“Nikator, say it.” Another gasp wrenched from her.
He didn’t want to give in—she could see it all over his face. He didn’t want to indulge her in something so small, yet so meaningful.
“Nik—”
“Biyu,” he finally breathed when it seemed he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He cradled the side of her face with his rough, calloused hand. His thumb brushed over her swollen lips. “You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. You’re too much. Always—you’ve always been so beautiful.”
Sweat plastered her hair onto her neck. Her moans filled the room and before long, they both crashed over the precipice. They both breathed heavily, labored, and then he fell on top of her, his bandages bleeding, and sweat rolling off his face. His hand trailed over her heart. A stream of heat followed in the wake of his touch.
They both remained on the floor in a mess of naked, sweaty limbs. His blood had smeared over her chest and his own, and other fluids glistened on her inner thighs. For a moment, he only stared at her.
Silent.Possessive.
Finally, he pulled himself into a sitting position. His dressings were completely soaked through, and it was only now that the fervent haze of desire had lifted that horror settled in. She lurched forward on her knees, hand outstretched toward his wounds.
“Oh, Nikator, I’m so sorry?—”
“Where are you keeping the water?”
“Oh. I—” She pointed to the pitcher beside the pile of blankets he had slept in for the past week. She wrung her hands together while he grabbed the handle and drank from the mouth of it. A tiny stream trickled down the side of his mouth while he drained the container. “I’ve been getting the water from the well outside. I checked to see if there was anything in there—creatures or dead … body parts. It’s clean.”
He set the now-empty pitcher on the floor. He looked even more exhausted than before. “And thejiangshi? Did you check its body?”
She bobbed her head. “When the sun rose, I watched its body turn to dust.”
“Good.”
This stiff, formal, business-like talk wasn’t normal after their passionate coupling; they should have been in each other’s arms still, murmuring sweet nothings in each other’s ears. But he was drawing clear boundaries between them. It hadn’t meant anything.
You are a mistake I’ve made one too many times.
His harsh words echoed in her mind. She took the edge of one of the tattered, mildew-smelling blankets and wrapped it over her bare shoulders. He watched the action with little interest. His jaw clenched together, expression carved from stone, as he turned to inspect the rest of the house they had been staying in.
“The wards surrounding this village must have failed,” he said glumly. “Or they ran out of magic crystals, or mages … or they were foolish enough to sell the magic crystals supplying the wards.”
Biyu drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. Under her father’s reign, only the populated cities had been warded against monstrous creatures and beings. Usually,the lords had to pay for the supplies—the crystals, the mages to check on them, and the spells themselves. Only the wealthy cities could afford such protection, but even then, the slums were known to have thinner wards. Villages like this had no need for protection. According to Father, at least. “Does the emperor supply wards to small villages like this?”
He eyed her warily. “Of course. Every village receives wards. Usually, the crystals need to be checked monthly and changed. Whoever is in charge of this village likely hasn’t visited it just yet. It’s also possible the village chief sold the crystals, since they fetch a high price.”
“It’s also possible the mages are shirking their duties.”
“Perhaps.” He rubbed his temples. “I need to report this and bury the dead.”
Another bout of silence persisted between them. The fire continued to lick at the hearth. Biyu wound the thin blanket tighter around her body. An emptiness festered within her the more she remained here. It was jarring to be in his arms and then suddenly thrust into this cold, detached space where neither could look at the other. Where he only spoke in a clipped tone.
She missed when he would kiss her tears away. Clean her up. Whisper sweet things in her ear. Let her snuggle up on his arm and fall asleep. It had soothed the darkest, most hollow, most broken parts of her soul. Had repaired parts of her she hadn’t even realized had been neglected for years.
And now that it was gone, she craved it.
“Clean yourself up,” he said, softer this time. He still wasn’t looking at her. He rummaged through a basket she had collected and filled with medical supplies. He pulled out a wad of bandages and began peeling his bloodied ones off. “Some of the stitches have come undone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need.” He grimaced as the last of the dressings fell on his lap. Now that he was upright and the light was shimmering on him, she could see how messy her stitches were. How uneven they appeared. How unskilled she was.
Biyu crawled over to where her crumpled, discarded dress laid, and snatched it up. She dressed hurriedly, hating this strange feeling festering within her. What was it? Rejection? It ran deeper than that. Guilt? No, she was accustomed to that feeling. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it burrowed its ugly fangs into her heart and sucked out all the joy.
She felt pathetic.
