Dark Princess: Shadows (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance #89)

30. Morelle

30

MORELLE

V itality was gently seeping back into Morelle's body, slowly burning through the lethargy that had dragged her back under after her earlier triumph. She'd managed to move her finger not just once but three times, and what had made it possible was the excitement of feeling the storyteller's hand in hers.

It had felt like being zapped with a bolt of energy, and it had given her the strength to force her body to move, to show him that she had been listening and that she wanted to feel his lips on her hand.

The contact had been too brief because he called the medic.

By then, Morelle had been exhausted, but she'd managed to move her finger one more time to prove to the medic that the storyteller hadn't imagined it. She needed these people to know that she was in there, aware, awake, and locked inside a body that refused to cooperate.

It would cooperate now, though. The vitality coursing through her veins wasn't in her imagination, and this time, when she attempted to open her eyes they responded, and bright light flooded her vision.

The assault on her retinas was as jarring as it had been the first time she'd managed to lift her eyelids, but she refused to let her lids close again. Instead, she waited for her eyes to adjust, watching as the blurry shapes around her slowly gained definition.

Just like before, the only thing in front of her was a wall, and her storyteller couldn't see that her eyes were open. He was talking, but he wasn't holding her hand like he had before. If he had been, she would have moved a finger to alert him.

Instead, she forced her head to turn, and there he was, sitting in a chair beside her bed with his head bowed as he looked at a device balanced on his lap.

He wasn't Kra-ell. That much was immediately obvious from his features, which lacked the distinctive markers of her mother's people. But he wasn't human either. His beauty was too perfect, too sculpted. He was a god, and an exceptionally handsome one at that.

Morelle had seen gods before, mostly in vids but also during that nerve-racking trip to the spaceport where the settler ship had been docked. Many gods had worked there, and she couldn't understand how she and Ell-rom had walked past them without being noticed.

The elaborate makeup they'd worn wouldn't have been enough on its own, and their shrouding shouldn't have worked on the gods.

Perhaps her mother had bribed the few techs they'd encountered?

That wasn't likely. What must have happened was that the gods had been too preoccupied with their work to pay much attention to what appeared to be a pair of unremarkable Kra-ell.

However, the one in charge of their pod had known for sure. She remembered how nervous he'd appeared.

The storyteller must have sensed her scrutiny because he suddenly lifted his head, his eyes widening as they met hers. They were a striking blue and held warmth and intelligence in equal measure.

"Morelle!" He jumped to his feet, nearly dropping the device he'd been holding to the floor. "You are awake!"

She tried to smile for him, wanting to show him how much his presence had meant to her during her long twilight state, how his stories had anchored her and given her something to hold on to, but her facial muscles refused to cooperate.

All she could do was look at him, hoping he could read in her eyes what she couldn't express in any other way.

He took her hand, and the sensation was even more intense than before. His skin was warm against hers, the touch sending little sparks of awareness through her, but it was his eyes that truly captured her attention. The joy in them matched the warmth she'd heard in his voice and the optimism she'd heard in his stories.

He was so different from her.

"Bridget!" he called out, his gaze darting to the ceiling for some reason. "The princess is awake!"

The title made her want to roll her eyes.

He'd called her that many times before, and she liked it despite it not being true. She was the first-born daughter of the Kra-ell queen, and therefore her successor, but the matter of her conception invalidated her claim.

Her very existence was a violation of both societies' most sacred laws. Still, she didn't mind it if he used it as a term of endearment.

Morelle tried to open her mouth to tell him that she didn't need or want titles, but her throat felt dry and unused, and no sound emerged.

The frustration must have shown in her eyes because he immediately moved away from her, and she heard him fill a container with water.

"Here," he said, producing a small cup with a straw. "Small sips only. Your throat hasn't been used in a very long time."

As the door opened, the storyteller looked in that direction. "I hope it's okay to give Morelle a small sip of water?"

The medic answered in a foreign language that Morelle had heard spoken around her before.

The medic must have approved because the storyteller held the straw to her lips.

Morelle managed a small sip, and the water felt wonderful on her parched throat. She wanted more, but he pulled it away after that first taste.

"I'm sorry, Princess. I know that you want more, but we need to wait a moment to make sure that stays down."

She wanted to tell him that she felt fine and that she needed more water, but she still couldn't talk. She wasn't sure whether it was the muscles of her face that were not working properly, or that the signals from her brain were not interpreted correctly by her body. Hopefully, that would pass soon.

Instead, she focused on his face, mapping all the details. Brown, lustrous hair, high cheekbones, strong jaw, and a straight nose that was a little on the longish side but fit his face perfectly. His most striking features were his beautiful eyes and what she saw in them.

He didn't shy away from her intense scrutiny. In fact, he seemed pleased by it. "My name is Bran-don, in case you are wondering."

Bran-don. Her storyteller's name was Bran-don.

It wasn't a Kra-ell name, but it did not sound foreign to her ears either.

She liked it.