My chest tightens at the declaration. Not that it should matter—not that he means all that much to me, either—but he didn’t have to get so defensive about the idea.
“That’s not true, Bes. And don’t try to deny it. I know you can’t see it—” Cec chuckles at his own self-deprecating misstep. “Apologies, bad form. But it’s bollocks you think you’re not worthy of some semblance of happiness. You don’t have to torture yourself like this. Not after all this time.”
All this time?
Much to my dismay, Bes changes the subject.
“Let’s focus on getting her to Uncle Arturo’s before the God Men catch up to us. She might even prove to be of some help.”
Help with what?
Cec clicks his tongue. “Wishful thinking, cousin”
Then, silence again.
The more awake I become, the sorer my body feels. Especially my skinned knee from when I fell into the Osireion and the arm tucked awkwardly beneath my ribcage. I try to shift my shoulder subtly. But all I manage to do is pull a muscle in my neck. Anunghescapes my throat and crosses my lips before I can stop it.
“Not dead then,” Cec confirms.
A muffled thud sounds. “If you weren’t blind, I’d makeyougo into town with Ailsa for supplies.”
Footfalls clamor up the stairs.
“Only mostly blind, mate,” Cec hollers.
With Cec and I alone now, I know he knows I’m awake. But he doesn’t say anything. I’m sure he’s waiting for me to acknowledge his presence, but I allow myself to take another moment to assess my current state.
Uncomfortable in clothes already caked in sand and sweat, grime sticks to my skin in a thin film. My mouth tastes like something crawled up inside and died, and muscles I didn’t know existed ache terribly. But I’m lucky to be alive, and that’s enough.At least until I can find a half-decent bathtub and hot running water.
When the boat gradually comes to a stop and the engines cut off, I open my eyes—finding Cec perched on the bed beside me. He doesn’t say or do anything except stare at me with his milky gaze. It’s a bit unnerving at first. Then again, he could think he’s staring at a lump of clothes.
Sunlight beams in through the raised threshold across from me and the small circular windows I didn’t notice in the dark last night, searing my eyeballs. I groan again. Scrambling for the edge of the ornate duvet, I pull it over my head. Blissful darkness takes me again.
“Good morning, dearest,” Cec croons.
I groan for a third time. “I loathe you.”
Cec chuckles. “Sticks and stones, love. You catch more sugar with honey.”
I peek over the top of the covers, forcing myself to acclimate to the sunlight. “That’s not how the saying goes.”
Cec shrugs. “It’s not strictly incorrect though.”
I open my mouth to reiterate how much I loathe him, and it’s as dry as the Egyptian desert. Cec must hear the sound of my parched lips scraping against one another like sandpaper, because he fumbles deftly for the new full glass of water perched on the nightstand. Grasping it at the base, he offers it to me.
“Is it poisoned?”
Before he can answer, I take it from him and gulp down its entire contents. A few dribbles slosh down the side of my mouth and onto my shirt. I don’t care.
Cec chuckles as I swallow the last of it. “Bit of a moot point now if it is.”
I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, tasting the salt from my dried sweat. “I’ve lived long enough.”
His expression turns serious, and he places a hand over mine. His fingers are soft, and unlike Bes, his knuckles are unmarred. Sensing his shift in mood, I set the empty water glass back on the nightstand and sit up completely.
“Bes told me about his promise to protect you, and I stand by it. No harm will come to you while you’re in our care.”
I fight the urge to place my hand over his. Although he no doubt means well, if I’ve learned anything in my twenty-two years of life, it’s that nothing is certain. The last day or so has proved that.
