“I’m fine,” he mutters, teeth clenched. But I can see the blood soaking through the fabric of his tunic, the torn skin along his shoulder where a carnoraxis must’ve gotten him. “Just bruised.”
I place my hand gently over the wound. Power swells between my fingers, flowing through to heal him. The ache inside me is constant now,like something trying to claw its way out. I press harder, pushing the energy through my palm. The bleeding slows. The angry red of the wound begins to pale.
He watches me with something quiet and terrible in his eyes. Then his expression changes. He draws me in suddenly, fingers curling around my face, calloused thumb brushing the curve of my cheek. His eyes search mine, as though he’s still not entirely convinced I’m real.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he breathes. “When I went to your rooms and you weren’t there—when no one knew where you’d gone—I thought maybe… maybe you’d run.”
I shake my head. “No. I would never.”
“I didn’t believe it. Not really. But the king—he did. He said you’d betrayed us. He wanted to take Delasurvia by force. I fought him. I left the capital without permission, rode to your uncle, to the Garrison, hoping you were there. But you weren’t. And I… I couldn’t breathe.” His voice cracks. “I couldn’t breathe knowing you might be gone.”
I press my forehead to his, both our chests heaving. “I didn’t run. I would never run from you.”
His lips find mine, the motion slow and reverent. As though kissing me might stitch the pieces of him back together.
“I swear,” he whispers against my mouth, “I’ll make them pay for this. For touching you. For taking her. For everything.”
I back up enough to look him over, and my gaze lands on the collar gripping his throat. I search for the clasp, but I can’t open it. Frustration builds as I try to slip my fingers beneath it somehow to pry it free, but it’s simply stuck.
Dante gently grasps my hand. “It can only be removed by the one who bound it.”
He looks down at my ripped dress, then stands to remove his jacket. After pulling me to my feet, he wraps the jacket around me. I slip my arms through the sleeves, and then Dante pulls me into his embrace.
“I thought… I thought maybe there was hope for him.”
My arms squeeze him tighter. “Dante, he’s unhinged.”
He lets out a soft, mirthless laugh. “I noticed.” His mouth pullsdown into a frown. “I didn’t want it to be like this. I don’t want him to be my enemy. He’s my brother. I don’t know if I can bring myself to… hate him.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, because I can feel his struggle. Dante’s biggest weakness is his heart and what he would do for the ones he loves. Even though Torbin has become something other than himself, Dante is still holding on to the brother he opened his heart to.
“Did you hear me calling you?” I ask softly, deciding to change the subject.
“I felt you,” he says, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “Your voice was faint, but I could feel you calling for me.”
My heart thrums with the knowledge that our connection is strong enough for him to hear me, feel me, even over such a long distance.
He runs a thumb over my cheek before softly kissing me. I pull him closer, wishing our reunion didn’t have to take place in this dank, smelly cell.
His fingers brush over the bite mark on my neck, and he stiffens. “What’s this? Who did this to you?”
“He… Torbin bit me.”
His jaw hardens, his eyes narrowing. “‘Bit’ you?”
“He has fangs, Dante. The serum he takes, it’s changing him.” I place my hand on top of his.
He stares in horror at the mark, which has healed a lot quicker since Nadya used her magic. I can see the fury burning behind his glare.
Then his eyes meet mine and his gaze softens. “I won’t let him hurt you anymore. I promise.”
For a while, we simply hold each other, wondering what’s going to happen next. But my thoughts don’t slow down.
“What do you think he’s going to do to Nadya?”
“I’m not sure.” His arms tighten around me. “But we’ll find her.”
I close my eyes for a moment and let myself relax deeper in his embrace. The feel of him gives me hope. Relief floods through me in waves so fierce, it nearly buckles my knees. For a moment, it doesn’t matter that the dungeon stinks of mildew and blood, or that the stonebeneath my feet is ice. I’m not alone. Dante found me. He’s here, holding me together when I feel like I should be falling apart. I bury my face against his chest, drawing strength from the steady beat of his heart, but the terror coils just as tightly inside me.
