Page 3 of Of Blood and Banes (The Arterian #2)

“I don’t want you to worry about it. You can hardly keep your eyes open as is.” He gently plucks my fingers from his shirt until the fabric falls loose. He lifts my hand to his lips and dusts a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Get some rest, and let me take care of it.”

Before I can argue, he lays my hand back down on the bed and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

His touch is lightning in my nerves as he swipes a nostalgic slow line around the corner of my jaw.

Those calloused fingertips graze the column of my neck, before he tosses me a small smile that cracks the ice in my heart.

Then he leaves.

As the door closes behind him, it jolts me out of my distant longing. I snort, popping a piece of cheese into my mouth as I stare at the door. I know he’ll figure out a way to get us home, but…

Where is home now?

When I turn onto my side in my sleep, my injured ribs scream at the contact with the bed.

Wincing, I flip over onto my back and stare up at the dark ceiling.

Sucking in a slow breath, I fight against the pain until it dissipates.

A collection of deep exhalations echo around me, and I flick my gaze to the left.

Rows of beds stretch out into the room, all occupied by Arterians: Cole, Archie, Melaina, Marge, Gavin, Nolan, and several others I hadn’t quite gotten to know back at the military outpost. Archie is tucked under the sheets with his hand stretched out, holding Melaina’s in the bed next to his.

Cole looks pained even in the depths of his dreams. And, unfortunately for those of us sharing this room with her, Marge’s snoring seesaws in and out of the otherwise quiet room.

I peer over at the door. My skin prickles, and an uneasiness settles into my stomach as I stare at the wood.

When the light seeping through the crack of space between the bottom of the door and floor flickers with the passing of shadows, I slowly shift out of bed and slip my boots on.

With no one awake to scold me, it’s the most opportune time to slip out and see Daeja.

Tip-toeing around the room and between the beds of other sleeping Arterians, I slink closer to the door.

When the shadows stretching into the room from the outside disappear, I press an ear to the wood and wait.

A heartbeat.

Two.

Three.

Lowering to the floor and ignoring the ache in my side, I scan underneath the door to find the cobblestone street stretching out into the town empty.

Instinctively, I pat my sides for a dagger to use as a reflective surface to better my range of visibility.

Or to use it in the event I need to defend myself.

It’s too damn bad they’ve confiscated all our weapons. Though, not sure I blame them.

Slowly creeping back to my feet, I glance over my shoulder to ensure everyone is still fast asleep.

I push the door handle down in what might as well be slow motion.

Swallowing against my building apprehension, I part the door open and peer out.

The streets are still empty. When I slip out of the rebels’ so-called “healer’s quadrant,” the cold winter air immediately kisses my skin numb.

A glimmer of movement off to the left catches my attention, about fifty feet away, and I make out only enough in the darkness to see two separate groups of guards exchanging hushed whispers.

They must be changing watches.

Before they notice me, I sneak off through the quiet streets toward the forest, following that magnetic thread.

I’ll be damned if they think they can keep me from seeing Daeja.

And they can kiss my ass if they think they’ll dictate when and where I can see her.

I won’t allow the distance forced between us back in Arterias to resurface.

Because one thing’s for certain—we belong together.

And no king, man, nor law will ever separate us again.

My heart rate slows with each step I take closer to her. The pine trees’ sticky sap is the smell of home, and their towering skinny silhouettes frame me in a dark nostalgia. It must feel familiar to Daeja, too, because she spends her nights out here.

Her dark figure is curled in on itself, and the steady rise and fall of her silhouette makes me pause mid-step. But as her muscles shift beneath her, she lifts her head out from where it was tucked beneath her wing. Those breathtaking white eyes flash open, her pupils adjusting to the moonlight.

She exhales, her breath visibly billowing out in a soft cloud. “You’re awake. What are you doing out here?”

I close the gap between us and stretch out a hand toward her snout. “I wanted to come see you.”

Her nostrils flare, likely sensing Marge’s scent on my leather gloves, but she doesn’t move away from me as I stroke the ridge of her nose.

Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her muzzle into my hand like an affectionate, needy house cat.

I slide my hand underneath her chin and caress that favorite spot of hers.

A thick purr drums within her broad chest, and she turns her head sideways to lead the rest of her body to flop onto her back. With her size, the ground rumbles underneath her lazy fall. “Shouldn’t you be…I don’t know…sleeping?”

I crouch with a small smile and rub her long column of a throat. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“I don’t find that statement funny in the slightest. And as much as I’m enjoying this…” Her purr still rumbles like an accordion of thunder in her chest with every stroke of my hand on her black scales, her eyes still closed. “You shouldn’t be out of bed until you’ve healed enough to not ache.”

“If you thought a little soreness would be enough to keep me from you, then I’ve sadly misled your perception of what you mean to me.”

Her eyes flash open, and she rolls away from me to lie on her belly.

Stretching her wings out to the side with a gentle wobble, she pulls them back in and folds them into her sides.

Her gaze is soft and serious. “I’ve never doubted your affections for me.

I only want you to recover. And not just because there is no me without you. ”

A slow smile spreads across my lips. I drop down to my knees and sit back on my feet as I gaze upon the truest companion I’ve come to know. This magnificent, fearsome creature who’s so much more than others assumed she’d be.

My gaze settles on her wing where a spear punctured her during the battle in Arterias.

The wound has quickly healed over, leaving a gaping hole in the webbing.

If it weren’t for her, I would have likely been six feet under by now.

She’d saved me. More than once. And now, she has the scar to prove it.

“You risked your life…for me.”

She stretches her neck forward so her nose touches mine, lightly. “Because I can’t bear the thought of being in a world longer than one second without you.”

A surge of warmth and light swells within my chest, and I bite down on my bottom lip to contain it.

As I’m locked into her colorless eyes, a current of memories flash across my vision, all from her perspective.

Me teaching her how to fly. Me holding her as a hatchling to my chest at night to keep her warm.

Me slipping her pieces of chicken as she hid in the cover of my hooded cloak.

When she breaks our contact, the memories stop. She nuzzles my shoulder with an insistent prod. “Now, go. You can come tomorrow if you’d like, but get your sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

Too touched to argue, I nod and rise to my feet. After kissing the tip of her nose, I turn back toward the town the rebel woman I saved back in Arterias—Tawny—calls Midkeep.

Tawny became the leader of Midkeep several years ago.

The proximity to the border with Arterias classified this town as a sort of military one.

Each of the buildings are fortified in stone and brick, and the roofs are constructed with thick wooden beams. Cobblestone streets wind through the town, and all the soldiers I’ve seen so far have been adorned in metal suits.

As I near Midkeep, the thrum of approaching footsteps catches my attention, and I whip toward the sound. Long, stretching shadows approach from around a building down a street.

Shit. Guards.

We aren’t supposed to be out without supervision, especially this late at night.

I can only imagine how suspicious I look.

I quickly scan my surroundings. To my left is a stone building on the southern outskirts of the town.

The footsteps close in, and the louder the sound of boots on the cobblestones, the harder my pulse works.

Holding my breath, I dash toward the building and reach for the door handle.

My breath slips from my lips when the handle turns, allowing me entrance.

Pulling the door closed once I’m inside, I wait in darkness.

The footsteps come…and then they fade. I push the door open slightly and peer out as four guards round the corner of a building out of sight.

Smack! The sound reverberates from behind and below me, and I flinch forward, nearly tumbling out the door.

I turn to find a stone staircase winding down into the ground behind me.

The steps are illuminated by a dim flicker of flame from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, away from my view.

A miserable groan rises from its depths, and a chill races down my spine.

Part of me whispers to not venture past the top step as I stare down the staircase.

But the other part is louder.

After ensuring the door is closed, I inch down the stairs and quiet my breath by breathing through my nose. As I descend, the light glows brighter, washing the stone walls arching above me in orange.

Another slap echoes in the walls. I turn a corner, pause when I realize the staircase ends, and quickly backstep. Dropping back behind the cover of the curved wall, I press myself against the cold, wet stone. Panic floods my skin with heat. Did someone see me?

I wait. Holding out for a calling or footsteps to approach. But when another smack sounds, I finally peer around the wall’s edge.

The staircase opens out into a room encased in stone walls and floors.

Torches fastened to the wall bookend the room, casting long shadows across the ground.

Two men clad in black face away from me, one of which I recognize is the rebel’s leader—Sethan.

His ash-gray hair is stark against his dark brown skin.

The other man flicks his wrist. Liquid flies from his drenched fingers and splatters onto the ground.

As he takes a few steps back closer to Sethan, he reveals a man crumpled on his knees before them.

The man kneeling on the ground has a string of crimson drool dripping from his mouth, blood matting his brown hair.

My stomach drops.

Darian.