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

34. Morelle

34

MORELLE

C onsciousness returned gradually this time, feeling natural rather than strained. Morelle's eyelids felt lighter and easier to lift, and when she opened them, she found her storyteller sitting beside her bed instead of Ell-rom.

Had she dreamt of her brother's visit?

No. She remembered touching Ell-rom's similarly fuzzy scalp and remembering him explaining the stasis chambers and their effect on their bodies.

That had been real.

Her hand drifted to her head, feeling the soft fuzz of new growth there.

Such a trivial thing, losing one's hair. She shouldn't be so upset about it, not when she had survived thousands of years in stasis and found her brother alive and well on the other end. But given that this came on top of everything else, the years she'd lost, her mother's death, the uncertainty of where she had found herself, it felt devastating.

She felt a tear slide down her cheek.

"Morelle," the storyteller whispered. "You're awake."

He stood and leaned over her, his blue eyes conveying a depth of feeling she couldn't understand. Why did he care to dedicate so much time to her?

Was he a healer? Someone who Ell-rom had hired to coax her back to the world of the living?

What had Ell-rom paid him with?

She hoped her brother had been smart enough to hide his ability from these people, or they would turn him into a tool of death. It wasn't that she had a fundamental issue with that; some individuals needed killing, but Ell-rom was not an assassin, and if he was forced to kill, it would maim his soul.

If she were a believer, Morelle would pray to the Mother of All Life to keep Ell-rom from ever bartering his soul for goods or services on her behalf or on behalf of anyone else.

The storyteller took her hand, cradling it against his chest. "The medics said that there is nothing wrong with your vocal cords or your facial muscles. You should be able to talk."

She could feel his heartbeat accelerating through the thin fabric of his shirt. He wanted her to speak to him, and she would if she could, but her previous attempts had been futile.

It was as if her mouth had forgotten how to form words.

Then she remembered him telling her his name.

Bran-don. Perhaps she could start with that. Just saying his name.

Hesitantly, she extended her tongue and licked her lips. They felt sticky, coated with something that the medics must have applied to soften them.

The taste was unpleasant.

She swallowed, trying to bring more moisture into her dry mouth, and then formed the syllables of his name. "Bran-don," she said slowly, and the triumph felt even greater than her earlier victory of opening her eyes.

"You said my name." He gently squeezed the hand that was still pressed against his chest. "You can talk. Oh, Princess. You have no idea how happy that makes me."

Something struck her as odd about his response. His lips hadn't moved in synch with the words she'd heard, and she realized that the sound had come from a small device hanging from a cord around his neck.

Curious, she reached for it, and to her surprise, her hand responded to her command.

He allowed her to hold it, watching as she examined it with questioning eyes. She wanted to ask what it was, but forming her earlier words had drained what little energy she had for speech.

"It's a translation device," he explained, seeming to understand her unspoken question. "It translates my native language to Kra-ell."

Morelle managed to lift her head slightly, looking down at her own chest, but she found nothing similar there. How would he understand her when she didn't have a similar device?

Not that she'd said much, just his name, and now she felt too exhausted to say more. Perhaps he could understand her, or maybe the device worked in both directions?

Brandon smiled, touching something in his ear. "I have earpieces that translate what you're saying in Kra-ell to my language. When you feel well enough, you'll get a pair of these so you can understand those who don't have a teardrop." His hand dropped to the translator hanging from his neck, which was indeed shaped like a teardrop.

Morelle had so many questions about the technology, about this new world she'd awakened to, but one concern pressed more urgently than all others. "Ell-rom?" she managed to ask.

"Ell-rom has them, too," Brandon replied.

He'd misunderstood. "Here?" she clarified, condensing the inquiry after her brother into one word.

Understanding dawned in Brandon's eyes, followed by what looked like disappointment, and she realized that he thought she was dismissing him in favor of her brother.

Didn't he understand that she'd listened to him for so many hours and felt like she knew him well already, while she'd only had a few precious moments with Ell-rom before exhaustion had pulled her under again?

"I'll tell him you're awake," Brandon said, releasing her hand and turning toward the door.

"Bran-don," she said softly, waiting until he looked back over his shoulder. "Thank you."

His smile returned, and he nodded before opening the door.