A small wobbly table and some stools were placed in the center. Rusted candleholders with tallow candles were placed haphazardly on sinking shelves. With a flick of his wrist, Kane brought the wicks to life.
“Sit, eat, but stay here while I grab you some fresh clothes.” He saw her tense even more, like a bird watching through the bars that surrounded her. Kane let out a haggard sigh.
“You’re not trapped here,” he promised, plopped his own tray down on the table, and turned to leave and retrieve the items. With his remaining energy, Kane willed the shadows to bend and bring him to the small stone hut he’d claimed on the island weeks before his capture. Arcanum thrummed against his skin as his body embraced the numb darkness.
His Grace—his ability to manipulate arcanum was fine-tuned to fire. He could produce and use flames with magnificent force, but what made him unique among the mages and weavers of the Great North was his ability to move through the liminal dark.
The skill could only take him short distances and required much more energy to transport himself to a place he knew but couldn’t see. It was still better than walking.
Shadows delivered him to the room. He would be spent for the rest of the night. This kind of travel ate the rest of his magical reserves, but his body was tired. It would be morning soon, and he would kill an army for at least an hour of sleep on something better than a rotting prison cot.
Kane peeled the wet clothes from his body, taking a moment to inspect the healing bruises and cuts on his arms and chest. Some would heal overnight, and the worst had scabbed over. He would have a few more faint scars on his body from the tools that cut too deep. He healed faster than most, but that didn’t make him impervious to sharp objects.
Clothes, food, then I’m sending her off to fend for herself, he thought, trying to convince himself that he wanted nothing more than to keep his distance from her.
He found what he needed quickly—a spare set that would fit her well enough.
By the time he returned to the small hut, Erinna had devoured most of her meal and was eyeing his plate suspiciously. Kane tossed her the outfit and took a quick survey of the room.
She had been careful to cover her tracks, but he could find the signs of snooping better than most. A smile threatened to part his lips, and he was grateful that Afton had at least locked and secured the most important items. Erinna wasn’t a threat, for the most part, but Kane didn’t like sharing his plans and movements with strangers.
“You have two minutes,” he stated and left once more to allow her privacy. Kane heard her muffled, indignant grumbles as she changed. They were likely colorful insults and threats that, on a better day—on a day when he had more rest and wasn’t acutely aware of her changing just beyond the door—he’d enjoy hearing.
He chuckled despite his best efforts.
A sudden stumble, followed by the sharp thud of a foot connecting with the table leg. “Gods dammit!” Erinna’s curse rang through the wood.
“You all right in there?” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
“Never better,” came the tart reply, though he could hear her moving more carefully now.
Kane dragged a hand over his face, trying to ignore the mental image of her hopping on one foot, half-dressed and scowling.
He redirected his thoughts with effort. She would need to find a way to get along with his crew. If not, he could already feel the growing headache. The stubborn, sharp-tongued woman added another item to his ever-growing list of complications.
Once she was settled, he’d seek a report from Afton. Then Brax.No, maybe Brax before Afton, he thought, assessing his current tolerance for pain-in-the-ass mages.
“I’m done,” came Erinna’s muffled response.
When Kane entered, she was seated at the table, trying to comb through impossible knots in her dark hair. Dark brown waves cascaded over her shoulder as she worked the comb.
The borrowed shirt hung loose on her lean frame, tucked into her trousers, which rested flush against the curves of her hips and thighs. Kane ripped his trailing gaze back to her face.
He was glad to see that she had stopped shivering. A faint hint of pink had made its way to her cheeks, color returning beneath the constellation of freckles scattered across her nose and cheekbones.
When she glanced up, momentarily giving up on a particularly stubborn tangle, her eyes caught in the lamplight—gray flecked with darker blue, like the calm sky just before a storm.
Erinna cleared her throat. “You should eat before it gets cold.”
Kane was shocked at the sudden tenderness in her voice. Even her features seemed to soften as the comfort of dry clothes and a full belly finally paid off. He didn’t need any more convincing. Kane sat and wordlessly worked his way throughdinner. It was a divine feast of meat and flavors, and he resisted the urge to moan. After prison food, this was a meal worth killing for.
“What do you want with Inez?” asked Erinna, the steeliness in her disposition slowly returning. At least she waited for him to down a few bites before starting.
“Why do you care so much for her? You barely know her.” He couldn’t help but ask.
Erinna eyed his half-eaten food for a moment before squaring her gaze back on him. “It doesn’t matter how well I know her. She doesn’t deserve to be a tool for men to simply use and discard as needed.”
Anger seared through his veins. “I’m not like the wretches of your nation, and I don’t need to be compared to their lack of ethics.” How dare she assume his intent. Kane was never a fan of audacity. The candle wicks burst with fire, barely able to control the blaze.
