Page 24 of Darkness and Deceit (Obsidian Academy #2)

Twenty-One

LILITH

Somewhere between the hustle of healers in the hallway and the wheeze of Kai’s breathing, my body gave out. I think I drifted off to sleep sitting upright, then woke up with my cheek pressed to the mattress, my fingers still curled around his.

Hours passed like smoke. No beginning. No end. Just waiting.

Now, morning filters through the window on the far wall. It paints long shadows across the floor, hazy with steam and the faint scent of ashroot and juniper balm. I remember the smell from when I was here before—sharp, herbal, sterile. Healing.

Speaking of which, the healers have been in and out, their quiet footsteps whispering against the stone.

They speak in hushed voices, like raising their tone might scare someone back into death.

A few have offered me tea. One tried to convince me to go back to the dorm, but I refused. This is where I need to be.

The Keepers haven’t come in yet, but I’ve seen them in the hallway—one spoke to a healer earlier without bothering to lower his voice. They’re waiting. Listening. Watching.

Kai hasn’t moved.

I sit up slowly, every joint stiff, and press the heel of my palm into one eye. I don’t cry. I’m too tired. Too wrung out. But the ache in my chest hasn’t gone anywhere.

“Hey,” I whisper, brushing my thumb along his hand. “Still with me?”

No response. Just the faint rise and fall of his chest.

The bond between us flickers like a dying ember. Still there. Still faint. And I cling to it like a lifeline.

I don’t know what I’ll do if it goes dark.

I rest my forehead lightly against his and whisper again. “Please come back to me.”

And then?—

He blinks.

Just once. Slow and unfocused. But it’s him.

And for a moment, I forget how to breathe. I lean back just enough to see his face. His gaze slides over me—sluggish, dazed—and then lands, really lands, on my eyes.

“Kai,” I breathe.

His lips part like he’s trying to speak. Nothing comes out.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, cupping his face with both hands. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… stay with me.”

He blinks again. His lashes twitch. And then, barely audible, he rasps, “Hurts.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I know.”

His hand tightens around mine, a weak squeeze. His skin is dry and fever-hot, but that pressure—that instinct to hold on—nearly undoes me.

“You’re safe,” I whisper. “You made it back to me.”

Kai doesn’t answer, but his eyes stay locked on mine. Dull but aware. Like he’s still wading through the fog. Like he’s not sure if any of this is real.

“Do you want water?” I ask, already reaching for the glass beside the bed.

He doesn’t speak, only blinks once. I help him sit up slowly, careful not to brush his burned side. He hisses between his teeth, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.

When the cup touches his lips, he drinks in small sips—shaky, like he’s relearning how to move. I watch every swallow like it’s sacred. It is. He’s here.

Once he finishes, I ease him back down against the pillows. He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, they’ve cleared a little.

“I thought—” he starts, then breaks off, jaw tight.

“What?” I ask gently, brushing damp hair from his temple.

His voice is barely audible. “I thought I wouldn’t make it back to you.”

The words land like a gut punch. “You did,” I whisper. “You did.”

He turns his head just enough to look at me, something raw flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t want you to see me like this…”

I blink, startled. “Kai—I’ve already seen you like this. I’ve been here. Every hour. Every heartbeat.”

He swallows hard, throat bobbing like it hurts to admit. “I thought it’d make you look at me differently.”

I shift closer, pressing my forehead to his once more. “It does,” I whisper. “It makes me see you clearer. You think I only want the version of you that never breaks? That’s not real. This is. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s different now. The flame—it didn’t just burn me. It did something else. Twisted everything. I don’t even know what’s mine anymore.”

“You’re still in there, Kai. I can feel it. The bond’s not broken and you’re not alone.”

He exhales shakily, lashes fluttering closed for a beat. “He was one of them,” he says eventually. I don’t have to ask who he means. Vaughn told me what happened. “The one from the pit.”

I nod once. “I figured from what Vaughn mentioned.”

“I froze,” he says again, jaw tight. “I saw his face and everything just—collapsed. It was like being back there. I couldn’t move.”

“You lived,” I say softly, but firmly. “You fought your way back.”

“I didn’t want him to take me again,” he says, voice breaking. “Didn’t want you to ever see what I was in that place.”

My heart twists. “You don’t have to tell me,” I whisper. “Not now. Not if it hurts. You’re here. You’re safe.”

He shakes his head faintly. “No. You should know. You should know what he did, what I let happen, the things I did to?—”

I cut him off gently, cupping his cheek. “Stop. Please. There’s nothing you could say that would make me turn away.”

His eyes finally meet mine, wide and glassy. “I don’t feel like myself.”

“You don’t have to,” I say, wrapping my fingers around his again. “That’s what the bond is for. I’ll hold on until you find your way back.”

Kai closes his eyes again. His breathing evens out. It’s shallow, but less strained. The bond between us pulses once, low and real, like a heartbeat echoing mine and his.

Outside the room, I hear the distant murmur of a healer giving orders. Someone wheels a cart of bandages and elixirs past our door. The scent of healing salves clings to the air.

Simon and Vaughn left earlier—Simon dragging Vaughn toward the medics after I insisted. I haven’t seen them since. I know they’ll be back. I know they’re not far.

My gaze shifts back to Kai.

My mate.

Burned. Broken. Healing.

I glance at his wound—raw and blackened where the blue fire touched him. I’ve felt the echo of it through the bond, cold and wrong, like something slithering through his veins that doesn’t belong. It’s not just pain. It’s erasure. Like it wants to strip him down and rebuild him into something else.

It doesn’t simply scar—it warps. Breaks magic apart and puts it back together wrong. And that’s what scares me the most.

It’s not fucking fair. Kai has already been through more than anyone should. He’s already held together by scars and fury and whatever scraps of softness he has left for me.

I can’t let this take the rest of him.

A soft knock raps against the door, and I turn just as it eases open. Augustus steps inside, still in his Keeper robes. So they finally send one of their own.

I shouldn’t be surprised. But it still makes something in me go cold.

His expression is unreadable, but his eyes go straight to Kai. He studies him silently for a long beat before glancing at me.

“The Keepers felt a disturbance,” he says. “From you. From him. They want to understand what it means.”

I rise from the chair slowly, but I don’t let go of Kai’s hand. “He’s still in there,” I say, voice thick with emotion.

Augustus gives a short nod. “We need to talk. Soon.”

I straighten my spine. “Good. Then you can explain why your people stood there and let him rot,” I say, voice low and burning. “Why they watched while the flame ate him from the inside out and did nothing.”

His gaze lingers on me longer than it should. Then he nods toward the hallway. “When you are ready. We are establishing a base in the old astronomy annex.”

The door clicks softly behind him.

I glance back at Kai. His hand is still in mine, his breaths shallow but steady. Still holding on.

But for how long?

The blue flame hasn’t stopped. It’s inside him now—eating at his magic, burning him from the inside out. The healers won’t say it, but I see it in their eyes.

And the Keepers? They know more than they’ve admitted. I can feel it. In the way they avoid my gaze. In the way they speak in half-truths. In the way they look at me like I’m something they don’t know how to name.

I brush my thumb along Kai’s knuckles.

The next time they ignore me, I won’t knock. I’ll tear the damn door down.