Chapter Nineteen

The bedding tangled at my feet annoyed me. I was cold and it was frustrating that succour was so close, and yet unattainable. Someone applied a wet cloth to my forehead. The water running down my face burned like acid.

Dark hair fell across my face as the bedclothes were drawn up over me.

“Akyran?”

“No,” Daerton was amused. “But you can call me that if it makes you feel better.”

“F-k you,” I said without heat. Everything ached. I shook with the cold. Fever, I assessed. A bad one.

“Oh, come now, princess, is that any way to speak to your devoted nursemaid?”

“Am I dying?”

“Not on my watch, Ecaeris,” he promised. “Go back to sleep.”

Dreams and nightmares interspersed with moments of lucidity. I could hear the echoes of my screams in the room, and found my bedside crowded with people: Fae. Their hands were linked, murmuring incantations. My mother was amongst them, and Daerton, looking exhausted, stood at the foot of my bed