Page 19

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D aisy couldn’t have said how long she slept, or when she awoke.

But when her gritty eyes blinked open, she was still trapped in the exact same nightmare. In the same bed, in the same sickroom, with the same —

She squeezed her eyes shut, but the image of him was still there, etched in sharp relief behind her eyelids. Filak . Sitting close beside her bed, and staring at her with bottomless black eyes.

Daisy swallowed hard, hauled in a deep, shaky breath. Maybe she’d imagined him. Maybe she was still overtired, befuddled, wounded…

But nothing actually hurt, not her head or her hands, and when she warily blinked her eyes open again, Filak was still there. Sitting on something beside her bed — a bench of some kind — and leaning forward toward her, his elbows on his knees, his shadowed eyes searching her face.

“Daisy,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “ Líeur tér betur ?”

A sharp shiver rippled up Daisy’s spine, and she darted a look toward the rest of the room — or rather, what she could see of it, around the dividers blocking off either side of the bed. But there was no one else in sight, she was alone with Filak , what would he do now, oh gods, oh gods…

“Daisy,” Filak said again, snapping her eyes back toward him. To where he was leaning forward even more, his hands gripping tightly together, his long black talons digging into his pale skin. “ I am… sorry.”

What? Daisy stared blankly at him, as her heart skipped a beat in her chest. Had he said — surely he hadn’t said — he couldn’t speak common-tongue, he was —

“I am — sorry,” he said again, harder this time, steadier, though the words sounded wrong in his voice, the accent jolting, the stress misplaced. “ I am — sorry, Daisy . I am — sorry.”

It spasmed into Daisy’s chest, blared behind her staring eyes, and she could hear Filak’s swallow, could see it bobbing in his throat. “ I am — sorry,” he said again. “ Sól — sólin mín .”

His long-taloned hand jerked to touch his chest, skittering against the pale marked skin over his heart. And blinking toward it, Daisy caught something that most certainly hadn’t been there before.

He now had a sun there, too. A matching sun, just like the one he’d drawn over Daisy’s heart. Sólin mín.

Daisy’s bottom lip quivered, and she had to force her eyes away, blink back the foolish wetness prickling behind them. Stupid . Stupid .

“ Nei , Filak ,” she whispered, toward the bed, toward the heavy fur lying over her, which she hadn’t even noticed until now. “ You — you kidnapped me. You shouted at me. You chained me to a wall, you left me alone in a dungeon, you gagged me with my own art —”

Her voice broke, her head shaking, because of all the awful things Filak had done, that still somehow hurt the most. Him taking all her worst doubts and fears, taking the work she’d fought so hard for, her life’s ruined calling, and shoving it down her throat. Using it to silence her. To defeat her. To crush all her foolish, silly dreams into stark, miserable truth.

Nei, Daisy . Nei .

“I am — sorry,” came Filak’s hoarse, halting reply. “ I am — sorry, Daisy mín . Sólin mín .”

It lanced more pain through Daisy’s chest, more tight stinging behind her eyes. “ But you still did it,” she whispered. “ Just like all the other things you did without my permission, too. Trapping me in that cave, crushing my ring, tattooing me, breaking into my apartment. I was so stupid to trust you, to think I knew you, understood you, when you only ever…”

Her voice trailed off, and she rubbed hard at her eyes, digging her fingers so deep it hurt — until something caught her wrist. Something warm, strong, familiar, safe.

Daisy’s heartbeat stuttered, and she froze in the bed, her eyes snapping to Filak’s face. To how he was still looking at her with those dark, shadowed eyes, his mouth tight and sad. “ ég veit ae ég var grimmur ,” he said. “ ég hefei átt ae vera betri .”

But Daisy couldn’t understand it, just like Filak couldn’t understand her, and his warm callused fingers spread a little wider against her skin, almost like a caress. “ Mig langar ae biejast afsokunar ,” he added, quieter, as his other hand rose, and drew a cross over that new sun on his heart. “ Mig langar ae b?ta tér tetta upp .”

Again it meant nothing, nothing, and Daisy needed to remember the crash of falling stone, the sickening ball of wet paper in her mouth, the horror of the darkness, the click of cold metal around her neck. And her other hand twitched up to that metal, clutching tight against it, feeling those distinct ridges upon it, because of course it was still there. He’d still done that to her. He had .

Filak’s eyes had followed her hand to her neck, and his breath shuddered out heavy and slow, harsh enough that she felt it on her skin. “ I am sorry,” he said again, even lower. “ Tessi kraga átti ae vera gjof til tín. ég hefei aldrei átt ae nota hana svona gegn tér .”

But it was more empty, meaningless words, rattling inside Daisy’s head, even when Filak’s hand slowly rose toward her, and stroked gently against her neck. His warm long fingers curving against both the metal ring and Daisy’s skin, drawing up gooseflesh, firing a hard shiver down her back…

And together with his watching, glimmering eyes, it had to mean — he wanted it there. He’d wanted Daisy to have it, to wear it. And he hadn’t meant it this way, he was…

“I am sorry,” he said again, as his mouth twisted, contorting with something like grief. “ I am sorry, sólin mín .”

And for a shuddering, hanging instant, Daisy desperately wanted to believe him. Wanted to nod, and clutch at him, and drag him over onto the bed. Wanted to feel his warm tall body over hers, his firm stroking hands, his hot tongue tasting her skin. Wanted to feel him speak the only language they both understood…

But — no. No . She couldn’t. She’d already been so foolish, so unthinkably, pathetically stupid. With Lew , with Sybil . With the cave, the ring. The chain, the dungeon, the Kraitish , the poison, the mass murder…

No. She needed to forget Filak . She needed to be finished with Filak , forever. Needed to stop believing he cared, needed to stop indulging her stupid naive fantasies, stop believing all those tempting stupid lies. She wasn’t desirable, she wasn’t a real artist…

And maybe Filak saw the truth of it, his hand stilling on Daisy’s neck, his eyes rapidly searching her face. His mouth opening, as if to say…

“Filak?” demanded a sharp, vaguely familiar voice. “ How the hell did you get in here again?”

Daisy jolted to look, wrenching backwards out of Filak’s grip, as her heart thundered into her throat. It was Kesst again, now looking rumpled and bleary-eyed, and jabbing a pointed claw toward the door. “ Out ,” he snapped. “ Daisy’s here to rest . Not to put up with even more utterly atrocious behaviour from the likes of you !”

Filak’s eyes narrowed dangerously toward Kesst , but he didn’t move, and his hand had even found Daisy’s neck again, stroking gently against it. The movements purposeful, possessive, blatantly defiant, and again there was that appalling overpowering urge to clutch back toward him, to yank him close, to forget everything.

“ Daisy er mín ,” Filak told Kesst , his lip curling. “ Mín .”

Daisy is mine , it meant. Mine .

But no, no, no, Daisy had to forget him, no . And it took far too much effort for her to yank away from his touch again, to whip her head back and forth, drawing in the too-thin air…

“No,” she croaked, perhaps to herself, or to Filak , or all of them. “ No , please. Nei , Filak . Nei .”

Filak drew back and blinked at Daisy , his head tilting sideways. His eyes searching and intense and maybe even pleading as his mouth opened again, about to say, Nei , Daisy , mín …

“ Nei , Filak ,” Daisy said, louder now, against it, against him, against herself. “ Nei . I can’t. I’m not . Please , just — just go.”

There was an instant’s silence, Filak’s eyes still far too intent on hers — and then Kesst spoke again, snapping out more harsh words Daisy couldn’t understand. But Filak surely did, and he betrayed a brief, visceral flinch, a low hiss in his throat.

“Daisy,” he said again, as his hand again rose to his heart, drawing that cross over his sun. “ Gereu tae, Daisy . I am sorry.”

Kesst’s scoff was loud and disbelieving, and he launched into more foreign snarled words, speaking faster and sharper now, and again jabbing his claw toward the door. Clearly telling Filak , Get out. Now .

Filak watched Kesst in silence, as cold, unmistakable contempt flared through his eyes, but then he glanced back at Daisy , his black brows raised. Asking , perhaps, You truly mean this? You want me to go?

And suddenly Daisy couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear to answer, couldn’t bear for him to leave. But Kesst had already barked something else, the healer’s name Efterar very clear within it, and after another moment’s ringing silence, Filak exhaled a low growl, and rose to his feet. His body so impossibly tall, so pale and marked and gaunt, and Daisy wouldn’t look, no…

“ Sofeu vel, sólin mín ,” came his hoarse voice. “ ég mun vinna mér inn traust titt aftur og endurheimta hjarta titt sem mitt eigie. ég sver tae. ”

Daisy still didn’t look up, but when Filak finally walked away, she could almost feel his footsteps, his increasing distance, deep in her gut. And there was the ridiculous, absurd temptation to call after him, to bring him back, to hear him call her sólin mín again…

But no. No . He was gone. He needed to be gone. She needed to forget him. No . Nei .

But even as Daisy silently repeated that — nei, nei, nei — her eyes darted up to Kesst , still standing near the end of her bed. “ What …” she whispered, “what did he say?”

Kesst sighed, and shot a narrow, disgruntled look toward where Filak had gone. “ Are you sure you want to know?” he asked flatly. “ If you ask me, you’d be better off never knowing anything he says again.”

Daisy couldn’t hide her wince, her hands clutching compulsively at her fur. While above her, Kesst sighed, slow and heavy and resigned.

“He said,” he replied, clipped, “he’ll soon prove himself to you as your mate, and gain you as his own.”

It twisted in Daisy’s chest — nei, nei, nei — and Kesst sighed again, and met her eyes with something not unlike pity.

“And he said,” he continued, his voice low with foreboding, “he’ll be back.”