I sprang up, tossing the sheets aside. Pale morning light was filtering in through the curtains. I couldn’t have been asleep long.
I swung to the door, then, realizing I was naked, scrambled on the floor for my sheet, which I wrapped around myself. The sound came again, filled with pain and terror.
I tore across the hall and flung open Finn’s bedroom door. He lay writhing on the bed. The curtains had been drawn to block out the daylight, but the lamp cast a soft glow across his body. He was stripped to his jeans, his chest slick with sweat as he clutched his bare wrist to his chest.
“Finn?”
“Go back to bed,” he tried to say casually, but his face was distorted in unmistakable pain. He writhed again, tossing his arm outward, and I saw the veins clearly; they were alive, snaking up his forearm.
“The Shadow!” My stomach hollowed out as I rushed to kneel beside him.
He nodded through clenched teeth, a shudder of pain contorting his features. His eyes rolled back as he arched off the bed, every muscle rippling with the tension of agony.
“Does this happen often?”
He shook his head, sweat beading on his brow. “Only when the veinsgrow. It usually happens when I’m run down or have been drawing upon a lot of magic.”
“Because you siphoned the curse from my arm,” I breathed, my face blanching as I brushed my fingers across his forehead. He’d known it would cause the veins to grow, yet he’d used his magic to save me.
“It doesn’t last long. You should get some more sleep.” The tattoos in Finn’s chest flexed as he drew sharp breaths, his body convulsing with another wave of pain.
“I’ll stay.” I settled on the floor, leaning over to push his damp hair from his forehead.
Finn sank back into the pillows, one jean-clad leg cocked and the other straight, his abs rising and falling with rapid breaths.
“May I?” I reached for his wrist, and he tilted his chin in assent.
His hand trembled in mine, but his pain seemed to ease as I traced the veins with gentle fingers. Three main arteries branched like roots beneath his skin, each sending out thinner lines that darkened before fading into flesh.
The ache that had been gnawing at my chest since I’d realized he was dying flared, and all the feelings that had been twisting in my gut the entire journey burst free in a single, shuddering breath. “Finn, did you kill my grandmother?”
Pain, fear, and something like sympathy flickered across his face. “No,” he said quietly.
“I-I don’t believe you.” My lower lip trembled.
He said nothing, just continued to survey me with a sad expression.
“Show me!” Tears blurred in my eyes as I squeezed his hand, willing a vision to come. But there was only darkness—the same swirling shadows that always met me when he released his shields. I let go of his hand, my brow furrowing with emotion.
“This... this is why you told me you hated me?” Finn stilled and his dark gaze swept my face.
I nodded, chewing on my lip. “When I touched the box and the rot spread through me, why didn’t you just take it and let me die? Then you could have had the prophecy all to yourself.”
His brows hiked up, and he opened his mouth and then shut it. “Honestly, is that what you think of me?”
I didn’t reply, forcing down the lump in my throat.
“I would have let that rot consume me if it meant keeping you safe.” His face had a light sheen of sweat, and then he buckled, another agonizing cry tearing out of him.
I leaned closer to him, brushing my hand across his forehead.
His voice cracked as he whispered, “I’m so sorry you lost your grandmother.”
Tears sprung from my eyes, and he reached for me, wiping them off my cheeks with his thumb.
“I’m sorry about everything.” He shook his head, onyx eyes reflecting the lamp light.
I gripped his hand, holding it tight as his frame tensed with another wave of pain. Eventually, his breathing steadied, eyes fluttering shut.
