The Forests of Dru by Jeffe Kennedy

Author:Jeffe Kennedy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, magic, fantasy paranormal romance, romance adults
Publisher: Jeffe Kennedy

~ 8 ~

Lonen couldn’t vouch that spiritual healing did anything real. Nothing like what Baeltya did, removing pain and reenergizing his body. But he did feel as if he’d shed his despair. He still wasn’t certain of the best decision as far as remaining King of the Destrye. But he also didn’t feel that bone-deep weariness just contemplating the choices.

And returning to his rooms, seeing Oria, felt more like a delight to anticipate, rather than fleeing to the comfort of her company to hide himself away.

The guards outside his chamber doors bowed to him. As he strode into the outer chamber, however, he would have doubted that Oria was within if they hadn’t said so. The teeming hordes of ladies, maids, and seamstresses who’d driven him out to begin with had all apparently fled. The rooms had been neatened, too, with ashes carried away from the fireplaces, and fresh fires burning, the wood furniture gleaming and furs fluffed.

He supposed they had let it get a bit stale.

“Oria?” he called out, doffing his indoor cloak, tossing aside his wreath of office, and unsheathing his axe to set by the bedroom door. As he entered the room, she rose from her accustomed place by the fire, a lovely flush on her high cheekbones.

“Sorry—I must have dozed off. One day I won’t fall asleep at the least opportunity. I went to the aswae and talk about relaxing. It was so warm and they put oil on you—have you done it?—it’s so purging and—what? What’s wrong?”

He’d been staring. At least he hadn’t let his mouth actually fall open, though his tongue felt unaccountably dry. “Oria,” he breathed. “You look gorgeous. I mean, you’re always beautiful, but—”

She laughed, interrupting the tumble of incoherent praise. Then she stepped out from behind the pair of chairs, held out the skirt of her crimson velvet gown, and twirled. “Isn’t it wonderful? I don’t know how they knew to make it red—maybe from the rags of my robes—but it’s perfect, and I feel almost like myself again.”

She spun again, the full skirts belling out, emphasizing her narrow waist and the elegant fullness of her breasts. The high neckline was trimmed with white fur, framing her delicate jaw, and the long, tight sleeves ended in similar cuffs, with long fringes of fur that trailed over her slim fingers. Her hair hung loose and perfectly straight down her back, nearly to her bottom, not billowing in a cloud as it sometimes had in the dryness of Bára, but in a liquid fall as perfectly shining as a newly forged sword.

“And look!” she was saying. With a bright and saucy smile, she picked up a pair of matching velvet gloves from the table between the chairs, which also held a carafe of wine and two mugs. She drew on the gloves and held them up. “I can touch people without worrying about it.”

She moved to him with something of her old restless energy, that impetuous grace she’d lavished on every movement back

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