I glance down and frown. Oh, my gods. These barbarians ripped the dress Kenzie gave me.
"You couldn't breathe, and I panicked," Baelfire says quickly. "But I'll get you any dresses you want, anytime. Or better yet, we can make Everett buy you a few million dresses. His treat."
I squint at him for a long second, still disoriented as I gather my thoughts. "You're avoiding a serious conversation. I know you two witnessed my...condition. Tell me what happened after I lost consciousness."
They exchange a glance, and then Silas sighs. "We brought you to the healers, but Crypt killed them before they could examine you. Then the prophetess, Pia, healed you."
Impossible. "What really happened?"
"I can't lie," he reminds me, his attention slipping down to my bare upper half again.
Oh. Right.
I frown, realizing that must explain how I don't feel like shit. How the hell did Pia heal me? It couldn't have been through common or blood magic. I did pick up an odd feeling from her at the Seeking. Maybe I should corner her and demand some answers.
But that will have to happen later. I have a clock in my head, slowly counting up the time that Kenzie has been missing, and when I glance out the stained glass windows of this room, I grit my teeth to see that a couple of hours must have passed.
“So, about this condition of yours," Baelfire interrupts my train of thought, tugging gently on a loose strand of my hair.
The familiarity of sitting topless in bed so close to him has my face warming. I finally pull up a blanket to cover myself, which makes Silas sigh.
"It's harmless," I lie, checking to make sure I'm still wearing my gloves out of habit. "I just pass out sometimes."
"How often?" Silas demands.
"It's happening more frequently."
That is not a lie. Each episode has been getting closer together and more severe, which is inconvenient.
"But it's nothing I can't handle. It won't get in the way of me being a decent keeper. A temporary,platonickeeper," I add pointedly, looking between them to let them know I haven't forgotten about our argument.
Baelfire snorts. "Yeah, no. That ship has sailed. Unless you want to offer a concrete, honest-as-hell reason for insisting we can't be together, accept that we're yours to keep, Boo."
I give him a sharp look.
"Mayflower," he amends, winking. "Mate. Cutie Pie. Raincloud. Take your pick."
"I pick fuck off."
"I'm not going to call you Fuck Off," he teases. "That's just rude. 'Fuck Me,' on the other hand, could definitely be worked into the mix. Especially if you moan it."
Oh, my gods. This dragon is something else.
Silas examines me like his mind is far away. "You need more sleep."
No, what I need is to find Kenzie sooner than later. And as painful as it is to admit to myself, I'm struggling to progress there. In order to track down the changeling alone, I'd have to find a way to fuel my magic, perform a ritual on its dried blood, hunt it down, probably fight it again, torture it for information, find some brutally imaginative way to kill it…
All great fun, except for the time crunch.
But Silas doesn't need anything to fuel his magic except blood. I may need to swallow my pride to speed this process along. For Kenzie's sake.
I take a deep breath. "I want your help."
His brows go up, and then a wicked grin curls his lips. "Absolutely. I'll gladly help you get to sleep, especially if you need to be worn out first."
I open my mouth and then close it. Then I rub my face to hide the warmth blooming there.
"That's not what I was talking about, and you know it."
