Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,51

a growl. “The smelly thing in the cape is inside the building.”

Broken. Leena cursed under her breath as she walked away from Morran. Broken was hardly an original excuse for emotional retreat. Who in Faery hadn’t been shattered by the war? Who hadn’t fought for survival, jostling like cattle around a shrinking water hole?

And trust? Trust had become increasingly conditional as conflict with the Shades dragged on. Today, the Kelthians were trusted—or at least tolerated—by the citizens of Eldaban. Tomorrow, if food became scarce, their welcome would end. That was just how things were.

Leena crossed the lawn at a ferocious pace, her feet swishing in the grass. She ranted inside her own head, not quite making sense. But his words stung more than they had a right to, slicing right through to her core. She put a hand to her waist, half expecting blood.

Morran had no business kissing her if he couldn’t see a future with hearth and home—with her—in it.

Leena stopped, her hand on the entry door. If she turned around, he would still be brooding beneath the oak tree. She could see him in her mind’s eye—a strong, tall warrior. She liked him better in the clothes of this world, with no hint of his princely rank. It put them on an equal footing.

Heat crept up her cheeks. Anger was making her unjust—at him, but also at herself for playing the fool. She’d made herself vulnerable, and she was blaming him for her stupidity. Morran was truly broken—Leena knew that was far more than an excuse—but not so broken that he had to stoop to loving a temple dancer. If she’d believed that, she was the one with a poor grasp on sanity.

Ah, yes, for an instant, she’d thought there had been room for something between them—despite the Mother’s warnings, despite Anna’s logic, and despite her own misgivings. Foolish, foolish girl. The most she could hope for was a brief flare of passion, take it or leave it.

But without trust, there could be no meaningful connection between them. She would not settle for less.

She pulled open the door, refusing to glance back.

With the newly restored lighting, it wasn’t as easy to travel the hospital unseen, and she had to resort to a distraction charm. It wasn’t as strong as a true invisibility spell, but it was enough to make humans look the other way. She found her way back to the top floor without incident.

When she turned the corner into the corridor to Barleycorn’s room, a sound made her stop. She looked around, a bit disoriented by the bright overhead lights. Everything appeared different in the glare.

The sound had come from somewhere ahead. She started forward again.

There was little to block her view of the hall—a few chairs. and a rolling cot pushed against the wall. The cot was empty, but there was something—someone—beneath it. Leena ran a few steps, then stopped, afraid to approach. She circled the prone figure, staying out of reach. Predators could play dead if that brought their prey within easy reach.

The figure was male, wearing boots and leathers. Nothing about him jogged her memory until she saw his face, which was turned her way. The eyes were closed, but she recognized the wolf who had brought pizza. What was his name?

Edgar. That was it.

With his features slack, he seemed painfully young. Leena swallowed hard, her misgivings surging like a rogue tide. She knelt beside him, noticing for the first time that there was blood pooling beneath him. Lots of blood once she let herself look. She could smell it now, coppery and rich.

The scent triggered her years of training, turning off her emotions as her thoughts grew sharp and clear. She glanced back where she’d been, noting there were no obvious signs of violence in the corridor. Yet, Edgar had crawled beneath the cot like a wounded dog. A knife wound to the belly perhaps? If the blade was still in it, the bleed might be slow.

She checked for a pulse, finding nothing though his skin was still warm. Then she used her healer’s senses, digging deeper. He was dead, but only just. The sound she’d heard might have been his last breath.

She could turn the body to search for the wound and the weapon that caused it. Moving Edgar wouldn’t hurt him now, and curiosity urged her to investigate further. But whoever had killed him wouldn’t be far.

Leena got to her feet. As a dancer, she could move with perfect silence. She