“This stopped being funny twenty hours ago, Cael. You need to wake up,” Drayce said irritably.
Far from funny. This felt like a nightmare.
When a guard had come running in a panic toward them from the Wind Stone, Drayce’s heart had stopped in his chest. They’d all run down the long corridor to find a pale Shey holding a drenched and unconscious Caelan in his arms.
The prince had said that one second Caelan was standing there with his hand on the stone, and the next he’d collapsed to the floor, completely soaked to the bone and not breathing. Shey had started to lift Caelan when he suddenly lurched upright, coughed out several swallows of water, and passed out again.
Since then, Caelan hadn’t moved. He’d barely breathed. Upon returning to the royal palace, Caelan had been seen by the queen’s personal physician as well as a healer priestess. Neither could find anything wrong with him. To them, he was merely sleeping.
The only problem was that he wouldn’t wake up.
What initial panic had seized Drayce’s heart had given way to gnawing worry as the hours passed. The three of them had taken turns pacing in Caelan’s bedroom, waiting for him to wake. Rayne had retreated to the queen’s personal library with Prince Shey to see if there was any information about the god trapped in the Wind Stone. Eno was alternating between checking on Caelan and checking on Rayne. Drayce wasn’t sure if he was worried that Rayne would get lost under a pile of books or if he didn’t trust Prince Shey after what had happened to Caelan.
Drayce rubbed his eyes and shifted in his seat, leaning forward to place both his elbows on his knees. He didn’t think this was Shey’s doing. No, this was caused by that god.
What were they supposed to do? For now it was a waiting game, but part of Drayce was dreading the inevitable question if Caelan didn’t stir soon. How did they move forward against the Empire without Caelan?
They didn’t.
Or rather, Drayce didn’t. He wasn’t leaving Calean’s side. He knew he should care about what had happened in Erya, and he did, but it didn’t compare to Caelan. He wasn’t leaving his friend. He’d wait. He’d wait a lifetime if he had to, but he wasn’t going anywhere until Caelan opened his eyes again. This was where he belonged.
Of course, it was also tempting to go to where the Wind Stone was being held and have a few words with the god there. Drayce snorted at the idea. Like the god would give him the time of day. Assuming the god listened to him, he’d be lucky if he didn’t get zapped by lightning or nearly drowned like Caelan.
But he’d do it. He’d do it if it meant Caelan would open his eyes.
Groaning softly at the pull of stiff muscles in his back, Drayce dipped his head and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was exhausted, but he didn’t want to sleep. Maybe he could call a servant to bring him the biggest cup of coffee Sirelis had ever seen.
“You look tired.”
Drayce’s head snapped up at the sound of those three sleepy words. Caelan’s eyes were open and watching him from where he lay in the bed. Drayce’s heart completed a couple of somersaults in his chest as he lurched to his feet.
“You’re awake!”
Caelan quirked an eyebrow at him. “I am,” he agreed, frowning at Drayce. His friend had lost his mind. But then his brow furrowed like missing pieces were starting to come together in his brain. “How…how did I get here? What happened?”
Drayce grabbed his phone and shot off a quick text of HE’S AWAKE!!!!!!! to Eno and Rayne before jumping on the bed. He stretched out next to his best friend, loving the feel of the slight shake of the bed as Caelan chuckled.
“You’ve been asleep for nearly a day,” Drayce said.
“How? I…we went to the stone, right?”
“Yep. Shey said that you had your hand on the stone for barely a second and then you fell over, soaking wet and coughing up water. Like you’d drowned.”
“What?”
“I know! Insane!” Drayce held up his cell phone in front of them and pressed his head against Caelan’s. He snapped a quick selfie, ignoring the disgruntled noises from Caelan as he sent the photo to Rayne and Eno. They were likely racing to the room already unless one or both of them had finally managed to fall asleep somewhere.
“Kaes,” Caelan whispered.
“What?”
“Kaes,” he repeated, looking more awake. “The God of Storms. I spoke to him.”
“What?” Okay, he was usually capable of slightly more intelligent conversation than this, but his brain was just happy that Caelan was awake and talking. He certainly sounded like himself, if a bit groggy, despite having spoken to a god.
Before his friend could answer, the outer door to Caelan’s private chambers was thrown open and two sets of footsteps hammered across the polished wood floors. A second later Eno and Rayne appeared, both exhausted and rumpled, still dressed in the same clothes as the previous day.