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It wasn’t what Gwen would have picked, that was for sure.
Barith helped her to her feet. She winced, her body protesting the exertion of muscles she hadn’t even known she had. Her legs tingled with pain, and she leaned on Barith’s help a bit more as she moved her feet.
“She didn’t have anything more—normal?” Gwen asked, trying to distract herself. She usually slept in old, oversized T-shirts, not silky, feminine nightgowns.
He gave a husky chuckle. “This is as normal as Levian gets.”
Gwen wasn’t surprised by that. The thought of sleeping in anything less than silk would probably offend the mage to her core. The soft fabric did feel soothing against her skin, she had to admit. And it covered her enough that she didn’t feel totally embarrassed in front of Barith.
As the prickle in her legs subsided, she turned her palms up. Her stomach churned, and a cold sweat made the silk cling to her body.
“It’s healed fast,” Barith assured her. “Those lines’ll be gone sooner than you think. The bump on your head and that little nick on your neck are already healed.”
“How long?” she asked.
“With that salve Levian made, they’ll?—”
“No,” Gwen cut in, shaking her head. The effort caused her to body to tense, and she had to breathe through the pulse of pain. “How long was I asleep?”
He let out a deep breath through his nose. Gwen braced herself. “Only three days.”
She nearly fell back onto the bed. She’d been asleep for three days?
“We thought it might take longer,” Barith admitted, as if it would make her feel better. “You being mortal and all. Levian whipped up that salve for your wounds and has been spoon-feeding you some potion morning and night. You’ve been healing pretty fast, but—we weren’t sure how long your body would need.”
She knew what he meant. Using magick had drained her. Giving Sirus her blood had taken every last bit of energy she’d had left. She didn’t regret it, but she felt it. Her body was still angry over all that she’d done. Hazy flashes of memory shifted in her head. It was hard to remember it all exactly, but the sight of Sirus—blood pouring from his mouth. That gaping, dark wound…
A jolt of nerves shot through her. “Can I see him?” she blurted, trying to take a step. She gave a groan of pain, and Barith immediately pressed her right back into bed.
“You need more rest,” he told her, his expression firm. Gwen scowled up at him, doing her best to hold in her grimace at the effort. He sighed through his nose, loose tendrils of soft white smoke dissipating around his face. “You don’t have to push yourself. Sirus isn’t going anywhere,” he said, trying to assuage her.
Her scowl deepened, and Barith crossed his giant arms over his broad chest. “You really want to see him?” he asked with skepticism.
She nodded and regretted it. Her whole neck and head flooded with dull pain.
Gwen just needed to see him for herself. To know he was okay. She imagined him laid up in his bed, still barely conscious. If she’d slept for three days with a few scratches, how long would Sirus be out of it? He’d nearly died. Even if he was immortal and healed quicker, she doubted he would heal that fast. The memory of his raw, gaping wound turned her stomach.
Barith read the determination on her face. “Fine. But not tonight,” he declared, a touch annoyed. “It’s nearly dark, and I’m sure he’s out prowling the forest. I don’t think I could find him out there if I tried. Levian would like to see you though, if you’re willing?”
Gwen blinked. “He’s in the forest?” It dawned on her then: she had no idea where they were. “He’s not—in bed? Where the hell are we?”
“Volkov Castle. It’s home to Sirus’s vampire clan.”
Her eyes went wide. This was his castle. His home.
“He was out of bed the next day,” Barith went on. “Not that I’ve seen him. He’s only spoken to Levian and Rath.” His eyes dropped to her bandaged arm. “He’ll not expect you to want to see him. Not after what happened.”
Her chest tightened, and she mindlessly ran her fingers around the bandage on her arm. She didn’t know how he could be up and moving already. Not after everything. “I want to see him,” she confirmed.
Barith nodded but seemed far from pleased about it. “I’ll give him the message.”
Gwen leaned back into the pillows, her body aching with each tiny movement. All of a sudden, a wave of nerves washed over her. What if Barith could manage to find him and give him the message and he came right away?
“I-I think I’d like to change and—and take a shower,” she stammered. She didn’t care how crap she felt; she’d been unconscious for days. Her skin was sticky, her hair was probably all kinds of a disaster, and she just felt gross. She didn’t want Sirus to see her like this.
The dragon raised an impatient brow. “I think that would require you leaving that bed.”
“I’m—fine,” she huffed. Every movement seemed to make her feel worse. The dragon clearly noticed and set her with a hard look.
