His father? I shift under the sheets, pulling them tighter. “Why?”
But I’m so tired. So pleasantly exhausted all of a sudden.
“Sleep, Wren.” He strokes my head. “There’ll be time another day.”
Chapter 13
Sigurd’smedicineworkedwonders.I feel like I could run a marathon. Well, maybe a 5K. I’ve never been the best of runners. Sigurd is nowhere to be found when morning light crests over the mountains to spill into the room. Part of me frowns at the loss, but a bigger part is thankful. No awkward morning after—not that we did anything.
He was just being nice. That’s all.If I tell myself that enough times, maybe I’ll believe it.
My eagle friend swoops through the curtains and comes to rest on the bed. His talons pick at the cloth as he shifts on his feet. He gives a little squawk, and his head tilts this way and that as if he’s asking a question.
“I’m much better today, thank you.”
Tentatively, I reach out my hand and run my fingers along his feathered head. Like a happy golden retriever, he leans into my touch. I shake my head and smile. Ridiculous bird.
Satisfied, he ruffles his feathers and hops over to the table next to the bed. A large arrangement of white flowers spills out of a crystal vase. I blink a few times, and it’s still there. Peonies? But the violet stems spearing into the water are unlike anything I’ve seen at home.
“Who…”
The eagle plucks a card in its beak and hops over to me.
I laugh and take the card.
Thick, white paper is folded in half. I open it to reveal words so looped and fanciful that, at first, I think it’s some foreign fae language.
Wren,
I hope you enjoy these cadmum flowers. They only bloom in places that receive morning light and have plenty of water. They should be perfect by your bedside.
Warmth spreads through my chest, tingling all the way down to my toes. The note isn’t signed, but it doesn’t take a genius to know who sent me flowers. It’s not Uncle Mark’s style, certainly not his handwriting. Neither Moria nor Hawke seem the type.
“They are beautiful, aren’t they?”
The eagle squawks in agreement.
An odd feeling clings to the tattoo around my wrist, almost like there’s literally string there and someone is tugging it, but I convince myself it’s just a trick of the mind.
No sooner have I washed, dressed, and scarfed down some food in the main sitting area than Hawke and Mark join me.
My stomach drops. I promised Uncle Mark a chat. Somehow being sick in bed would be preferable. I said I’d hear him out, and he’d kept his end of our deal. But still, one good act can’t wipe away years of hurt.
“Good morning.” I force a smile to accompany my words.
Uncle Mark laughs. “I’m glad today is. I came by yesterday, but you were unwell.”
“Yeah…” I rub the pendant on my necklace. Good gracious, does he know Sigurd was with me? It’s high school all over again, with Gran scolding me for making out with boys in the driveway. “I didn’t know how strong the liquor is here.”
“My niece, a drinker. Who’d have guessed?” The question is light and playful, but all it does is remind me how little he knows.
I shrug. “I’m a bartender. Usually, I can handle a drink or two.”
Hawke raises his brows but says nothing.
The humor vanishes from Mark’s face. “Really? I’da thought you’d go to college for sure. You had the grades for it. At least you used to.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe get a fancy job in the city or something.”
Me too. I barely hold in the words.I might have if you’d stayed.