We stare at each other.
“Come to have a turn?” he rasps. His voice sounds like it’s been dragged over broken glass.
With slow, shaky steps, I climb onto the platform. My hands tremble as I reach for his ravaged chest. I swallow thickly, hovering for a second, unsure if touching him will unravel me.
When my palms finally rest against his chest, I gasp sharply.
So much pain.
I close my eyes, sensing his injuries.
Six of his ribs are broken, one of which has pierced his lung, and two others are cracked. There’s a slow bleed seeping into his stomach. Both of his kidneys are struggling to function—likely pummeled into oblivion. Four toes and his right ankle are broken.
Hot, anguished tears prick my eyes.
He was used as a punching bag while I slept for days.
His pain thrums beneath my palms, a damning echo I can’t escape.
I take another shaky breath, willing my healer’s training to steady my hand. Willing myself to see him as just another patient.
I can’t do anything about the external wounds—they’ll know someone healed him—but I can heal his internal injuries.
When I open my eyes, Zev’s squinted gaze is riveted to my necklace.
I take another shuddering breath, willing my heartbeat to slow. My palms alight, and I set to work on healing him.
“Why are you helping me?” he grits out, gray eyes almost silver in the moonlight. “To draw out my suffering?”
Tides, the sound of his splintered voice rents my heart in two.
So I pretend I don’t hear him.
I don’t have an answer I can give anyway. Instead, I focus on his ribs, slowly mending the fissures in the bones. Once those are healed, I work on his punctured lung.
“Why?” he presses. His voice sounds better, already stronger, and it’s a balm to my battered heart. With trembling fingers, I retrieve the bread hidden in my cloak. I tear off a chunk and hold it to his lips. The stubborn man turns his face away, much like I did at hiscamp when I was hisprisoner.
“Zev,” I hiss, casting a quick glance around the clearing. “I don’t have much time.Eat.”
“Don’t call me Zev.”
I bare my teeth. “Fine. Eat,dumbass.”
His eyes brim with unfiltered suspicion.
“What’s your plan?”
“For Tides’ sake, I don’t have one.” I force two fingers into his mouth and pry it open, then shove the bread inside.
I half expect him to spit it out, but he swallows it down. When he’s eaten all the bread, I wield a thin stream of water from my canteen, flowing it into his mouth.
“Why didn’t you let me die?” I ask after he’s finished drinking. “When I was bleeding out.”
Zev doesn’t answer immediately. His chapped, bloodied lips press into a grim line. A muscle jumps in his jaw, as if the memory infuriates him. It probably does—I tricked him into sharing his power, weakening him. It’s why he’s strung up in a Tundrayni camp.
Yet another betrayal to add to my growing list.
“You’re mine to kill,” he finally says, his voice cold. “I’ll die before I let you leave this world of your own choice.”
