Page 77 of Bitten & Burned

“Felt like I got too much,” I said, my voice thick and unfamiliar in my own throat.

“How do you feel?”

I took a breath, closed my eyes, and searched for pain. Hard to separate it—my thigh always hurt. But these were the usual aches. The familiar ones.

“As good as I ever feel.”

Cassian nodded, still cradling me. A soft ‘meow’ and the sound of claws on my bedding made me look up.

Fig crawled up onto the bed, meowing as he climbed up into Cassian’s lap with me.

“Aww, hello there, Figgy…” I crooned as he climbed over my belly, meowing and nuzzling me like he was an old, worried grandmother.

“He’s been pacing the halls ever since I brought you here,” Cassian said softly.

“He was worried,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry to worry you, baby.”

Fig meowed in response, curling up in the crook of my elbow, not sleeping, just watching me.

“He was worried. He wasn’t the only one.”

I started to apologize, but Cassian continued.

“I wanted to ask…your wound… the sigil on your thigh… is it…”

“It’s still there,” I murmured, lazily petting Fig. The wound, the pain, the lack of magic. All of it, still there.

“Ah. I wondered if perhaps… with my blood being what it is, it might have…”

“Wouldn’t that just be the kicker,” I said, almost smiling. “I do the one thing Vael didn’t want me to do: drink from you, and that’s what ends up saving me.”

But my expression fell the moment I said his name.

“How…how is he?—?”

“He’s in his quarters,” Cassian said, carefully. “He and Anton had… well. A disagreement.”

“About what?”

“Never mind that. Besides, I don’t know the specifics, only that Anton handled it. And let’s just say Vael is currently... sulking.”

“Oh…” I trailed off, unsure if I wanted more detail. “Is that how you do things? A hierarchy by age?”

“Generally. Age means survival. Survival means wisdom. There are many who’d rather see us dead. If you can outlast them... you earn authority.”

“How old are you?” I asked, squinting at him. “And be honest. You don’t get to dodge with ‘oh, we didn’t count years back then’—”

Cassian chuckled. “That’s actually true. We didn’t. Not consistently, anyway.”

“Oh gods,” I groaned dramatically. “You’re older than numbers?”

He gave me a long-suffering look, but I caught the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Very funny.”

“No, really,” I pressed, grinning now. “Did you help invent counting? Did you know someone who did?”

“If I say yes, will you let me finish?”