “You don’t have to justify his behavior, Galena. I deserve everything he gives me and then some.” Praise the Great One, she was beautiful. Earthy and sensual, but innocent too. Beneath his fingertips, her pulse tripped fast and furious. “You’re also smart. And brave. None of the warriors thought to spare me for the information I hold, but you jumped in and saved me.”

“You’re giving me too much credit.” She tugged her arm free and touched the edge of his mending wound. “I didn’t think, I just acted.”

Reese hissed and shuddered beneath the contact.

Galena jerked away. “Did I hurt you?”

Did sensual torture count? She may as well have stroked between his legs. “I’m fine.”

She frowned and leaned back in, albeit more cautious than before.

“Healer’s instinct then?”

No response.

“If not for my knowledge, then why?” he asked.

Her gaze was the only thing that shifted, a quick, sideways peek, then back on the wound, but a sweet flush spread across her cheeks. She checked the pulse at his wrist and averted her face. “Why try to label my actions? Why not just be grateful you’re alive?”

“Because it’s a temporary reprieve at best. I’ll either die in this cell, by your brother’s mandate, or at Maxis’ hand.”

She froze.

He should tell her. Ramsay was right. She’d saved him not once, but twice, and deserved the truth. “Your willingness to heal me meant something. To me, anyway. No matter what your reasons.”

With only the candle’s glow her hair gleamed more chestnut than auburn. She dipped her head and the flowery scent he’d struggled to name registered with a kick. Lotus flower. A fitting match for her exotic eyes, like water off a white, Caribbean shore.

He’d never dreamed he’d get this close to her. Not even when he’d visited the castle with Ramsay all those years ago. “I used to watch you.” Probably not his wisest confession. Then again, he’d be dead in who knew how many days. As repercussions went, they couldn’t get much worse.

Her gaze met his and her lips parted.

“It was a long time ago,” he said. “When I trained with Ramsay. Did he tell you about me?”

She ducked her head and studied his wound with extra focus. Not a yes, but not a no either.

“I didn’t come to the castle often, but when I did I’d watch for you. You were barely past your awakening. I thought you were perfect.” He cupped her cheek. “Still do.” He traced her cheekbone. “Your skin’s just like I’d imagined it. Warm. Soft.”

She leaned into his touch. Not much. Probably didn’t even realize she’d done it. Her eyes softened, lids dropping, and her hair slicked against his knuckles. “Reese.” A whisper. Nothing more.

“You see the good in me, but your brother can’t pardon what I’ve done. Nor should he. I’ll die for my actions in days, if not hours.” Was he really going to do this? Could he live with the humiliation if she refused his request?

Absolutely. He traced her lower lip and her breath skittered against his finger. “I always imaged what your lips would feel like. Will you give me that gift?”

Galena froze. “You want…”

“A kiss.” He chanced another glide along her mouth and the tip of her tongue trailed the path he left behind. “Just one.”

She swallowed and her eyelids fluttered shut as she pressed a kiss into his palm.

He braced, ready for her shutdown.

Her eyes opened and he jolted beneath the passion in her gaze. “One.” So much emotion. Need. Urgency. Fear and shame. All rolled into one power-packed word.