Page 93

Calysian lets out a cold, hollow laugh. “You expect me to trust you?”

Silence. I get the sense Eamonn is…hurt.

He gets to his feet, his tail low. “For centuries. I looked for you. For years, I came when you needed me. I’ve saved your life, scouted for your enemies, and hinted as much of your true form to you as I could. And now you no longer trust me?” Turning, Eamonn trots toward the door, using one paw to pull down the handle. The moment the door swings open, he’s gone.

Calysian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Getting to his feet, he closes the door behind Eamonn, before wandering back toward the window. Our eyes meet, and he freezes.

Almost instantly, he’s at my side, and my heart slams into my ribs at the strange movement. He has always been fast, his grace somewhat unnatural. But this is a reminder of who he is now.

Who he always was.

He angles his head. “Are you afraid of me?”

I open my mouth, but my throat is too dry to speak. Calysian’s expression gentles, and he takes a cup from the table, one arm encircling my neck as he leans me up, holding me steady.

The water is the best thing I’ve ever tasted, and I drain the cup. Calysian refills it, his eyes holding mine as I drink it down again.

He offers one more, but I shake my head, my stomach already sloshing unpleasantly.

My chest aches, things inside feeling strangely…new. But I attempt to sit up, and Calysian wedges several pillows behind my head.

“Where are we?”

“Nyrridor.”

He told me we would make it here. And he told me I would live. For a moment, I stare at him, coming to terms with it.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs like it was nothing, but his eyes are darting across my face, and I have the feeling he sees more than I would like him to.

“Kyldare almost killed me.”

A stiff nod. Rage glitters in Calysian’s eyes, and his chest rises with a slow breath. “He ran the moment he shot you. He knows you’re a threat to him, even when you’re bleeding out.”

I shake my head. “He was scared of you.”

“He’s fixated on you. Some part of you scares him, which is why he needs to break you. He’s a coward.”

That much is true. Pushing Kyldare from my mind, I crane my neck, surveying my body.

I’m no longer covered in blood—one of his shirts buttoned to the throat. Shakily, I unbutton the first few buttons, preparing myself for the ruin of my chest.

Calysian catches my hands. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see.”

His lips twitch. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, those breasts are stillperfect.”

I glower at him, ignoring the warmth that attempts to spread through me at the teasing note in his voice.

He thinks my breasts are perfect.

I bite down on my lower lip, still needing to see. When I stretch my fingers, he releases my hands, watching closely as I unbutton the next button.

The evidence of my near-death is little more than a faint line, slicing below my collarbone, along the top of my breast. I’d expected puckered skin, a thick red scar to join those on my back—a reminder for the rest of my life.

Calysian watches me avidly, drinking in my every reaction. “I told you.”