I glance at Everett, who has been scowling since I mentioned leaving tonight, then at Silas, who quietly hisses at Baelfire to keep walking and not make us look vulnerable. Ever since I lost my temper and decided to stop fighting this, a sense of rightness has started seeping into my bones.
It's incredibly fucking selfish of me, but they're mine now.
Even Crypt, despite his bothersome absence. I'm starting to detest the fact that I don't feel him stalking me from Limbo nearly all day long.
When Baelfire finally insists he's okay, we return to our quintet apartment. Bael mutters that he needs a "long-ass fucking shower" and heads down the hall. Silas starts rummaging through random spell ingredients in the kitchen, and surprisingly, Everett follows him inside and checks the fridge.
He catches me observing him and grumbles, "You need to eat dinner, and I highly doubt your pet lizard can manage cooking tonight."
"There's a dining hall," I point out.
"The one full of legacies who would try to kill you in a heartbeat? Yeah, that's not happening."
I give him a deadpan look. "I just gave you all a front-row seat to the fact that I excel at homicide. Shocking as it may be, picking up food is well within my wheelhouse."
But when I turn away, a foot-thick sheet of ice crackles into existence, blocking the front door. Everett hasn't even looked up from digging in the fridge.
"There you go. Accuracy. Now you should go and get that cut on your face cleaned."
I open my mouth, ready to tell him to?—
"Fuck off," Silas snaps before I can as he levels Everett with a surprisingly savage glare. "You shouldn't have even followed us in here. Get out.Now."
"I can at least be allowed to make sure she's fuckingeating,"the ice elemental grits out.
"Those whocareabout her will do that. So get. The hell. Out."
Everett's jaw flexes, and he slams the fridge closed as he turns to face Silas, but it's like someone opened the freezer instead because abruptly, my breath comes in white plumes in front of my face. For a moment, Silas and Everett go toe to toe, looking equally pissed off as icy flurries drift through the kitchen. Then Everett's expression transforms into the same miserable, defeated one he was wearing earlier…when Silas chewed him out for getting aroused after tackling me.
I study the interaction until things click together. "You guys think Everett is somehow a danger to me. Why?"
Everett winces and turns toward the front door. "Forget it, Oakley."
He storms out, the ice block shattering at his fingertips before he slams the front door behind himself. Such a strong reaction…but then it's slowly becoming clear that he's putting up a facade where I'm concerned.
I'm going to make his facade shatter just like that ice.
Silas mutters something in fae about Everett being a selfish ass and turns to me. "Here,sangfluir."
"You can't heal me, remember?"
"I know. But you can use your own magic now," he says carefully, studying me as if he's worried I'll react badly. "After you ended the others, you were able to use potent magic on that last rival. Perhaps you're more a siphon than a caster because, to me, it seems as if you…fed."
By killing.
He doesn't say that part out loud, but it's just as true unspoken.
When I don't deny it, he gently takes one of my gloved hands, presses the healing ingredients into it, and then places a kiss near my temple. I tilt my face up toward him. For a moment, he seems captivated by my eyes and the cut on my cheek. Then he steps away, giving me space to breathe after all that nearness and…touching.
"Heal yourself,ima sangfluir. I'll return later."
"You're leaving?"
"If you're intent on leaving the wards tonight, I insist on crafting an extremely potent concealment potion to mask our scents and magic footprints. I'll be back soon."
Placing one more feather-light kiss against my temple, Silas leaves. I hear the shower running down the hall as Baelfire washes away all the gore. Otherwise, it's silent as I sit at the dining table and crush moonflower petals. Twisting the tiniest amount of necromancy into healing magic, I create something that will actually work on me.
By the time my face is healed, Baelfire reemerges from the hallway with nothing on except the leather collar and a black towel around his waist. His cuts have healed, leaving nothing but golden skin and endless muscles.
