Nicon

VIII

VIII

    THE CHILL NIPPED at Elysie's fingertips, a cool sensation that tingled through her fingers and up her arms until it was spreading so rapidly throughout her body that she barely had time to react before her eyes were peeling open and attempting to adjust to the bright white light.

    She moved her fingers gently at first and was pleasantly surprised to hear sheets rustling beneath.  Soft.  They must be silk, she thought.

    The music hadn't been played in a long time, although Elysie wasn't exactly sure how long "long" was.  Her sense of time was horribly distorted.  She believed it was just her imagination that produced the music, a consequence of her unstable state of mind and loneliness.

    A harsh swinging noise sounded followed by a sharp gasp.  "Your Highness!" a frantic voice called from above.  "It seems she is waking!"

    "Yes, Syd, so it seems."  Elysie would recognize that man's hard voice from anywhere.  The King.

    The other man in the room, Syd, was pacing, or at least Elysie thought it was Syd.  The King seemed too disinterested to bother.  "Syd, make sure her room is ready."

    "I alread-"

    "That wasn't a request."

    Scurrying footsteps accompanied the small parting pleasantry and the room fell silent.  Who are these people?  The Shifters?

    A loud sigh echoed noisily through the room and Elysie wanted desperately to have her bodily function back, her sight, just so she could see the man who sounded so fierce yet seemed so distressed. 

    She prayed to the God her mother prayed to, yet Elysie knew he wouldn't answer.  She was alone.

    "Goddess.  Haven't I been punished enough?"  The despair was almost overpowering in his tone.  How could a man with such a high title sound so weak?  Elysie scolded herself for her judgmental attitude.

    Concentrating all her energy on lifting her right arm, the small girl felt air surge past the underside of her arm as she lifted it higher, bringing it close to where she imagined her face was. 

    A light cloth was covering her eyes and a small rush of joy struck her heart.  Perhaps her eyesight had returned, after all.

    "I wouldn't recommend removing the cloth, girl."  Elysie's fingertips froze, still brushing the end of the fabric.  "We cannot be sure you have properly healed."   

"You expect me to lay here vulnerable without my sight?"  The King detected a small accent in her tone, most likely picked up from living in the village.  She sounded strangely English.

    "Your sight would not help save you if I wanted you dead." 

    "There must be some punishment if you murder your mate, I'd imagine."  Elysie sat up, slowly, and cradled her once broken wrist in her lap.  It had healed perfectly.  "How long have I been asleep?"

    "You imagine wrong.  One week too many," the man grumbled. 

    Elysie desperately wanted to remove the cloth to see the man who held so much power.  Her ears, however, were ringing more clearly and sound seemed to vibrate through her whole body, electricity rushing through her veins.

    Her body prickled with energy.  Elysie had never felt this alive.

    "That is a small side effect of the Royal blood in your system, human.  It has healed you.  Peculiar how it still rests inside you."  She heard footsteps patter closer.  "The traces should have been long gone by now."

    "You didn't mark me, did you?"  Nicon noticed how frantic she sounded and hesitated before answering.

    "I did not."

    She nodded contently.

    Subconsciously, her fingers started to itch back up to the fabric tied around her head.  "I would like to remove it."   

    King Nicon sighed.  "I don't want you to be disappointed if my blood has not yet healed your eyesight.  Complications aren't common, but they are there."

    "Just take it off."  She was starting to become agitated by the darkness.  "Please," she added in a small voice.

    Warm fingertips brushed against Elysie's cheekbones without warning and fiery shivers danced across her cheeks.  She sucked in a breath.  What was that?

    "The mate pull."

    "Can you read all my thoughts?" she asked, sounding slightly bitter.  She was feeling oddly comfortable around this man when she knew she should be afraid.

    "Just the ones you project to me."

    "I project nothing."

    "Voluntarily," he mused.

    Her lips pressed together, tightly shut, as if it would prevent another thought from slipping out.

The King reached his fingers through her hair and untied the knot in the back, painfully slowly.

    Elysie did not comment on his slow movements, just relished in his touch.

    She could feel the soft fabric moving farther from her face, and at once, she opened her eyes, eager to see the light. 

    But all she was met with was a sheen of darkness.