Page 79 of In The Dark

“What do you mean?” I grind out. “Why didn’t you take us to Alvonia or the loft?”

Arcan is south of Alvonia by almost two days, which means he’s landed us in an entirely different location in the middle of the woods.Great.

I stand, giving the area a quick scan. The river roars behind us, flowing at a steady pace, so we’ll have plenty of water. Surrounded by trees, firewood is no issue, but we might be without a decent meal besides what I have packed in the bag that’s now slung across my back. He groans again, and I glance down to meet his stare.

“I’m injured… which drains me,” he mumbles, taking a deep breath. “Which also means that… the location I originally aimed for when traveling through the Veil didn’t quite line up… and instead, landed us here.” He groans again, pushing himself off the wall, cradling his arm. “I’m afraid we’re stranded until I heal, unless you want to give traveling through the Veil a shot?”

A groan escapes me, and I turn from him with a shake of my head, knowing damn well I won’t be able to muster enough magic to risk traveling with both of us.We’re stuck here for the night.

“That’s what I thought,” he mumbles. “I’ve been here before, though. This cave is empty so we can stay here and Veil back in the morning.”

“Fine, but I’m still inspecting it in case it’s not. Just stay here. I’ll be right back,” I mutter and attempt to walk away but the adrenaline has worn off, leaving me limping. I bite my lip to keep from crying out when Rydian grips my wrist, gently pivoting me toward him.

“You’re injured,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m fine,” I say, pulling my arm away.

28

A fire cracklesin the middle of the cave, small enough so that it doesn’t smoke us out but large enough to boil water and heat the cramped space. It’s unnervingly cold—bone chilling even—and even though a fire quietly roars in front of us, I can’t help but shiver. Perhaps it’s the injury that has me so cold, or maybe a storm is rolling in.

Luckily, since Rydian has been here before, he previously moved large stones in varying sizes into the cave, used as chairs. He claims to have come across the location a few years ago when meeting an informant in Arcan. He didn’t go into much detail about it other than that it was a peaceful spot, enjoying the river when he passed through.

We’ve just finished cleaning our wounds, taking turns soaking strips of my torn sleeves with the boiling water. Now we sit in silence around the fire.

“Are you hungry? I have some dried meat in my bag.” I shoot a glance to my right, catching the hard line of his jaw as he clenches it, but he gives me a small nod anyway. Stuck in Arcan for the night isn’t exactly what either of us had in mind, butwe’ll have to make it work. I can only hope that no one comes knocking on my chamber door over the next few hours.

Lifting the flap and digging through the canvas material, I quickly find the meat, offering him a few pieces when I notice something shiny at the bottom of my bag. Reaching in, my hand grazes a small metal tin, and I pull it out to find the leftover salve from my trip to Sylvanor.

I grin. Ezra gave me the first tin after he replaced it just in case I needed it on my ride. I rise to my feet, limping to stand in front of Rydian just shy of his knees.

“Take your shirt off,” I say, motioning for him to lift it with a flick of my wrist. He lifts his gaze to mine with a raised brow and a wicked smirk.

“Naked so soon? I figured you would’ve held out longer,” he says and I groan, exhaling through my nose.

“Just let me put this on you.”

His eyes finally dart to the small tin in my hand when he gives me a nod and begins to peel off his shredded shirt. He pulls his left arm out and inches it above his head with a wince, so I reach over to help with the remaining pieces. The movement forces me to hover over him as I peel off the torn fabric stuck to his arm. He hisses in pain, and I pause, catching his gaze.

“I’m fine,” he growls, shaking his head.

My brow arches. “You’re not, but it’s good to see you’re at least well enough to throw out your usual charm,” I mutter, opening the salve with a quietpop. “This isn’t like your injury in Sylvanor. How come you’re healing slower here?”

Stepping between his legs, I motion for his right arm. He silently lifts it, but I catch the way his breathing stalls as he meets me with a heated stare in a way that forces my eyes to focus on his arm instead of where I’m standing. His warmth radiates off his muscled chest, and I feel it heat the space aroundmy hands despite the brisk chill in the air. I slowly work the salve into the cuts when his voice goes low.

“I was at full power in Sylvanor, but whatever that thing was, its bite slowed my healing. It’s worse than any damage from a blade, which is usually a clean cut, but the longer I’m in this realm, the more it dampens my power.”

I gently hold his arm, lightly grazing the paste over the four jagged gashes that reach from his elbow to the top of his wrist. He’s at least stopped bleeding, but the fleshy wounds remain open.

“Have you seen something like that before?” he asks.

“No,” I murmur, the fire crackling behind me. “But they remind me of the Grokees we encountered when we tracked you to Sylvanor. One left a gaping wound on my shoulder after knocking me off Bjorn. The healing took me a couple days to recover from.” I glance up to catch him staring before I shift my gaze back down. “Their torn, decomposing skin looked the same. They also had a very similar scent, and the feeling I got…” I shudder, shaking my head and remembering the chill that went down my spine before he realized we were surrounded. “I could almost sense them. I don’t know. It was odd.”

His soft breathing brushes the hair over my face, and I realize then just how close we are. Eager to focus on anything else but his mouth, my thoughts suddenly land on the hidden birthmark in my hair, pulling me back to what Milena said.

“My mother had a Varethin mark in her hair. Milena mentioned she received hers in the castle—does that mean they’re not born with it?” I ask quietly.

He hums, a puff of air escaping his nose. “The marks of Aurelia are often acquired later in life. Most don’t get theirs for many, many years.”