He's eating it right now. He could be dying right now.
The thought makes my chest seize.
I just realized I love him, and I'm about to lose him to a poisoned casserole.
“Eryx!”
Where the hell is the study? There are so many damn rooms in this place.
One door is open. Light spills into the hall. I burst through the door and see Eryx bringing the fork to his mouth.
“No!”
I lunge for him and slap the fork from his hand. It clatters to the floor. Food hits the wall.
He stares at me in shock, and I fall to my knees at his feet, my hands trembling.
“What in the world?” he says.
I look up at him, blinking tears from my eyes. “The food…” I gasp. The words tangle in my throat. “It’s cursed.”
I thrust the note into his hands. His eyes scan it and his face darkens.
Is he mad at me? “I didn’t know. Eryx, I swear. I didn’t know it came from her. Please believe me.”
He stares at his plate of food, food that was possibly poisoned or spelled, or both. The woman tried to kill me once. This time she might not have us dead—but she wanted us afraid.
“I’ll destroy her,” he grinds out.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeat.
His gaze snaps on me, and the dark look in his eyes dissolves. He exhales a slow breath and then slowly takes my face in his hands and pulls me into his lap. He kisses my tears away, his lips brushing over my skin, leaving dots of heat where they land.
“You…saved me,” he says, his voice thick like it comes from the depths of him.
I wrap my arms around him and press my face into his neck. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur against his skin. He shivers and I squeeze tighter. “The note was under the lid. I didn’t see it until I was washing up. I never—everwould’ve heated it up if I’d known.”
Fresh tears leak from my eyes, and he cradles the back of my head. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Here. Stop crying. Let me see.”
He gives me a gentle tug, and I sit up, exhaling a shaky breath. Eryx presses his lips to my cheeks and murmurs, “I didn’t say no because I don’t think you can handle the magic,” he explains, going back to our argument. “I said no because”—he swallows, his throat working—“because if anything happens to you, I won’t survive it. There’s no version of me that does.”
I suck in a breath. “What?”
His voice trembles. “I won’t survive it, and it makes no sense. You’ve only just walked into my life, but Chelsea—” His voice breaks.
His words sink into me. Oh God. I think he just named what I’ve been feeling, too.
It’s my turn to take his face in my hands, and I kiss him slowly, deeply. “I won’t survive it, either.”
We stare at each other. My tongue feels so heavy, like it knows I can’t take back those words and we’re both waiting—to accept each other, acknowledge each other, admit we’re in way over our heads.
He looks at me for a beat as tension hangs in the air. My body coils tight, waiting, expecting, willing, and then?—
“I love you.”
And it feels like I’ve just been filled with the breath of life. Never has anyone said those words to me and they meant as much as they do now.
Hearing him say it? Hearing him choose me?
