He glanced over at me. “No. As much as I want to be out there, you’re the most precious thing right now. We can’t afford to have you captured.”
“We?” As in the Uncrowned. As in a unit. As in I was part of something—not an outsider or a liability.
He crossed back to me, that smoldering heat returning to his silver eyes. “No. Not we.” He sat on the edge of my cot and brushed a strand of hair from my face. “I can’t afford to lose you.”
I scanned the grotto. Without the Uncrowned filling the space, it felt cavernous. Empty. The fire crackled in the silence, casting long shadows across the stone walls. Somewhere, water dripped a slow, rhythmic echo that only made the quiet feel heavier.
“What do we do now?”
Darius sheathed his sword and walked back toward me, his boots soft against the stone. “Wait.” He sank onto the cot across from mine, elbows on his knees. “That’s all we can do.”
I hated that answer. Hated sitting here while the others risked their lives. While Grump’s sister waited in chains for an executioner’s blade. I wasn’t battle-ready—but I could still watch, listen, keep us from getting ambushed. I wasn’t useless.
“Do we stand guard?”
“The grotto is well defended.” His silver eyes scanned the entrance, then returned to me. “It would be difficult for anyone to enter without us knowing. And if they do—” He nodded toward the far wall. “We hide in the armory.”
The armory.
Heat flushed down my neck before I could stop it. The armory where he’d kissed me. Where his hands had slid down my back, and I’d forgotten how to breathe. Where we’d been interrupted before things went further.
We were alone now. Truly alone. Anything could happen.
My limbs felt like wet sandbags, my body too weak to do more than sit upright—but my mind was racing anyway.
As if reading my thoughts, Darius’ lips curved—just slightly. But his voice stayed steady. “You need to get some more rest.”
I held my head up high. “I can fight.”
“You’re spent, Alice.” He leaned forward, his gaze softening. “Rest now. Fight later. That’s what every warrior knows.”
“I’ma warrior.”
“You are.” He reached over and squeezed my hand.
I gave him a brief smile.
He brushed his lips over mine—soft, lingering. “Rest. I might need you later, and I need you alert.”
I sighed and gave in. It was pointless to argue. My body was spent. Tinker Bell always said magic drained you, and I’d used up everything I had on the harpy.
I stretched out on the cot, letting my eyes stay on Darius. He stood with his sword in hand, facing the door. I took in his magnificent form—the broad shoulders, the muscles that rippled with the slightest movement. He put his hat on and paced back and forth like a panther guarding his mate.
Mate. The word surfaced unbidden. He kept saying I was his. You’re mine. Always. Was that what he meant? Was that what I was to him?
The thought should have scared me. Instead, it wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
Weariness finally won, and I fell into a deep sleep.
I woke to the cot sagging beneath me. Darius sat on the edge, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Even in the dim light, I could see the exhaustion carved into his face—the shadows under his eyes, the pallor beneath his skin.
Shame pooled in my chest. He looked like he’d been through hell while I lay here doing nothing.
I slowly sat up and stretched, my muscles stiff but no longer screaming. “How long have I been asleep?”
He dropped his hand but kept his focus on the door. “About six hours.”
Six hours. And he’d been standing guard the whole time.
