Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lex
“It’s getting worse,” Ilyas grumbled, the hardness in his tone attempting to conceal the panic and desperation.
I couldn’t speak, the shaking in my limbs too great, as I recovered from yet another Mage Sickness-related seizure. Ilyas sat by my bedside for each one, ocean eyes growing progressively darker with worry as I convulsed, muscles locking and body spasming for agonizingly long minutes. Luckily, I would fall unconscious beforehand and had no memory or recollection of the seizure—just the residual headache, body aches, and Ilyas’ overwhelming sadness that followed.
“I-I-I’ll b-be f-fine,” I slurred, my jaw finally unlocking, even though my tongue remained fat and heavy in my mouth.
Ilyas huffed, studying my face as if trying to find a miracle, before reaching for a glass of water on my bedside table.
“Drink,” he commanded, and I obliged. He tilted the wooden cup to my lips, taking care not to spill a single drop.
“I d-don’t d-deserve y-you,” I said, relaxing back onto the pillows with a sleepy smile.
I was always worn out and exhausted following an episode and knew I’d fall asleep within minutes.
“Stop that,” Ilyas admonished, setting the cup back on the table a bit harder than necessary so water sloshed over the edge. “Stop the self-flagellation. We’ve been together for decades, Lex. You deserve me just as much as you deserve every happiness in this world. Just as much as you deserve her.”
A tentative knock on our door paused my rebuttal, and I flung my gaze to the door as it cracked open.
“Lex? Ilyas?” a feminine voice I’d know anywhere called from the hallway. “Is now a good time?”
Ilyas couldn’t conceal his surprise at Folami’s arrival, but a slow grin split my face.
I knew she’d come. Despite the fact that she’d avoided Ilyas and me since Peytor left with Ellowyn, I knew Fate wasn’t done with the three of us.
“Come in, Folami,” I called, my voice soft and raspy.
Her head poked in first, shrewd gaze assessing the interior, before her whole body followed. She closed the door with a quietsnickbut retreated no farther into our room.
“What can we help you with,ayaba?” Ilyas asked, trepidation covering a hint of hope.
Folami twined her hands together before dropping them to her sides, mouth opening and closing again before her gaze found me, propped against a dozen pillows and tucked neatly beneath the fluffiest white comforter I’d ever seen.
“What happened to you?” she barked, her harsh tone conveying the depth of her care.
A dopey grin spread across my face despite my condition. “Nothing just?—”
“He has seizures. Sometimes twice a day now,” Ilyas interrupted, refusing to make eye contact with me.
“What?” Folami’s attention turned to my Pleasure Bonded, and I grumbled a half-hearted noise of frustration. Ilyas sliced his gaze to me, imploring me to remain quiet.
“He has seizures.”
“Yes, I heard that. But why?”
“From the Mage Sickness.”
Folami shook her head. “He’s overdrawing from you?”
“You misunderstand,” Ilyas chuffed a laugh. “He’sunder-drawing. It can cause the same sickness as if you overdrew. Nose bleeds, tiredness, dizziness, seizures. Eventually, it will kill him.”
Folami frowned, eyes skating over my prone form as realization dawned.
“From your missing Pain Bond,” she whispered, fingers dusting over the scar on her exposed upper breast where her Bonding Mark once sat.
I nodded once.
