LYRAE
Iwoke to the same godsdamned snoring that kept me up half the night, and to make things worse, Ryland’s hand hung over the edge of the bed, those long, artist’s fingers somehow tangled up with mine.
I peeled those fingers off my own, ever so carefully extricated myself and sat up, bones groaning, muscles painfully stiff.
Varian’s eyes popped open and stared straight into mine, not a single part of him moving except for the awareness growing in those golden eyes. For a long moment we stared at each other, until Ryland rolled over, the bed creaking as he stretched. “God, what a fucking uncomfortable mattress. I hardly slept a wink.”
His mocking grin grew wickeder. “How didyousleep, Lady Lyrae? You look fresh as a daisy.”
“She’s clearly exhausted, you asshole. And what’s all over your shirt?” Varian asked quietly, already on his feet, padding closer. “Looks like blood.”
“Nothing, just a few cuts from the straps yesterday.” I tried rolling my shoulders and my bloodied shirt peeled off a layer of skin, pulling the wounds open.
Varian’s nostrils flared as he dropped to his knees beside me, yanking my shirt collar back. “You should have saidsomething,” he snapped. “I could have treated these last night, and you would be healed by now. At least enough for today’s walk. You were always stubborn, Lyrae, but this takes obstinate to new levels.”
“I expected them to disappear,” I admitted, trying not to move, because they really did hurt. “This is nothing but a nuisance. They’ll be gone by tonight.”
Varian fished around inside his pack while Ryland swung his feet off the bed, tousled hair framing his face as he leaned closer, eyes widening when he saw my bloodstained shirt. He reached out and I slapped his hand away. “It’s nothing,” I said crankily. “Besides, why do you even care?”
“I never would have…you should have slept in the bed last night. I was just trying to be…”
“An asshole?” I supplied, listing my brow as Varian pulled a metal tin out of his pack. “Well, congratulations, you succeeded.”
“Funny,” Ryland muttered, smoothing his hair out of his face. “I was trying to befunny, and I fully intended to swap with you, but I fell asleep.”Yet you fucking managed to end up holding my hand, I wanted to point out, but didn’t.
“Unbutton your shirt,” Varian murmured, then added, “I need to see how bad they are, Lyrae, that’s all.” I hesitated, then decided my body was just a body. Nothing special. Nothing the two of them hadn’t seen before, back in the day. Varian unscrewed the top and my senses flooded with the strong scent of arnica and lavender, undercut with a strong antiseptic.
“This will sting, but you will be better by tonight, since Ryland and I will take turns carrying your pack. Tilt your head to the side…yes, just like that. Now take a deep breath, try not to move until I’m finished.”
Varian’s fingers were gentle as he dragged them over my bare shoulder, down to my collarbone and then over my shoulder, to where my shoulder blade poked out. Again and again, his fingers smoothed and circled, as tenderly as butterfly wings, until my eyes drifted closed.
It had been a long time since I’d allowed anyone else to treat my wounds, unless I couldn’t reach them myself, and as a rule, battlefield healers didn’t exactly have the lightest touch.
But this…this felt divine.
I was being selfish right now, enjoying this so much, wanting things to be the way they once were.
But even if Varian wasn’t responsible for Ariel’s capture, even if she might still be alive—and I couldn’t allow myself even the slightest sliver of hope, not after so long—they’d still abandoned me and our friends to rot while they’d walked free.
That part of the past was immutable.
Indefensible.
When I opened my eyes, Ryland was staring, his heavy-lidded eyes missing nothing as I quickly buttoned my shirt, a bundle of nerves.Stupid.This was stupid, the way my body burned for him still, the way all I could think about was that was exactly how he looked, right before he kissed me.
“There.” Var’s voice was tight and pissy and scolding and oh, so Varian. “The bleeding’s stopped, and in a few hours, you’ll grow new skin over those injuries. No carrying anything, and no scratching until tomorrow, because those will itch.” I heard the telltale metallic grind as he screwed the lid back on the tin, the aromatic smell blocking out the sour smell of the dingy room.
We were out the door in a matter of minutes, down the narrow, creaking steps and into the dirt lane, where Rylandheaved his pack over one sturdy shoulder and mine over the other.
“Wait here.” Ryland ordered, then headed toward the knot of men smoking on the corner, collars turned up against the morning chill. And in the twenty steps he took to reach them, Ryland Storme did what he did best.
Became someone else.
He dropped his shoulders beneath the twin packs, his stance shifting from a warrior’s fluid, sure-footed stride to a halting, non-threatening shuffle. His face smoothed into a blander version of eagerness and by the time he raised a hand to ask directions to the next city, the males waved him closer.
“He’s so damn good at that.” Varian shook his head. “Five minutes, and he’ll know everything there is to know about the prince, including where to find him.”
I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.
