I press yet another kiss to his fingertips. “Now hurry up and get better, so I can ride on your knot once more.”

The rumbly, rusty laughter that erupts from Nemeth’s chest is the best thing I’ve ever heard.

Chapter

Eighty-Four

One Week Later

Nemeth is a terrible patient.

I glare down at my mate from my spot over his bed, my hands on my hips. “I am going to grab the nearest chamberpot and pummel you over the head with it if you don’t lie back down right this instant, you absolutely infuriating Fellian.”

He ignores my scowl, trying to push himself up on his feet. “I can’t lie in bed all day long, Candra. There’s too much to be done.”

“Let someone healthy do it, you rock-brain,” I tell him, planting my hands on his chest and giving him a not-so-subtle nudge back into bed. “You’re still recovering from the plague. Your rash has just now healed. Do I need to cover you with another poultice of herbs and onion plaster?”

Nemeth makes a hideous face at that, but he doesn’t try to get out of bed again. “If you come near me with more of that plaster, I am going to scream, Candra.”

“And I am going to scream if you try to get out of bed,” I reply tartly. “So much screaming.” I give his shoulder another nudge and this time he goes down without complaint, relaxing in the bed once more. I pull the sheets up to his chest and beam, pleased. “That’s better.”

“You are an absolutely impossible woman.”

“I really am. Please don’t tell me that you’re surprised by this.” I tuck the blankets tighter around his legs, ignoring his grumbling. “You should count yourself lucky that you have my undivided attention. Fancy lords have given trunks full of jewels for less⁠—”

Nemeth grabs my hand and pulls me down onto the bed next to him. I tumble onto the blankets, my breasts pressed against his side, and let out a squeak of surprise.

“That’s better. Now you’re quiet.” His arm slides around my waist, pinning me in place.

I poke him on his chest. “Very funny. Let me up.”

He shakes his head, gazing down at me thoughtfully. “You look tired, milettahn. I worry about you.”

“I’m fine,” I protest, though I am exhausted. The constant blood draws are taking their toll on me. Maybe I can lie here next to him for a moment. I close my eyes, snuggling against his broad chest. “It’s nice to be able to touch you without you smelling like onions.”

“Those damned poultices of yours.”

“Not mine, Riza’s. And they worked, so you hush.” I’m just so happy that he’s getting better by the day. Every time I see him and his eyes are open, shining bright with impatience to be out of bed, my world feels a little more right. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better. Annoyed that my fragile wife is exhausting herself trying to take care of everyone.” His hand goes to my belly, caressing the bulge of it. “Glad that our child is well.”

“Your child is dancing upon my bladder,” I retort, rolling onto my back a bit so he can rub my belly with ease. “He is more than well. And I’m not exhausting myself. Riza’s keeping a close eye on me. It’s just that the blood draws take a lot out of me. What would you have me do, tell those that are sick that no, I just don’t feel like giving them a portion of my blood today?”

Nemeth makes an unhappy growl in his throat. “Just because I know it is necessary doesn’t mean I like it.” He rubs the curve of my belly. “How is the plague?”

“No new infections today,” I tell him, my eyes fluttering closed. It’s nice to just lie here next to him for a moment and not think about the day. There’s so much to be done and so many to talk to that need advice that I fall into bed every night utterly drained, but we’re making such progress that I can’t be annoyed. “Sixteenth House hasn’t lost anyone, so we’re hopeful that they’ve passed through the worst of it.”

“Good. How is your sister?”

I lick my lips, because I’m not sure how to answer that. “She’s fine.”

Erynne is both good and bad. She’s still filled with an understandable hatred for the Fellians for destroying Lios and murdering her son, but she’s finally acknowledging that this was the work of Ivornath and Ajaxi and that most Fellians simply want to live in peace. Even so, I worry that Darkfell is going to be hard for her. That being here is going to remind her of everything she’s lost.

Last night was a changing point, though. A Fellian woman had approached as my sister and I went over plans for where to put more stairs. The woman had a baby in her arms and handed her to Erynne. It took me a moment to realize that the baby was human.

And when I saw Erynne’s face, I realized it was tiny Ravendor being returned to her mother. For the first time, I saw my sister break down and weep, clutching her baby tightly. Some of the hardness disappeared from her eyes, and I know this morning she’s visiting with the Fellian wet-nurse that was watching over the baby to make plans, as Erynne’s milk has dried up.

It’s not perfect, but it’s progress. I saw my sister smile this morning, and there was no malice in it, nothing but pure joy.

“She’s fine,” I say to Nemeth again, and I mean it.

My bored, bed-ridden mate presses for more details. “And Tolian? Anything new to report?”

“Not since he was in here to see you this morning. Give the man a chance.” And I poke Nemeth again. He says he doesn’t want to be in charge, but he’s taken to it quite well. He’s got a caring heart, which means he’s truly invested in both the Fellians and the Liosians settling in and making a home out of the ruins of our two kingdoms. “I will say that your idea for the transport is brilliant. We just need the Fellians to come around.”

“They’ll come around once the plague slows more.” He pats my stomach. “And when they get tired of building stairs. I’ll be the first volunteer.”

“I hope you’re right.” I put my hand over his, smiling. There’s definitely been a lot of stair building and some grumbling. Right now, Tolian and Second House are leading the charge to make Darkfell more human-accessible. We’re meeting a bit of resistance because of the plague and the fear that humans are the ones infecting Fellians, so it’s natural to keep the two apart for a bit. Nemeth had the brilliant idea of having Fellians volunteer to fly humans back and forth in exchange for pay (or food), but it’s a work in progress.

We’ll get there. We need the Fellians to no longer be in fear of the plague, and the Liosians to no longer be in fear of being enslaved. It won’t happen overnight, but it’ll happen.

“What about the fishing?” Nemeth prompts. “Some of the human women were going to try fishing?”

“It’s coming along,” I tell him with a yawn, being deliberately vague.

“I could head out to the bay with them, supervise⁠—”

“No,” I say firmly.

“—I won’t overtax myself. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll sit the entire time,” he continues. “I’ve read several treatises on the best fishing methods in rainy seasons and⁠—”

“No.”

“—I can be of assistance. Candra, why are you so stubborn?”

“Because you almost died,” I retort. “You’re not getting out of this bed until I’m convinced you’re healthy enough.”

He chuckles. “So you need convincing? Why didn’t you say so?”

And his hand slides under my skirts.

I suck in a breath, opening my eyes to look up at him.

“It’s been a while,” he says, his hand playing on my thigh. “Tell me if this is something you don’t want, and I’ll understand.”

Not want? Is he mad? “Why would I not want this?”

“Because it’s me. Because Fellians are responsible for so many wrongs that have been done to your people. Because you put your trust in me and I broke that trust.”