I didn’t scream again. I couldn’t. The pain was still there, just as brutal, but something in me locked down against it. Tears slid silently down my face instead, my entire body trembling under the strain.
Teorin was beside me again. He didn’t hesitate this time. He shifted me back, lifting me slightly and pulling me between his legs so that my back pressed against him. One arm came around me, holding me in place.
He brought his forearm in front of my mouth. “Bite.”
I did. My teeth sank into him as the pain surged again, deeper this time, my body tightening against his hold.
He didn’t pull away. His other arm wrapped around my back, firm, anchoring me there as the weaver continued. A cloth brushed across my face, wiping away sweat.
“It’s almost over,” he said.
I didn’t believe him.
“Don’t think any of this means I care,” he added, his voice low, close to my ear. “I don’t care about you. Even if it seems like I do.”
Another wave hit.
“Fuck you,” I managed against his arm.
“Fuck you too.”
Then—
“Bite.”
I did, harder this time. The weaver pressed deeper, pulling more of the infection free, and my body shook against him, every muscle tightening as the pain climbed higher than I could manage.
And he held me through it, not moving, not letting go.
After what felt like forever, the weaver finally pulled back.
“I got as much of it as I could,” he said, his voice unsteady. “Now it’s time to weave.”
Teorin didn’t look at him. “Is there still any left?”
“I took out what I could,” the man replied. “The wounds are deep.” His eyes flicked to me, something almost human crossing his face. “Who would do such a thing to a young woman?”
“Mind your fucking business,” Teorin said.
Silence followed.
I swallowed, my throat dry. “Does the weaving part hurt?”
Teorin gave a small nod.
I closed my eyes, then opened them again. “Get away from me.”
He didn’t move. “But?—”
“You just reminded me that you don’t give a fuck about me,” I said. My voice was thin but steady enough. “So clearly that’s true. Or you wouldn’t have lied about whatever the fuck you lied about.” I held his eyes. “I don’t need to be this close to my enemy.”
He stared at me briefly, then stood and stepped away from the bed.
I turned my head toward the weaver. “Begin.”
The pain tore through me in a way that made the earlier agony feel almost distant, my body folding in on itself as I buried my face into the pillow, the sound breaking out of me before I could stop it. I sobbed into the fabric, my hands gripping at it, my entire body trembling as the sensation spread and twisted and refused to let go.
It wasn’t just the pain. It was everything that had come with it, everything that had led me here, and for the first time since all of this began, anger pushed through it.
