“Riven sent me,” she whispers, glancing back as if she expects to find someone looking over her shoulder. “But he told me to pretend I came on my own.” A blush stains her cheeks. Squaring her shoulders, she focuses on the bed. “Can I examine him?”
I snarl, and Ciprian shoves me. “She’s a powerful healer. If you scare her off, Ali, I swear.” He leaves the threat hanging between us, and I raise my hands, palms up.
Celine manages a wobbly smile. “The manticore’s tail pierced his neck. Can you help him?”
The teen—a witch, I realize with shock—ignores me, leaning over the bed to assess Luca’s neck. “Who sealed this?”
“Alistair,” Celine says. “He’s a vampire.”
The strange blonde girl glances at me and nods. “You saved his life. His basilisk side can handle the venom, but combined with the blood loss...”
My hands curl into fists. Her words don’t make me feel better. If anything, I feel worse. Trapped on the sidelines with Malach, as useless as crown molding in a stable. Why should I be praised for my cursed, coagulating spit?Good work, Ali. Your hemostatic saliva—which you didn’t earn and rarely use for anything that could be mistaken for altruism—saved the day.
Utter nonsense.
“Why won’t he wake up?” Celine asks.
“His body is using all its energy to fight the venom.”
“Can you help him, kid?” Ciprian asks.
The witch nods and pulls several tubs and vials from her basket. After cleaning the wound, she sews the edges together and rubs a thick paste into Luca’s skin.
I’m itching to interrogate her. She works for the enemy. How do we know she’s not here to finish Luca off? But Celine and Ciprian appear to trust her. Is that enough for me?
Hyacinth begins to chant, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end as her magic fills the room. It reminds me of the Fringes, with none of the energy I’ve come to expect from this realm. Luca’s wound reacts immediately, the skin knitting itself back together.
The witch nods with satisfaction and hands Celine the bundle of dried plants. “To replace the others.”
Celine clasps her hand. “Thank you.”
With a shy glance around the room, the kid nods, then goes to the door and knocks three times. It opens, and she leaves as quickly as she arrived.
Luca already looks better. There’s color in his cheeks, but I can’t make myself relax until I lay my hand against his chest and feel his heart beating against my palm.
Silence falls over the room.
Guards drop off food.
Night falls.
We settle around the bed, held hostage by exhaustion and tension as much as the locked door. Celine eyes the shower longingly. It’s completely exposed, without even a glass wall to fog and blur the view. “I’ve got to get clean,” she blurts. “My skin is crawling.”
She strips and showers quickly.
Ciprian swaps with her as soon as she’s done, kissing her cheek as they pass each other. Celine shrugs into a shirt and crawls into bed beside Luca.
By the time Ciprian steps out of the shower, he’s no longer steady on his feet. I watch him dress, jaw clenching as he stumbles to the bed and curls against Luca’s other side.
My shower is quick, and the water is ice-cold by the time I climb out. I tell Malach, an apology in my voice. He nods, scooping cold water from the shower and cleaning himself without fully undressing. It’s cold in here, even with the fire, so I don’t blame him.
When it’s time to select a side of the bed, I pick Ciprian’s. I want to hold Celine, but Malach does too, and I know he won’t ask. I know what it’s like to starve for her.
Knowing it will piss Ciprian off is just a bonus.
I settle in behind him. He stiffens before curling into Luca’s side with his back to me. I try not to touch him, but it’s almost impossible without falling off the bed.
Ciprian huffs. “I’m not radioactive, you know.”
