I wasn't seeing things. Devereaux was bleeding from a pair of sapphires. They were a part of him the same way my human eyes were a part of me. I blew out a breath. Now I had the full picture and I knew where his injuries were coming from. But I only had experience healing human wounds. What was I supposed to do about a pair of gemstones?
And... hadn't I seen them before?
With a jarring flash of memory, I recalled the very first day I met Devereaux. It was when Pascal convinced me to make a wish in the fountain, and I'd babbled out a silly fantasy in front of the gargoyle—the one with sapphires for eyes.
I raised my head to look at the fountain.
The gargoyle that perpetually sat on top of it wasn't there. The perch was empty.
I slowly returned my gaze to Devereaux as the pieces fell into place. My conclusion was completely ridiculous, wasn't it? There was no way Devereaux and the gargoyle overlooking the fountain were the same being. Stone statues didn't come alive and men couldn't transform.
Then why was there a sudden lightness in my chest, like I was relieved I'd figured out the truth?
I glanced down at him. The warm fondness that bloomed in my chest every time I looked at him didn't change. My love for Devereaux was too strong to be affected by what he was or what he looked like. None of that mattered to me. He was still the same handsome and kind man I knew, blindfolded or not.
My fingers carded through his silky black hair. I only wished I knew what to do about his bleeding sapphire eyes. My only experience with healing was with little cuts and bruises on human flesh. How could I heal sapphires?
Devereaux's weight shifted in my lap. My heart flipped in excitement. He was waking up.
He let out a soft, pained groan, then tilted his head to look at me. I thought being under the bare gaze of his sapphire eyes would feel strange, but it wasn't at all. It was still Devereaux's face, the one I'd seen so many times before, just without the blindfold.
"Oh, thank goodness you're awake," I said, sighing in relief. "I was so worried."
"Florian!" he cried. "You're here!"
"Sorry I couldn't come yesterday. I was having a terrible flare-up. But I'm okay now."
Devereaux's face softened, his sapphire eyes flashing with warmth. They were far more expressive than I expected them to be, given that they were shiny rocks.
No, they weren't just rocks. Theywerehis eyes. It was new and surprising, but it was just one more thing I liked about him.
"You were suffering a flare-up?" Devereaux asked, frowning in concern. "So that is why..."
"It happens sometimes."
"And you are sure you're feeling better?"
"Positive. Nothing was going to stop me from seeing you today."
When he smiled, his sapphire eyes lit up like fireworks, flashing a thousand shades of blue. I couldn't hide my pleasant surprise. Now that the initial shock was over, all I could think about was how beautiful they were.
"Enough about me," I said. "How do you feel? When I got here, you were passed out on the ground, and your face is still covered in blood..."
Devereaux sat up abruptly, fear settling over his expression. His hands flew to his face in a frantic motion. He touched his cheeks, dry and fresh blood coating his fingertips, but he went dead still as his hand grazed the lower parts of his sockets.
"My blindfold," he mumbled. "Where is it?"
I felt guilty again for removing it without his permission. "I'm sorry. I had to take it off because your eyes were bleeding, and—"
"My eyes!" Devereaux cried, suddenly standing up and turning his back to me. "No... Tell me you did not see them, Florian!"
The pain and fear in his voice hurt my heart. I'd never heard him like this.
"I saw them," I admitted.
Devereaux dug his nails into his hair, shaking his head as he hid his face from me. He groaned like a dying animal. "You were never supposed to see me like this..."
Hearing him in such distress hurt me. I grabbed my cane and pushed myself to my feet. "Devereaux, wait. Please calm down."
