His hand moved up as if to touch her, but she stepped back.
He frowned. “Are you angry?”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her fingers brushed her chest. The cold hollowness was gone, yet a bruised tenderness remained. “Do you know what a heart-place is, Kaelan?”
His frown deepened. “No. What?”
How could she explain? She only knew what Endreas had told her and what Ilene had said. It never would’ve occurred to her that a person could be made into a heart-place, but the aching wound within told her Kaelan had done just that. And even though he hadn’t done it on purpose—how could he have when he didn't even know what one was?—it still felt like a violation. Because losing him... it hadn’t simply hurt, it had killed a part of her too. He had connected himself to her somehow, given her a piece of himself and then ripped it away in the next moment. Just thinking about it brought a sob into her throat. If she had to go through that kind of loss again... she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to survive it.
“There has to be a way to undo it,” she said.
“Undo what?” he asked. “Magda, if you’re angry with me—”
“Oh... shut up, all right? Iamangry.”
“Why?”
“I can’t explain it right now. Just... give me some time.”
His pain knotted through her, stiffening the muscles in her neck. It wasn’t just that he’d accidentally made her his heart-place; they’d grown far too connected. She could feel his emotions even when they weren’t touching... it wasn’t right. It wasn’t safe.
“I’m happy you’re alive, Kaelan,” she said.
“Are you sure about that?”
She growled. “If you hadn’t just been killed, I’d...”
He crossed his arms, glowering down at her. “What? You’d send me back to my forest with my nymph? That’s not your decision. And I don’t want to go back—”
She set the stinger down, so she could knead her throbbing temples. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up? I’m trying to think.”
“No, Magda, I need to tell you—”
“You have to change,” she said as the thought suddenly appeared in her head.
His brow furrowed, glancing down at his clothes. “I don’t have—”
“No, not clothes,” she said. “Your face.”
He touched his jaw. “What’s wrong with my face?”
“Nothing. Don’t you see? Ilene thinks you’re dead. Which means the King will think you’re dead.”
His eyes widened. The green finally grew brighter than the redness. “They’ll stop hunting me.”
“And stop worrying about that damned prophecy,” she said. “If we can change your appearance, you can live freely and no one will know any better.”
He turned grim. “We’d need a witch for that. Or another empusa or some other dire creature. And the price would be steep.”
She snatched up the blanket-wrapped bundle of stingers. “I just happen to have some very rare manticore venom that I’m sure will be irresistible to a certain witch I know.”
“What about Lavana?” he asked. “You don’t have time—”
“I’m in no shape to face her. We have time.”
“But what if—”
“I know,” she said. “But this is more important. If Lavana isn’t Radiant yet, I need you. And if she is, then I need you. But I don’t need the King sending anymore of his menagerie after us.”
