THE ONLY PRINCE [High Fantasy Quest Adventure w/ Fae Romance]

Chapter Nine

ONCE I HAVE sunken into his form, my father is all that helps me stand.

As the adrenaline of the night leaves my body, I find in its place pain.

Every part of me hurts—my limbs heavy with exhaustion. A wave of nausea washes over me, and I press a hand to my mouth to stifle a groan that threatens to escape. The sensation is overwhelming, like a relentless tide pulling me under.

Orion's grip tightens around me, his strength the only thing keeping me from collapsing onto the frozen ground. Gently, he guides me to my room. Each step feels like a chore, my joints aching and protesting with every movement. When we reach the stairs, he lifts me up effortlessly, but carefully. The wood creaks under the weight of Orion's steady footsteps as he climbs, and I try not to wince as I'm moved.

I bury my face into his shoulder, seeking solace in his warmth and the steady rhythm of my father's heartbeat. The familiar scent of juniper and sage linger on his clothes, a reminder of this morning that now seems like a distant memory. Like times around a flickering bonfire where I would sit on the dew damp ground leaning against my fathers leg, his skin shining with salty sweat, perplexed in my youth by the thick black hair on his muscled calf where I had none.

Finally, I am gently laid down on the soft bed, relief flooding through my exhausted body as I sink into the blankets. He helps remove what is left of my ruined sandals. The once fine things are now tattered and torn, remnants of a life I can barely recognize anymore. My feet ache with cold, the numbing starts to thaw into a burning sensation that shoots up my calves. Orion leaves my side, his silhouette disappearing into the shadows as he heads towards the stairs. I imagine him searching for a way to light the upstairs hearth, seeking out some warmth and illumination in the darkened cottage. The clash of a flint and steel suddenly sound, and with practiced ease, the fire hisses to life under his skillful touch. The crackling is a comforting sound amidst the heavy silence that hangs in the air.

I can now see my father's features clearly as he stands in front of the blazing fireplace, his face aglow with orange and gold hues. Even bolder shadows appear across his already hardened features, darkening every crease and line. The furrow of his brow casts a dark veil over his usually warm eyes.

I watch him silently as he tends to the fire until his silhouette is outlined against the flames.

The warmth begins to seep into my bones, thawing the icy chill that had settled within me. I take a deep breath, allowing myself to bask in the soothing heat of the hearth. My knuckles scream as I try unclenching my fists from the fur of the Daenara's pelt, releasing tension I hadn't even realized I was holding.

Its weight is an entirely newfound comfort around me.

As a toddler, I had spent countless nights snuggled into it's fur, and even now, it offers a sense of security that I desperately need. I turn my face to bury my freezing nose into the white softness, inhaling the scent.

Memories flood my mind.

Simpler times when my only worry was whether I could climb the tallest tree in the forest or make it across the river without getting wet.

Orion disappears again before returning with a basin of water he adjusts above the hearth.

Five minutes later, he sets it down on the bedside table and dips a cloth into the lukewarm water, wringing it out before gently cleaning the dirt and grime from my face. His touch is tender, each movement deliberate and careful as he cleanses the blood and tears that have dried on my skin. My father dips the cloth back into the water, wringing it out before carefully tending to my frozen feet. The sensation is both agonizing and relieving as feeling returns to my numbed extremities. I bite my lip to stifle a cry, my body tensing at the shock of pain. His strong jaw is set in concentration, his mouth a firm line of concern.