The reminder of what happened flashes through my mind in warped hazy images.
“I’m a dragon,” I whisper.
A quiet chuckle hums from his throat. “Mmm, a gorgeous, terrifying dragon. You were like looking at the fuckin’ sun and seeing light for the first time. It was unbelievable.” His fingers slip through my hair as he pushes my locks back from my face. “I’ve never seen such a creature so terrifyingly beautiful,” he whispers.
Pain pounds through my head, but I don’t want to pull away from his warm touch. It’s the only good thing I can focus on right now. My fingers slip over his and I hold him there along my cheek. I caused chaos and uproar, and I don’t even know how the hell I did it.
“Are they mad?” I ask with a hard swallow against the pain of my voice.
A heavy silence pauses between us, pressing and pushing for a few seconds.
“Just get some sleep, beautiful. Zilo will be back soon with more medicine. Everything’s fine.” He continues that soothing press of his fingertips through my hair, but it isn’t as calming as it was moments before.
Because despite what he said, I can one thing for certain: Everything is not fine.
I sleep so soundly. It’s like I’ve exhausted every part of my mind, body, and soul.
When I wake, cold water is sliding down my temple. It stings but then numbs entirely.
“Ow,” I say on a delayed, gravelly voice.
My lashes open slowly to find serious, worried emerald eyes staring down on me.
I’ve never seen Zilo look at me with so much intensity before. His lips part to speak, but not a single sound slips out. Instead, he reaches for a cup of water that sits beside a small flickering candle.
“Here.” He shoves the thing my way but doesn’t assist me further.
He distractedly peers around the little stone room he and I are alone in.
“Where’s Roman and Avian?” I ask once the cold water sooths my scratchy throat.
It doesn’t heal it, but it does help.
A little.
“Cersia . . .” He still won’t meet my gaze.
I forget the drink in my hand as I blink up at how afraid he is to say whatever it is he’s not saying.
“She’s going to kill you,” he finally says as his eyes close, and a breath that seems to have been caught in his lungs shoves out in one big heap.
“What? Who?”
His attention slowly finds me, and his hand slides over the dirty floor to tangle his fingers through mine.
“You killed Seelvie. You killed Creatchin’s mother, Cersia.”
My mouth opens. And then closes slowly.
“I . . . I killed her.”
He nods. “When your beast took over. She attacked, and you... you snapped her up in one bite.”
She was the flying fae . . .
The worry he has about Creatchin isn’t even a thought in my head.
“Where’s Nyra?” I push my hands beneath me to get up, but my arms give out, and I hit the floor with a thud.
