“I can help them.” I scooted to the other side of the bed and pushed the blanket off.
He rose. “Poppy—”
“I can help,” I repeated, coming to my feet. “You know I can. Why shouldn’t I?” I raised my brows when he didn’t answer. “There’s no good reason for why I shouldn’t.”
“Other than that you were just injured?” he suggested.
“I’m fine, thanks to you.” My hands opened and closed at my sides. “You know I hated not being able to use my abilities before, being forced to do nothing when I can help people. Don’t do that to me.”
“I’m not trying to do that to you.”
“Then what are you trying to do?” I demanded. “These are your people. I want to help them. Let me do that.”
“You don’t understand.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “The people here don’t know you. They don’t—”
“Trust me? Like me? I already knew that, Casteel. I don’t need either of those things. That’s not why I want to use my abilities.”
Casteel fell quiet and stared at me for so long that I braced for an argument. “Then you should get changed,” he said, turning away. “I’ll get jealous if anyone else sees how pretty your legs are.”
Chapter 17
I found myself in borrowed clothing once more as Casteel and I left the room. The heavy sweater was a deep, forest green, warm and soft, but this time, the pants were a size or two too big. Gathered around my waist with gold rope, the breeches were baggy through the entire leg. I was positive the tie was normally used to hold curtains back from a window. I felt a little foolish, like a small child playing dress-up in adult’s clothing, but I wasn’t going to complain. The clothes were warm and clean, smelling of lemongrass.
As we reached the bottom of the stairway, Casteel took my hand in his. A charge of awareness seemed to pass between our joined palms, traveling up my arm. I glanced up at Casteel in surprise.
He stared down at me, lips parted enough that I could see the hint of fangs. The amber hue of his eyes was luminous in the dim stairwell.
“Sparks,” he murmured.
“What?”
Smiling slightly, he shook his head. “Come. There is something I want to give you when you’re done with the injured.”
Casteel pushed open the door before I could further question him about what he’d meant or what he planned to give me.
People huddled around the open doors of the front entrance of the keep, staring out. Wind had blown in a dusting of snow, but no one seemed too aware of the cold air creeping in.
“What are they looking at?” I asked.
“Something unexpected,” Casteel replied, and my brows knitted in a frown.
Now beyond curious, I started toward the doors. Casteel didn’t stop me. Becoming aware of the Prince’s arrival, the people parted, bowing at the waist, their pale faces and distracted gazes returning to the outside.
Walking forward, I saw more standing outside, arms wrapped tightly around their waists. They faced the stable. As the bright morning rays stretched across the snow-covered ground, we rounded the corner of the keep.
I came to a complete stop, my hand going lax in Casteel’s grip.
Ahead of us, where the space had been emptied, where Lord Chaney had found me the night before, was a tree.
My gaze lifted, following the wide, glistening bark and over the thick limbs stretching as tall as the keep, heavy with leaves gleaming crimson in the bright morning sun.
This was no freshly planted sapling. The tree was well rooted, as if it had stood there for decades, if not hundreds of years. Moisture seeped through the bark, beaded and rolled slowly to the tips of the leaves, falling in droplets of red, splashing against the snow.
A blood tree.
“How?” I whispered even though no one knew how the trees in the Blood Forest grew, why they bled. Why did one grow here overnight, where one hadn’t stood before?
“They’re saying it’s an omen,” Casteel answered quietly.
“Of what?”
“That the gods are watching.” His grip tightened on my hand as I shivered. “That even though they still slumber, they are signaling that a great change is coming.”
“Did you happen to forget about the blood tree?” I asked as we returned to the keep. “And that’s why you didn’t mention it?”
“To be honest, I had more pressing concerns.”
I arched a brow. “Really? What is more pressing than an omen sent by the gods?”