Page 54

“What’s wrong, cherub?” I ask, forcing my voice to be a little rougher than it wants to be. Look at me, clucking like a nursemaid. This girl is going to be the death of me.

“I’m sick.”

Illness? My heart beats a little faster. Fairies can suffer from ailments, but they are almost all magic-borne. Fragile humans are different. Their very environment can sicken them—kill them.

The longer I stare at her body, the more obvious it is that she is, in fact, sick. Her entire body shakes under her blankets, and on her bedside table is a tiny bottle of ibuprofen and an empty glass. It seems to be a paltry defense against whatever is ailing her.

Outside, rain batters against her window, obscuring the campus grounds of Peel Academy.

I stride over to her bedside and, leaning down, press the back of my hand to her sweaty forehead. She’s frighteningly hot.

This is normal for a human, I tell myself. But even as I do so, my mind flashes to all those other winters I’d seen on earth and all those other humans who succumbed to such fevers.

Callie stares up at me, looking painfully fatigued. “I’m glad you came,” she breathes.

As if I wouldn’t. The hounds of hell couldn’t stop me. But she doesn’t need to know that.

She licks her chapped lips.She needs water.I procure a glass of it a second later.

“Thank you,” she says weakly. She sits up, and I can tell everything about the movement aches.

The water seems just as useless as the ibuprofen.

I could give her lilac wine. All I’d have to do is pretend it’s some magical tonic. She’d drink it, and technically shewouldget better instantly. That, and our bond would complete itself.

I hadn’t known when I first met her that our clashing magic prevented me from feeling her the way soulmates usually do. Our connection won’t fully form until our power becomes compatible. One sip of lilac wine would take care of that; our bond would lock into place …

You selfish bastard, you’d steal her chances at a normal life.

A horrible sort of frustration stirs through me. I have to just watch this play out.

She takes a shallow sip of the water.

I feel my brows furrow. “Drink more.”

Callie is well enough to glower at me. “You don’t have to be so bossy, I was planning on it.”

Ah, there’s that attitude. I could live off of it. It curbs the worst of my worries and steadies my uncertain heart.

“Have you eaten?” I ask, looking her over.

She shakes her head. “The dining hall is too far away.” And the storm’s too bad and she’s too sick to make the trek.

I frown at her. No one thought to bring her anything to eat or drink? A flash of anger and protectiveness swell within me.

Safeguard your mate.

Fuck it, tonight I’m going to be that clucking nursemaid.

“What sounds good?” I ask her. I half expect her to say that she has no appetite.

“Soup,” she says.

My heart breaks a little at her answer. So shehasbeen hungry, but she’s been too sick to get herself something to eat.

There’s something seriously wrong about that.

In other news, I might be the world’s shittiest mate. Can’t even take care of my siren until she calls on me.