Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(60)

Footsteps reverberated down the hallway. I turned, expecting to find Daella walking toward me, unable to sleep, just like me. But something heavy and hard slammed into my skull.

My knees buckled as darkness took me.





25




DAELLA





A wet nose nudged my arm, but it was the stab of pain that woke me. I opened my eyes just as Skoll bounded onto the bed. My skin still burned from where he’d shoved his snout on me, but a quick rub of the blanket and it was fine. I closed my eyes and started to drift back to sleep. Until he started whining.

He paced across the quilt, bits of his dark gray fur floating through the air. The volume of his whine increased as he suddenly went still and stared at me with those luminous eyes.

“Skoll, what’s wrong?” I asked, before throwing my legs over the side of the bed.

My worst fears rushed through my mind. Somehow, Isveig had arrived in Wyndale, and he was locking every single person here in chains. He would drag them back to Fafnir and throw them into the hot, humid dungeons beneath the castle. They’d never again see daylight.

But no, that couldn’t be right. I knew his scent as well as I did the Draugr, and I would smell him the second he stepped foot on this island. I took a sniff of the air and only found smoke.

“Fire.” I ran to the door, barefoot, and followed the scent into the hallway. Around the corner, orange flames danced. Skoll’s paws pounded the floor behind me as I raced into the living space. Flames engulfed the parchment on the desk, and Rivelin was lying face down with a trail of blood snaking across the floor.

“Fuck.” I fell to my knees and placed the back of my trembling hand against his cheek. Steam hissed from the contact, and a groan rumbled from his chest.

I blew out a breath of relief and sat back on my heels, trying to understand what had happened, but the crackle of flames drew my attention once more. The fire had spread to the wall. Soon, it might engulf the entire room.

I ran into the kitchen for some water. By the time I’d returned, Rivelin had rolled onto his back and was staring up at the ceiling with a very familiar, very distinct scowl. Skoll was licking his cheek, still whining.

After I carefully doused the flames, I returned to Rivelin’s side and got a look at the wound on his forehead. A purple bruise had formed, swelling up like a stone. There was only a small gash in the center of it, and the blood had already started to slow. I heaved out a very long sigh.

“You look like you’re about to cry,” Rivelin muttered.

“Why would I cry? This is a perfectly normal way to be woken in the middle of the night. A fire, a little blood, an unconscious blacksmith. What’s the problem?”

Rivelin coughed out a laugh, then groaned. “I can’t believe you’re making a joke at my expense.”

“I can’t believe you set fire to some parchment and then…what, exactly, did you do? Run into the wall?”

Rivelin winced and started to sit up, but I was there by his side before he made himself pass out again from expending too much effort too soon. I slid under his shoulder and hooked my arms around his back. Slowly, he climbed to his feet, his formidable weight bearing down on me. He teetered for a moment, clearly struggling more than he wanted to admit. Before he could object, I helped him over to the sofa and gently tried to sit him down. The way he landed on the cushions was anything but light, however.

For a moment, he just sat there blinking. Skoll had abandoned whining for frantic sniffing around the spot where I’d found Rivelin.

“Your vacant stare is beginning to worry me. Is there a healer in the village?” I finally asked.

“There’s an apothecary down the road, but she won’t have anything to help this. I’m just stunned and dizzy.”

“From what, Rivelin? You still haven’t told me what happened.”

“I got hit on the fucking head.”

I frowned and joined him on the sofa, folding my bare legs beneath me. “What are you talking about? Someone was here? In the house?”

“I was looking at my desk, and then I heard footsteps. Thought it was you, of course. Turns out some bastard came into my home and took a hammer to my head.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Did you get a look at their face?”

“No.” He blinked again, and I frowned.

“You need to lie back and close your eyes. I’ll get you some water and a cold compress for your head.”

“That will hurt your skin,” he said roughly.

“I can manage.”

As I stood to go, he reached out and grabbed my hand. “Daella, were you using my parchment and ink to write a letter to someone?”

I bit the insides of my cheeks. So that was why he’d been looking around his desk when the intruder had attacked him. He’d noticed, though I could have sworn I’d put everything back into its rightful place.

Rivelin cracked open his eyes when I didn’t immediately reply. His gaze scanned my face, and then he sighed. “You did. Are you going to tell me to whom you were writing? Because from everything you’ve told me, I didn’t think you had a friend back in that shit city you’ve been trapped in all your life.”

A familiar set of walls rose around me, protection from him and everyone else I’d ever faced. What would he do if I told him the truth? Would he even believe me?