“Does it hurt to walk?”
“I’ll manage.”
He offered me his arm. I rested my hand on it, and we walked to the stairs. I was able to move now. The bath and the bitter powder must’ve helped.
We climbed the stairs in awkward silence. One, two, three . . .
I clenched my teeth. It hurt so much.
Seven . . . Eight . . . I couldn’t do it anymore.
“May I?” he asked.
I gave up. “Yes.”
He picked me up and started up the stairs. My face was only a few inches from his. His arms were rock steady. His profile was harsh, as if it had been carved from stone, but he carried me as if I were made of glass.
He was so gentle. After everything the Butcher had done to me, I should’ve been alarmed at being touched, and yet this felt comforting and safe. Not possessive, but protective, as if he were shielding me from a storm with his body. This was completely absurd. I was being carried by the Sleepless Duke. That alone should’ve sent me into near panic, and instead I had to fight to keep from wrapping my arms around him, desperate for closer contact. Somehow, this was helping more than the bath and the safety of the familiar walls around me.
“Does it hurt worse this time than the last?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is it more painful every time you die?”
“No. The second time hurt a lot less than the first. I think it’s how much damage the body has to heal. He did a lot of damage.”
His face had that steel-hard flat expression. He was controlling himself.
“It really wasn’t Lute’s fault,” I said.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“It happened very fast.”
“I know.”
“He didn’t have a chance to react.”
“Maggie, I know whose fault this was. It was mine. I allowed you to go out.”
“I insisted.”
“And I should’ve insisted on coming with you. I didn’t, because you were angry with me, and I selfishly wanted things to be the way they were before.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” I told him softly.
“We’ll have to find out.”
We stopped before the door of my suite. He put me back on my feet.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He opened the door and walked me to the bed. The lanterns were already on, glowing with soft light, and the bedroom felt familiar and yet not quite safe. I sat on the covers.
Everard walked to my window, checked to make sure it was locked, then went into my office and checked the window there.
