Chapter 10: Valerian and Wolfsbane

I woke in the room with the river window.

The light outside was gold. I had slept the whole afternoon.

Someone had taken off my boots and laid the quilt over me, and someone sat in the chair beside the bed.

Torin.

He had his elbows on his knees and a mug of tea gone cold in his hands. When he saw my eyes open, he set it down.

"Easy," he said.

"What happened?"

"You fainted in my mother's garden." His mouth moved. "Then the garden grew."

"How much?"

"The whole bed. Every row you touched is a hand high. Your seeds cracked open in front of me like they'd been waiting a hundred years."

I tried to sit up, and the room slid.

His hand came out and settled between my shoulder blades, firm and warm, and held me upright.

"Slowly," he said.

I should have pulled away. I didn't.

His palm was broad. I could feel each of his fingers through my sweater, and the heat of him down my spine.

It was the first time a man had touched my back in six years and meant only to hold me up.

"I'm all right," I said.

"You were out cold for six hours."

"That's not all right."

"No," he agreed. "But you're breathing."

His voice had gone rough on the last word.

I looked at his hand, and then at his face.

His pupils were wide in the gold light, and a muscle ticked high in his jaw.

I decided he was tired. He had carried me upstairs. That was all.

"Your wolf," he said. "Can I ask something?"

"Go on."

"What color is she?"

"White. Pale gold at the edges." I frowned. "I haven't seen her in years. Rhett always said she was a plain grey runt."

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