Mama, singing a lullaby. The feel of thread between her fingers. The creak of a loom, steady and rhythmic as a heartbeat.
Dani’s laugh, bright as bells.
Green eyes glowing in darkness, watching over her. Always watching.
“—fever’s breaking?—”
“—not enough, need more?—”
“—drink this, please, you have to drink?—”
Time lost all meaning. She swam through a sea of confused images, reaching for shore and never quite finding it.
Tarek’s hand, holding hers, squeezing so tight it hurt.
“Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
A child’s voice: “Is she going to die?”
“No.” Fierce and absolute. “I won’t let her.”
She woke to stillness and the soft crackling of a fire.
The ceiling above her was familiar—stone smoothed by time, flickering with reflected light. The bed beneath her was large and soft, covered in furs that smelled faintly of herbs and woodsmoke.
The big bedroom. The one she and Tarek were supposed to share.
She tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Her body felt wrung out, weak as a kitten. Her left ankle throbbed with a deep ache that spoke of recent trauma.
“Don’t move.”
Tarek appeared in her field of vision, his face haggard with exhaustion, shadows deep beneath his eyes. How long had he been awake? How long had she been unconscious?
“What—” Her voice came out as a croak. “Water?”
He held a cup to her lips, supporting her head while she drank. The water was cool and sweet, soothing her parched throat.
“You were bitten,” he said, when she’d drunk her fill. “A mountain viper. Not usually deadly, but the venom is… unpleasant. You’ve been unconscious for a day and a half.”
“A day and a?—”
“I extracted what I could at the site. The rest had to work its way out of your system.” His voice was steady, but his hands shook slightly as he set down the cup. “Your fever broke two hours ago. You’re going to be fine.”
She reached for him, her fingers clumsy but determined. She found his hand and held on.
“You saved me.”
“I should have seen it sooner. I should have checked the area before letting you reach?—”
“Tarek.” She squeezed his fingers until he met her eyes. “You saved me. Stop blaming yourself and accept my gratitude.”
Something crumpled in his expression. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm, his eyes closing as if in prayer.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered against her skin. “For a moment, carrying you back here, I thought?—”
“I’m here.” She reached up with her other hand, touching his face, feeling the tension in his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He gathered her into his arms, careful of her injured leg, and held her like she was the only solid thing in a world gone liquid. She felt him trembling, felt the desperate strength of his grip, and understood something fundamental. He needed her as much as she needed him.
