Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the red pooling beneath Wells’ nose, saw the veins trembling under his skin. He might be okay pretending that he was fine, that it wasn’t consuming him the same way it did me—
But the curse didn’t care about pretending, it always collected what it was owed.
We had made it as far as the Feyglades, the lake we stumbled upon a desolate of solitude I had not been granted in almost a month.
My feet slid over moss-slick stone until the trees thinned into a small clearing that led to the still water. Their branches arched above, enveloping me into a green shade. Purple blossoms leaned toward the shallows, stretching for the rare light that slipped past the barricade of leaves.
The sun lifted in a halo, though softer here than home. The further I drifted from Csolenia’s rooted soil, the duller the brilliance seemed to become. Yet today, even muted, it was enough.
For a heartbeat, I was back in the Roux Forest, perched on my boulder of quiet reprieve.
Safe.
I never thought I would miss Csolenia. Never thought I’d ever leave either. But the absence was not yearning, only the ache of being pulled closer to something unknown. To answers I had always claimed to want.
Yet, here on the cusp, I found myself unready. Afraid of what the truth might demand of me.
My fingertips skimmed the water, grooves rippling across its surface. This was good. Difficult, yes. But good. The waves smoothed again, carrying my doubts along with them.
I lifted my shirt, casting it across a pile of rocks by the shore, leaving only a strip of linen bound across my chest. The water cooled as I sank my hand deep, collecting some in my palm and splashing it across my face. Droplets trailed down the groove of my jaw, over the curve of my neck and across my chest.
Gods, what I would give for a real bath right now.
I still hadn’t fully washed the grime of the dungeon off. Elva had done her damned best, scrubbing me raw with her makeshift herbs and oils, determined to polish it all away. But the filth clung to me still.
I felt it everywhere. Buried deeper than skin.
A splash dripped down my shoulder blades, and I winced when it rushed over half-healed wounds. The water rippled again, and my head snapped to where they grew from.
Callum stood thirty feet away, shoulders bowed as he poured water over his head, streaks leaking down his muscled back.
But it wasn’t the strength that stole the breath from me. It was the damage.
His skin was shredded with thick scars, like claws had ripped across him in cruel patterns.
I wonderedif that’s how mine looked.
Water licked around my shins as I stepped into the lake, gliding toward him. His head shot up, golden catching my sorrow, as I went to turn, to show him the same, unrelenting memories decorating my own flesh.
A funnel of flames roared between us before I could, spiraling into a wall that caged him away. Rejection noted, plain and brutal.
“Don’t take it personally.”
I twisted, caught off guard, to where Killian stood at the shoreline, shirt dangling off his shoulder, hair dripping as water still ran down his face.
“He did the same thing to me,” he said.
That didn’t soothe meat all. But the last soul I wanted to confide in about family issues was Killian Ramsay. I’m sure he had enough of his own trapped in that mind of his.
Never mind how since he had rescued me, ever since I had woken up, there had been a feeling tight inside me that I needed Killian nearby.
Not in a desirable way, but almost annoyingly important.
I didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust that he hadn’t done something while I was vulnerable that made me feel that way.
I made sure my mental shields were locked as securely as they could be.
Studded canines flashed as his mouth moved into a smile. “Ouch,” he added. His chin tilted toward the marred skin of my back, eyes tracing the scars there like a riddle he already knew the answer to. “Bet that isn’t a fun story.”
