Lunara wasn’tsure how long it had been since she’d started—she couldn’t even be sure it was the same day. There were vague recollections hovering in her memory of someone coming in here and there, leaving food, bringing a chair up beside her.
If her life depended on it, though, she wouldn’t have been able to say who’d visited or whether they’d spoken. She’d had no energy for anything other than Baldrir.
Stars above, Baldrir.
Whoever had delivered such cruelty upon him was… there weren’t words. Far worse than any of the others likely realized, but Lunara would not be disclosing the extent of the damage. The indignity of it. The Demon should be allowed to decide whether to share, when he was ready.
If he was ever ready.
For his sake, Lunara hoped Baldrir couldn’t remember. That every part had been lost forever in a merciful haze. If not, she might be able to help him forget anyway.
His body, at least, was finally at ease.
Lunara finished cleaning away the dried blood and lingering filth, and covered him in a long, linen tunic. She had no idea whether it was a garment the Demons were used to, but his skin would feel sensitive for a few days—too new and raw for anything he might have been used to before—and he would need the room it provided.
Anyone who saw him would never know what had been done to him. He looked peaceful. Young and proud. Vibrant in his rest.
As for Lunara, she’d hardly moved from her perch beside him, and her body was convinced it was the only position she was capable of from now until the end of forever.
She spotted the deep, cushioned chair beside the bed from the corner of her eye, definitely closer than it had been before—thank the Sisters and whoever had thought of it.
Right. It isn’t even far. Just twist, push, collapse.
Easier said than done, unfortunately.
Bracing a hand against the mattress, she blew out a slow breath. Then another. Convincing herself it wouldn’t be so bad—that it wouldn’t be exactly like the last time, and the time before—was always the hardest part.
Lunara knew the truth, though. Hence her stalling.
Go on, then. Get it over with.
With a hissing gasp, she turned herself and flopped onto her stomach, her useless legs dangling from the bed. With arms that could barely hold her, she leveraged her torso and shoved backwards.
She hit the seat, the chair’s legs screeching across the floor. Shallow breaths and gritted teeth were her only answer to the anguish as every nerve ending went up in flames.
And cursing.
“Shitting Sisters’ tits.” A whimper left her against her will, her joints dripping in acid. “Veil fucking take me.”
Just settle in and let the jagged edges soften. It’s fine. You’re fine.
Surely the Demon King wouldn’t mind if Lunara lived in this cushy seat for the rest of her life. She could request it as her payment.
Slowly—so, so terribly slowly—the stabbing, burning sensation dissipated, and a heavy sigh left her. Only dull throbs remained in their place, flaring and retreating in waves. This, Lunara could handle.
Good thing Baldrir’s sleep wasn’t a natural one. The jostling she’d just given him would have woken anyone else.
A tray of cheese, bread, and various fruits had been placed on a low table butted up against the chair arm. And, if her eyes were not deceiving her, a goblet of blood.
Something between a laugh and a sob bubbled out of her, and Lunara let her hand fall to the rim. Gripping it as tightly as she was able, she wished all the goodness that Bordoroth had to offer upon the wonderful, lovely creature who’d brought it to her.
“Please, hand,” she whispered into the silence. “Please don’t drop it.”
It wouldn’t work as well as blood gifted straight from the source—an intimate experience if ever there was one, and something she absolutely avoided—so it was perfect. It would subdue the worst of her symptoms and allow her to relax without regaining too much of her power.
“Cheers, Baldrir. To your continued health.”
With both hands clenched around it, she brought the cup to her lips and managed a sip. As soon as a modicum of strength came back to her, Lunara tipped her head back and gulped the rest down, trembling with desperation.
