Callan studies me intently, a frown pulling his brows together. My eyes trace his features, taking in the scar on his lips, the faint bend in his nose. The vivid circles beneath his eyes. They seem far more pronounced than they did earlier. Such a deep purple that they almost match Esmeray’s eyes. His stubble is a little longer than it was earlier, more of a scruff that brushes against my forehead as he shifts, adjusting me. “Should I move?”
There’s no teasing. Only a quiet question.
Slowly, I shake my head.
His eyes are still that brilliant shade of bronze. Still casting, even now.
“Are your eyes always that color?” The question slips free, winning over all the others that demand to be let free. This one feels easier, making it past the pain that lingers in my throat. “I’ve only seen them when you’re using the maegis.”
His gaze fixes on the door opposite. “They’ve been this shade my whole life. I’m told that they’re more fluid when I’m casting, but otherwise, this is it.”
He looks down at me. His fingers still trace my cheek in soft, comforting patterns. “Why do you ask?”
I frown. “I was curious. They are unusual.”
A small curve to his lips appears that I cannot read, before he changes the subject. “Do you remember what happened?”
My brows fold together. “I…”
I pause. “The shadows came back.”
His brows curve over his eyes as he focuses on me. “What does that mean?”
I search for the words. Unsure how much to offer, when I know so little myself. When my lips press together, Callan sighs but doesn’t push. “Are you alright?”
I nod. “I was panicking.”
“I know.” Grim words. “I wrapped up your other wrist while you were sleeping.”
The one he’s holding against his heartbeat. Callan shifts his hold to show me the white linen, neat and tidy. His fingers flex around mine before he releases me. “I didn’t know faeytes had Traveler maegis.”
I rotate my wrist, run my fingers over the wrapping. Fight the urge to slip my fingers underneath and scratch. “They don’t. As far as I know.”
My chest tightens. “But I don’t know much, it seems. It’s possible.”
Something else that might have been kept from me, to be revealed at the right time that never came.
Callan studies me in silence. He nods over my shoulder. “You have something.”
I twist to look. I stare at the barrel. Steam curls from the top, weaving into the air and reminding me of the shadows.
“You won’t hear any grumbling from Sol for a little while,” he says quietly. “He’s been in and heated it up four times.”
Callan clears his throat. “He’s not a bad male, Selene. Aneejit,but cruelty is not his nature. I will not apologize for him when he is the one who owes you the words, but I will say that I value his friendship greatly.”
Who Callan values shouldn’t matter to me.
And yet. “He used his maegis to heat the water?”
Not just a bowl of it. The barrel is big enough for me to climb into, if I’m careful with my wings. An empty crate sits beside it, to help me climb in. To soak off the phantom filth that still clings to me, that I can never seem to get rid of no matter how hard I scratch and scrub.
But the baths help.
“Mmm.” Callan’s watching me when I turn back. His eyes crinkle at the edges. “Do you know what the pretium is for using vis maegis?”
My lips part, remembering Merrick’s words.
Callan’s smile is wry. “Speech. So I wouldn’t expect an apology from him until tomorrow, most likely, but not because he does not wish to give it.”
