Winter Gods & Serpents (The Auran Chronicles Book 1) by Wendy Heiss

Author:Wendy Heiss [Heiss, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wendy Heiss
Published: 2021-10-24T18:30:00+00:00

Nia and Kilian did not say anything as they saw me rub my red cheek, the bloodied cut on my lip and the bruise forming on my jaw. I knew they had heard everything said between my father and I. Ice coated the corridors too so they knew how much I angered him, though the consequence for it came at an easy price compared to what would have been done to me years ago.

I headed outside, limbs worn out in fatigue, my lids half closed in the whispering winter wind of the gardens, so revoking to my past. I had been hit by my father countless times before when I was younger, but before they had been to beat me into submission this one was of anger, rage.

“Amerie is being moved today to her new residence, I promised we would accompany her, she is still scared of our soldiers,” Nia spoke softly, pulling me back from my endless absent wondering.

“You will go, send her my apologies for not coming.”

“I will go get Cai then,” she offered.

I reached for her arm, stopping her. “No, I will be fine. No need to disturb him. I kept him and Mal up with no rest all night, you go to Amerie. I will stay with this one.” I pointed towards Kilian. “If someone will kill me, it's definitely not him.”

She stared madly between me and him, who seemed to be taken as aback as her.

“Nia, please,” I pleaded, seeing she was about to protest.

She sighed. “Fine.” Before she left she turned pointing at him. “If you do hypothetically kill her, keep the hair, it would be a shame.”

“I’ll keep the hair,” he said blankly, and I could swear Nia flinched and truly doubted whether to leave or not.

She called for Penelope to meet me at the gardens just as I had asked her, with a pillow, blanket and a thick cloak. My little servant didn’t even start to ask what I needed them for, she was already familiarized with my habits.

“Let me heal your bruise,” Kilian spoke following me about the garden.

“Not this one, I want to have this one.” He had bruised my favourite cheek, but I wanted to wear it proudly, the mark of my father’s anger. A reminder as much as for myself as for him, that it would take more than a bruise to bring me down.

“The forehead one then,” he offered. “Clumsiness should not be something one takes pride in.”

I halted and turned to him, pulling my hair behind my ear to reveal the bruise hidden there. “I was not clumsy, just…thinking.” Embarrassing moment I wish to forget, maybe that was why he was not scared of me, even my limbs were traitors who disobeyed.

“Think sitting next time.” He neared, scent of citrus flowers with him, he smelled delicious, like lemon desert. His fingers grazed my brow and I sucked in a breath at the contact, something between electric and touch of morning rays of sun, both rough yet very gentle.

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