“No, they haven’t,” he insists and takes another step toward me. I wonder if he’ll kiss me again. I wonder how it’ll feel with both of us sober and sensible. I’m doing a very poor job of ignoring these thoughts. “It gives me hope that you’re so fond of something from the Fade.”
“Why?”
“Because it speaks to your capacity for compassion if you could care for something of the Fade. It is a cold place.”
Cold like me, I realize is what he wants to say. If the Fade comes from the Elf King, and I care for something of the Fade, does that mean I care for him? Is that what he sees? Is that the truth?
“The Fade…” That seemingly sentient wall is a part of Eldas. “I thought the first Human Queen helped make it?”
“Yes, the Human Queen’s magic, her gift from the earth, and the Elf King’s powers bestowed by the Veil. It took both of them.”
“See, we’re stronger when we work together,” I murmur. I’m against the wall again and he looms over me.
“Perhaps you’re right.” Eldas wears a small smile and continues up the stairs. I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t know what I would’ve done if his attention was on me like that for a moment longer.
When we arrive at the laboratory, Willow is on his knees, knuckle deep in the most rigorous belly scratches I have ever seen. Hook is clearly loving the attention with tail-wagging, body-wriggling delight. “Who’s the best Hookie? You’re the best Hookie! Best boy gets his tummy scratched. Yes he does. Yes he does.”
“Oh, Hook, my fierce defender, what am I going to do with you?” I laugh and cross back to the bookshelf. Willow hardly acknowledges me. “You spoil him, you know.”
“He’s the best boy and deserves to be spoiled,” Willows says defensively. “Oh, I’ve been working on the biscuit recipe. Let’s see if we can’t find something you’ll finally eat.” Hook has had no interest in food, much to Willow’s dismay. Whatever Fade beasts eat, it’s not anything Willow has concocted. At best, Hook has politely indulged him for the sake of more scratches. “They’re right over—oh. Oh! Your Majesty!”
I glance over my shoulder to see Willow bowed at the waist before Eldas. Hook continues to lie on his back, as if satisfied by embarrassing the poor man. I roll my eyes.
“I see this is how my resources are being spent,” Eldas says, suddenly brisk again. “To make biscuits for creatures of the Fade.”
“I… Well, that’s… You see…” Willow still has yet to straighten. I can see him almost trembling.
“Leave him alone, Eldas,” I scold and step down from the stool, journal in hand. Crossing, I hand it to the Elf King. “He’s the best healer this castle will ever have and you know you’re not going to get rid of him just because he wants to spoil my wolf. Especially not when Poppy is away.”
Eldas narrows his eyes at me but says nothing. I dare to grin up at him. I can almost see him fighting a smile.
Movement behind Eldas catches my eye. Any retort I had in mind fades into a soft, “Oh no.”
Harrow is slumped against a man with long lashes and wavy brown hair. He was the quiet one with his nose in the book when I first met Harrow and his motley crew. Sirro, that was his name.
Sirro has a panicked expression as he struggles to get Harrow to the laboratory. Harrow, for his part, can barely stand. His head is slumped and every other step seems to give out with his feet dragging limply.
“What is—” Eldas turns and stops short. I see his whole body tense. The room is noticeably colder. “What is the meaning of this?” he says, his voice deathly soft.
“Harrow, he…” Sirro looks between me and the king. I’m surprised when his eyes land on me. “He told me to come here and find you.”
“Find me?”
“He said you could heal him again.”
I curse several times under my breath. I hadn’t told anyone about that day. This certainly wasn’t how I expected Eldas and Willow to find out.
“Put him here.” I point to the stool I healed him in last time. “Tell me what happened.”
“We… Well, we…” Sirro glances between me and Eldas as he continues to bring Harrow forward.
“Whatever happened, I need to know.” I can only imagine the debauchery they’ve been up to. “I can assure you the king will be much more cross if you don’t tell me what’s going on and something terrible happens to his brother.”
“You do not speak for me,” Eldas says, perhaps mostly on instinct. I stick out my chin and glare at him. “But the queen is correct,” Eldas relents. I press my mouth closed to keep it from falling open in shock. He admitted I’m correct without prodding. “And I am most interested in why my brother is in this state. Willow, you may leave.”
“Luella, do you need—” Willow tries to ask but Eldas won’t let him get a word in.
“Luella clearly does not need help if she is healing him again.” The way Eldas says the last word tries to knot my stomach, but I suppress it defiantly. I’m not going to regret helping a man in need. “Go, Willow,” he barks.