“How are you here?” My voice is little more than a pathetic croak.
“I was worried.”
“Worried, but—” I try to push away, my fingers splayed out on the large, unbroken expanse of his hard chest.Dragon hells, the man is carved like one of the stone sculptures of Mercy Knights that loom over the Grand Chapel. I step back, breaking contact, and the shaking instantly returns, worse than before.
“Don’t move.” Lucan’s arms tighten around me, pulling me against him again. One of his hands spreads between my shoulder blades. The other, at the small of my back. I’m held so tightly, I barely have room to breathe. The world spins. “Give yourself a moment,” he says.
“But—”
“I’m helping you.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, hand hovering a second too long, knuckles brushing my cheek.
It’s then I realize that the motes of light aren’t just the haze of the Font or remnants of what I just endured. They’re real and happening right now. Etherlight flows between us like it did in the chapter house.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. His hand still hovers, near enough to feel his warmth. “Let me lead, Isola.”
Fingertips lightly brush my cheek, though I don’t think he’s moving any hair this time. There wasn’t any reason for him to touch me at all. But he is. Lucan’s eyes drop to my mouth, and his fingertips are quick to follow. His thumb drags slowly across my lower lip, and my breath hitches. He tightens his hold at the small of my back, like he needs to be even closer.
There is no space between us. I feeleverything. Every flat expanse of muscle, every divot and curve. I feel him through the thin fabric of my smallclothes, and my skin aches.
What would it feel like if he brushed his thumb lower? Down my neck? Lower still?
The heat that started as familiar and comfortable is now a blaze, flushing up my chest and over my face.
“Lucan,” I rasp. All I seem to know is his name. All other thoughts have vanished. It’s just him. Endlessly glorious him.
“How are you feeling?” he murmurs. He’s so close that I feel his breath on my face. Close enough that I could kiss him if I wanted to.
And I want to.
The realization is somehow more terrifying than facing down a dragon.
“I feel horrible.” Yet also amazing at the same time. How is this so confusing? My body has just been torn apart and put back together. But as long as his hands are on me, I feel like I could do anything.
He nods. “There’s only so much I can do with a healing sigil.”
“You should go before they catch you.”
“I’m not leaving you.” His hands tighten further, if that’s possible, as if to prove the point.
“If they find you, you’ll be in trouble.”
“Then I’ll be in trouble.”
“Lucan…” I search his face for a hint of doubt. He’s ready to stay here with me until I’m ready, come what may.
“I’m not leaving you, Isola.” He brushes my cheek with his knuckles again, and my whole body is ablaze. The light around us seems even brighter.
“Because I saved your life,” I say on a broken whisper.
“Because you’reyou,” he corrects me but doesn’t elaborate further.
My breath catches and my body goes rigid as hasty, uneven footsteps echo down to us. I push away from him, and the moment I do—the moment I am out of his Etherlight aura—I instantly feel worse. Everything comes crashing down on me at once. My joints ache. My skin hurts. My eyes burn as though acid has been poured into them.
“Isola—”
“I’m going to need you to do me a favor, Lucan.” With a groan, I manage to take another step back. And I’m nearly sick again. My symptoms are worse than ever before, and there’s only one thing that I know that will alleviate this agony: Mum’s tinctures.
“What?” He straightens away from the wall, concern blazing in his eyes. I probably look as awful as I feel.
