Page 181 of Of Masks and Fury

And because I’d discovered something deeply unsettling about myself.

I loved every bit of it.

“You’re favoring your left side again,” she said from behind me, her arms wrapped around my waist as we flew. She’d refused to fly in front of me, stating she couldn’t bear the thought of leaning back against my wounds.

Pherin dozed on her shoulder while Gavelle flew beside us, periodically landing on Isi’s back to rest. He’d refused to land on me, stating in no uncertain terms that I was to rest, not support him.

Thankfully, his only injuries were a few bruises from the battle.

Isi’s fingers pressed gently against my ribs, below the bandages she’d rewrapped that morning after applying fresh herbs. “How’s the pain?”

“It’s fine.” The lie came automatically, a habit from years of being the one everyone else depended on, the one who had to put on a strong front at all times.

Her hand moved higher, her fingers spreading across my chest in a gesture that was part assessment, part possession. “Don’t lie to me. I need to know if you’re getting worse.”

The intimacy of that demand made my heart throb. I’d been king since I was barely more than a boy. Responsible for an entire court, for making decisions that meant life or death. No one had been allowed to fuss over me in sixteen years.

Except her.

She’d brought me back. I’d felt her calling, telling me over and over again that she loved me. The thought of her following me if I died kept me pushing to live.

“It’s better than this morning,” I said, and this time it was true. “The herbs are working.”

She didn’t release her hold, her palm staying flat against my sternum where she could feel my heartbeat. Checking. Always checking.

I covered her hand with mine. Below us, the wasteland stretched endless and corrupted, but up here with Isi pressed against my back, her warmth seeping through leather and linen, I felt whole.

“We should stop soon,” Derren called from where he flew beside us on Kyreth with Lexie seated at his front. “Scout that ridge before we lose the light.”

I nodded, already guiding Lakast toward the rocky outcropping he’d indicated. We’d been making broad sweeps of the area all day, slowly moving south while covering ground in overlapping patterns to ensure we didn’t miss anything. The property deed’s description had been vague—where springs run warm and green persists against the gray—and the wasteland made navigation nearly impossible, because every landmark we might’ve used had been corrupted or destroyed.

Lakast descended in a smooth glide, his wings catching the thermal currents. Isi’s grip tightened on my sides, her body tensing against mine.

“It’ll take worse than this to keep me from you,” I said quietly, knowing she’d hear me even over the wind. “I would crawl through death for another day with you.”

With a soft sigh, she pressed between my shoulder blades. “If the world breaks, I’ll still find you in the ashes.”

I lifted her hand and kissed each knuckle.

We landed on relatively dry ground, as dry as anything got in the wasteland, and I slid from Lakast’s back, biting back a groan when my belly and shoulder protested. I turned to reach up as Isi climbed down, but she climbed down the other side and stomped around to stand in front of me. Her pale blue eyes catalogued every detail of my face and posture, looking for signs of weakness, for pain I might be hiding.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Sit.” She pointed to a tree lying across the ground. “I’m checking your bandages.”

“You already?—”

“Sit.”

The command in her voice made something inside me tighten. She was glaring at me like I’d personally offended her by existing with injuries, and I’d never wanted to kiss someone more.

I sat.

Pherin peeped from Isi’s shoulder, and Gavelle released a sound from where he perched on a tall boulder keeping watch. I swore our companions were laughing.

Isi moved between my knees, her fingers already working at the ties of my tunic. Her hands remained steady as she lifted it up, exposing the bandages wrapped around my torso.

“This needs changing,” she muttered, examining the cloth. A small spot of blood had seeped through, barely visible. “You’re moving too much.”