And why did the scars—sticky to the touch—appear to be almost healed?
“You’re awake.” Cael’s deep voice wrapped around her like a soft blanket.
She ground the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to chase away the persistent throb that made her want to lay back down and bash her skull against the floor.
“Here,” Cael said. Smooth leather nudged along her arm. “Drink some of this.”
She leaned against the cool stone wall and cracked her eyes open. Cael knelt before her, pressing a round canteen into her hands. She tried to speak, but the words caught on her thick, dry tongue.
Cael screwed off the lid and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, then brought the canteen to her lips. She managed two swallows before he tipped the vessel back too far, and she choked on the stream of water.
She sputtered and coughed, shoving him away. “Are you trying to fucking drown me?”
“Just trying to get that nasty mouth of yours working again.” He offered her the water, his eyebrows raised. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of the open tin of salve by his side—he’d healed her wounds. “Seems to have worked.”
She snatched the canteen from his outstretched hand, then drained it dry in several long, audible gulps.
Cael tracked the tiny rivulets running down her bobbing throat and soaking her collar.
She pulled the canteen away with an overly dramatic smack of her lips, twisted the cap back on, and tossed it back to him.
“Where did you get that?” she asked.
“One of the Deathstalkers gave it to me this morning along with breakfast right after you left.” He dipped his head, examining the canteen as he flipped it in his hands. “I was saving it for you, didn’t know when you’d be back or if they’d given you anything to eat or drink.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, touched by the gesture but unsure of what to do with the knowledge. She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers catching in her knotted curls. She hoped they’d let her clean herself up soon.
Cael fiddled with the canteen, and she swept an assessing eye over him. It was hard to get a clear picture in the patchy torchlight, but it looked like his face had completely healed.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he answered with a snort, then caught her narrowed eyes. “I’m fine, Blondie. My wing’s better, but this is still a problem.” He opened his hand and a small puff of wind kissed her cheeks, barely harder than the breath of a panting dog. “That’s the extent of my magic at the moment. They gave me more healing suppressant while you were gone. I think it’s the only reason they’re still making me take it, to strangle my powers.”
“How long ago?” she asked.
“A while ago. Right after Alexei snatched you away.” He surveyed her with searching steel-gray eyes. “How doyoufeel?” He swallowed, dragging a hand down his face. Had he been that worried about her? “What happened?”
She told him about Meridon. Recounted the memory she’d pulled from that young woman showing Cassandra during the disaster on the ship. That she’d seen her friend and Tristan heading towards a colorful house on a hill behind the city, which Cael confirmed was the Artisan’s home.
“What do you think they were doing there?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He chewed the inside of his cheek and she shot him a confused look. “What?”
“How can you do that without cutting your mouth with your little fangs?”
He huffed, amused. “I can be very gentle with mylittlefangs when I need to be, Xenia.”
She hoped the torchlight was dim enough that he couldn’t see the blush creeping up her neck. “It’s Zee, remember?”
“Oh, I am your friend again?” he asked with a smirk. “Thought I was an asshole.”
“You can be both.”
His low, deep laugh was as sultry as skin-warmed bedsheets.
High Gods, his voice made her want to do very bad things.
She quickly changed the subject. “I didn’t complete the task Maksym assigned me. And as soon as I saw that memory, I escaped the Temple to find Cass. There are going to be repercussions, don’t you think?”
