"I'm fine?—"
"You're bleeding down your arms. Let me heal you.”
I look at Eryx, unconscious, chest barely rising. “Not until I know he’s stable.”
Stave’s voice and expression softens. “He’s going to pull through. I got here just in time. But you won’t be any use to himif you lose a lot of blood, and he’ll kill me for letting you. So…allow me to heal you. Please.”
My gaze darts to my hands. He’s right. My back is bleeding so hard the blood runs down my arms to my hands.
“Okay,” I relent.
Stave crosses to me. I’m still kneeling beside Eryx.
When he places his hands on my back, I hiss in pain. The room tilts.
I rock forward.
"Mistress—"
"I'm fine. Just hurry."
“Your wounds have magic in them, too. This may hurt a bit more.”
That’s an understatement. Searing pain skates down my spine, and I shudder as my skin closes.
“What did this?” he asks.
“Some sort of shadow monster. It vanished when Eryx killed it.”
My hands shake as I say it. I almost died. If Eryx hadn't woken up—if he'd been thirty seconds slower?—
I shove the thought away. He saved me. Now I save him.
“We’ll have to reinforce the shields, the wards.” Stave curses like he blames himself. “Can you help me get him to bed?”
“I think so.”
Stave helps me to my feet. My back still hurts, but not nearly as bad as it did a few seconds ago. He hoists Eryx up, and I wedge myself under his arm. We drag him to his room and settle him on top of his bed.
Echo pads in behind us and jumps onto the mattress, curling up at Eryx’s feet as if guarding him.
Stave studies him for a moment, his expression darkening. “She has nightmare magic.”
My blood goes cold. “What?”
“The sorceress who killed his father. We thought Eryx inherited all of Nightmare's power. But she must have stolen a fragment—just enough to hide from him. Just enough to…” His gaze drops to Eryx's wounds. “To do this.”
This information settles over me like ice cracking across a pond. The woman who killed Eryx’s father stole part of his magic. Does she want the rest? Is that why I was attacked? To hurt him?
I lace my fingers through his and close my eyes. He’s warm. His heart beats. He’ll live. I open my eyes and look down at him. My heart convulses. His expression is peaceful, but he’s covered in blood.
Too peaceful. Too quiet.
When he fought the creature, his voice doubled—him and Nightmare speaking together. A sound I felt in my bones. Now…nothing. Just silence.
What if the attack hurt more than just his body?
Stop worrying, Chelsea, and do something productive.
