I clenched my jaw. When I dropped the key, it snapped back inside the compartment, nestling among the worms that picked up their dance again. The portrait door snapped closed and the boy in the image stared blandly my way.
I turned, my arm throbbing and my mouth dry.
Farris glanced up at me, and I gave a nod. “Let’s keep moving.”
The hall was empty and silent, which could be a good or a bad thing. Would they tell me if someone found the right key? Or would I still be searching when the sun went down and the moon started to rise?
Have you found anything?I asked Lore.
Not so far. I assume you haven’t either.
No.Keeping my breathing even and telling my damn heart to stop pounding, I opted not to tell him about my arm that throbbed and stung.
What aren’t you telling me?he barked.
How did he know when something was wrong?
A blink, and he stood in front of me, scowling, his gaze drifting up and down my body. “You’re holding something back, pretty little bride. Tell me now.”
“It’s nothing, but I’ve got a suggestion for you. Don’t poke a nest of writhing worms with a blade.”
His scowl only deepened. “Where are you hurt?”
“Who says I’m hurt?”
Rage simmered under my skin. This should have been simple. Explain the situation, get the pendant, save Lore's life. Instead, we were rats in another maze. His life was at stake here. Every moment we wasted brought him closer to death. The curse didn't care about games or politics, it only counted down. We should be able to tell them we needed the pendant, and they’d hand it over. Instead, we were trapped again, subjected again to the whim of someone who enjoyed torturous games.
He took my hands and squeezed them, staring into my eyes. “Let me carry what you hide behind your eyes. I want to stand beside you, shoulder to shoulder, until the hurt goes away.”
I stepped into his arms, hugging him. “I’m sorry. I’m irritated, and I don’t want to take it out on you.”
He leaned back in my embrace, giving me a crooked smile. “Then tell me where you’re hurt so I can help you. Love you, give you everything inside me to make you feel better.”
He didn’t let go of my hands. He didn’t push, didn’t give an order, just waited.
My heart in my throat, I nodded and showed him my wounded elbow.
He eased me back into the room, shutting the door behind us.
“Let’s take off your shirt,” he said, his brow furrowed with concern. He released the strap at my wrist first, undoing the buckle with care. Then the binding at my elbow, tucking it behind the sheath of one of knives I’d secured there earlier. He carefully undid each fastening down the front of my shirt and eased the fabric to the side, gently peeling the sleeve down my arm to expose my elbow. His jaw flexed as he worked it free.
Studying the wound, his breath hissed out. “Bad. You should’ve told me immediately, love.”
“It’s nothing.”
The grumble he released told me that to him, it was everything. But I’d received worse wounds in training or from dragons. Only adult dragons could shoot fire, but the young had decent-sized claws and fangs, let alone sparks, and they could do considerable damage as well.
When Lore spied the dagger strapped across my chest, he let out a surprised breath. “You had a blade under your tunic?”
“Don’t you?”
He snorted. “Not yet, but I believe I will in future. You’re dangerous, my love, and I adore you even more because of it.” When he glided his hand down my side and around to my back, perhaps checking for other wounds, he paused. “What’s this?” Bending around me to check out the small blade strapped there, he shook his head. “So many secrets you’re revealing to me today.”
“Evermore, Lore. Evermore.”
His gentle touch drove all thoughts of pain away. Only he existed in this moment. The wound wasn’t bad. I'd survived much worse than this.
He hissed again, his lips thinning. “Reyla. I don’t want you wounded at all. I want you lying in bed?—”
