Shit. Her shift in the library had started eight minutes ago.
She rushed out of Elodie’s room, then down the stairs, through the foyer, and out into the crisp brightness of an uncharacteristically sunny day in Diachre.
She bit her lip, lost in speculation as she hurried down the path to the library.
What in Ethyrios was in those vials?
Was Elodie sick? Were they some kind of healing treatment?
High Gods, were theypoison? Was she planning to off Cael on their wedding night? Though that didn’t seem likely, since so many vials were already empty.
She slammed into a hard, male chest.
Cael caught her shoulders before she could fall back on her ass. He was wearing the biggest, most joyful smile she’d ever seen grace his gorgeous mouth. Rays of sunshine backlit his wing, illuminating the pink within the gray. He reached into his pocket and pull out a small, dark container.
“What’s that?” she asked.
She didn’t know how it was possible, but Cael’s smile widened.
“Our ticket out of here.”
“It’s going to hurt,”Xenia said, more a statement than a question, as she paced in Cael’s bedroom, wringing her hands in her apron.
Cael’s concerned eyes tracked her. “Yes.”
“Alot.”
The small graphite crucible perched menacingly on the low table before the fireplace.
“Yes.” Cael stepped in to grip her shoulders. “But you will heal. As soon as it’s out, I’ll give you my blood and youwillheal. I promise.”
She pressed her cheek against the top of his hand, spearing him with a fearful, hopeful gaze as she sucked in a shaky breath.
“Okay?” he said, his face soft.
“Okay.” She steeled her spine, glancing toward Cael’s packed bag on the bed.
As soon as he’d stolen her from outside the library, he’d whisked her to his room. Inside, he’d been a flurry of activity. Packing, cleaning, talking. More words than she’d ever heard leave his mouth at once.
She suspected he was trying to keep her distracted from what he was about to do—burn the tracking device out of her neck using dragon-fire.
He’d explained the process while slinging clothes and weapons—two Typhon steel daggers and a stun pistol—into the bag along with a pouch ofdrachas. Not much, he’d explained, but enough for them to get by while they awaited a message from Tristan. Who Cael had informed her was heading to Tartarus, High Gods fucking spare him, to seek the name from Aedelmar Burkhardt. And to find Cass, no doubt.
Cael hadn’t told her where they would be waiting, but she honestly didn’t care. They could be staying in a lean-to in the woods, and it still wouldn’t dampen her effervescent excitement.
They would be away from Stoneridge. Away from Elodie and Tomas. Away from Arran.
Awaytogether.
She’d shown him the vial she’d found in Elodie’s room, and he’d distractedly slipped it into his bag, muttering something about looking at it later. It didn’t even matter anymore, but Xenia’s hamster wheel mind insisted she solve the mystery eventually.
“You should probably sit.” Cael guided her to the armchair, then gathered up her curls and began re-pinning them atop her head. “Wouldn’t want to burn all your hair off, Blondie.”
She shot him an annoyed look.
“Come on. You’d look so fucking hot bald.” He kissed the back of her neck, and she let out a ragged chuckle.
He came around the chair, then knelt at her feet, plucking the crucible from the table.
