“You saved us. Again.” He reaches up to touch my cheek. I try to turn into his hand, but his fingers fall too soon.
“You should have taken me with you!”
The anguish in my voice makes him frown. “How did you know?”
“Soothsayer. Remember?”
He smiles faintly and then coughs. Blood bubbles in his mouth, drips from his lips. “…thought that was a front.”
“Usually. Not always.”
His eyes lock on mine. They lack their usual piercing clarity. “My kingdom’s treasure. My treasure. So glad I found you.”
My eyes sting, and my heart aches, and I want to rip someone apart with my bare hands. He coughs, and there’s more blood. Too much blood.
“Merciless, merciless Cat.” He sounds proud of me. His voice is weakening. There’s blood everywhere. I’m kneeling in it. It’s on my hand, which is pressed to his wound. It’s in the air, damp and metallic in the dry heat.
I yank the healer’s hand down and hold it to Griffin’s chest. “Heal him.”
Her eyes are huge. “Not him. Not Hoi Polloi southern warlord scum.”
Everything in me flattens. My anger is surprisingly cold, a torrent of emotion frozen solid in an instant. I shove her hand away from Griffin and blow on it. The softest breath melts the entire appendage, leaving the charred stump of a wrist bone and mangled, blistered skin.
Her breath starts coming in short bursts. Her eyes turn unfocused. I’m afraid she’ll lose consciousness, so I give her a shake. “Heal. Him.”
She spits on me. “I’d rather die.”
There’s no searing pain, no roasted organs to tell me that she’s lying. Why would she do this? Do idiocy and prejudice run this deep? Griffin is a thousand times better than any royal Sinta has ever seen. She should be falling on her knees to kiss his feet.
I don’t have time to teach her a lesson in humanity, or to show her how little I have myself. I grab her head and squeeze. She screams as magic rips from her and jumps to me. I’ve never absorbed a healer’s power before. I’ve never actually taken any magic that wasn’t either given to me or directed at me, except that euphoria in Velos. There’s something liquid about healing magic, but it’s not a soft current. It’s a raging tide, and it hits me so hard it knocks me over.
My back hits the ground. Carver sits me up, holding me steady while I grab the healer again. Like a swamp leech, I take everything she’s got. I drain her until her skin turns gray. I drain her until she’ll regret denying me until her dying day. I drain her until she slumps to the side, limp and vacant.
Jittery with power, I bring trembling hands back to Griffin’s chest and send magic into his wound. It tears from me like layers of skin peeling off one by one. I cry out, and Griffin pales, fighting to stay conscious. Magic seeps into him, agonizing for us both. I grit my teeth and keep going until I realize he’s not getting better fast enough. He’s too far gone.
“Get me a knife!” I yell.
Griffin focuses on me one last time before his eyes close.
“No! No! No!” I shriek, shattering on the inside.
I don’t know who hands me the knife. I grab it and make a long, shallow incision from Griffin’s shoulder to his elbow. Flesh splits, and crimson wells up. I flip the flat sides of the knife in his blood, coating both surfaces. No one taught me to make a Death Mark or say the chant. Most of the times it happened to me, I was unconscious. The few times I wasn’t… It’s not something a person forgets.
I raise the knife to Olympus and pour healing magic into the blood, chanting fast and low. I say the incantation ten times. It’s either six or ten. Anything else invites chaos, and more is always better, right?
With the last words, I smear the blood back onto Griffin’s arm. Tossing the knife aside, I put one hand on his chest and the other on his arm and drain myself of the healer’s power. I empty every last drop of it into him. When it’s gone, I pour in some of myself. My magic doesn’t knit wounds, but I have power I don’t understand, that I didn’t even know existed before today.
Once I start, I can’t stop. I was never any good at self-control. My magic begins to shred. It’s startling and painful to feel it ripping free. Disjointed threads collide and splinter, latching on to parts of me that I then dump into Griffin with the single-minded focus of a person on the verge of unbearable loss.
Time is irrelevant. I have no idea how much passes. The flow of magic ebbs as I weaken, leaving me numb. I’m only dimly aware of the first part of the army arriving. Dust swirls, catching in my nostrils and sneaking grit into my mouth. People talk. It’s indistinct, but I think they’re stunned by what they see. The carnage—my carnage—seems far away now. Over. It doesn’t concern me.
Piers falls to his knees across from me, his face washed of all color. Griffin’s face is even paler, and frighteningly still. I want to shove Piers away, but I can’t move. My vision is dulling, my senses cloaked in an ever-thickening fog. Low voices sometimes penetrate it. I hear Kato and wish he would pat my head while Flynn says “shhh” in my ear. This is a nightmare, and I need them to wake me up.
My eyes close and won’t open again. I wage a fierce battle against fatigue. It wins, and I collapse across Griffin’s chest. His tunic is wet and sticky with blood. I want it to be cool like a Fisan lake, but it’s hot. He’s hot. I force my lips to move, to continue a chant I’ve heard healers use, but after a few mumbled words, they stop. I’m heavy on the outside, empty on the inside. I probably did something wrong. I don’t feel my magic anymore. I can’t feel my blood or my breath or my thundering hate. I can’t even tell if Griffin is alive, and I want him to live so much I’d make dark bargains with shadows in the night.
“Poseidon! I’ll do anything!” I silently beg.
An unfamiliar voice invades my head. “Daughter of Fisa, turn to me!” The booming echo between my ears is so frighteningly powerful that I use the last of my strength to cringe. A white light flashes, bright enough to sear unseeing eyes. The accompanying crack of thunder is terrifying. Deafening. I taste Griffin’s blood on my lips before darkness crashes over me like a wave.
CHAPTER 21
I’m not sure where I am. I rattle doors that won’t open, pound on windows with no view. If this is the Underworld, it’s not what I expected. It’s endless, timeless. Crushingly eternal. I thought there would be peace here. I thought it would finally be over. Haven’t I proved my warrior’s heart?
Trapped in this unsettling, empty gloom, my only regret is leaving Griffin.
But then his familiar voice comes to me from somewhere beyond the shadowy veil. Relief sweeps through me, only to be crushed by a devastating thought. Is he alive, or are we both dead? He’s talking, but I can’t hear. The words are garbled and faint, like he’s above the surface, and I’m below.
I kick, trying to reach the light, to hear, but I sink farther under, wondering how I can breathe down here in the dark.
CHAPTER 22
I wake with a moan. The strong arms circling my waist tense, and a long exhale warms the top of my head. I’m instantly aware of the hard, bare chest against my bare back, skin on skin.
“Cat?”
At the sound of Griffin’s deep voice, my heart thumps hard against my ribs, proving it still works. “You’re alive,” I murmur.
“You don’t sound disappointed,” he gently teases. “I must be moving up in your esteem.”
I feel his body behind mine, and water lapping at my skin. I want to turn in his arms, but my limbs won’t obey. “Where are we?”
“Ios’s bathhouse.”
“What’s wrong with me? I can’t move, or see.”
He doesn’t answer right away, and worry starts like an itch, spreading. “I think you gave too much to save me. I woke up to a great clap of thunder, perfectly healed. Even my old scars were gone.”
Really? I’ll miss the
one over his eye. “I thought you needed improvement.”
His soft chuckle rumbles through me. His arms tighten, sliding me up his chest.
“Am I naked?” I don’t feel any clothes.
“Yes.”
“Are you naked?”
“Yes.”
I try to turn invisible. “Am I invisible?”
“Save your energy, Cat. It’s your turn to heal.”
I guess that means no. I’m so empty, completely drained. My arms float, weightless in the water. “What if I can’t?”
“Of course you can. Just rest.” His lips brush my hair, his gruff tenderness making my heart turn over. Then he shifts, and something thick and hard presses against my bottom.
I feel my cheeks heat despite my pitiful state. “Don’t get any ideas,” I mutter.
“Oh, I have ideas. But I’d prefer you to be conscious.”
Warmth blossoms low in my belly, radiating throughout me.
“Trust me,” Griffin whispers in my ear.
“Don’t…trust…anyone.”
“You could try.”
I smile on the inside since that’s all I can manage.
CHAPTER 23
Darkness recedes, slow and thick like oil. “Griffin?”
“I’m here.” His grip around me tightens. I like lying on his chest, rising and falling when he breathes.
“How long did I sleep?”
“Hours. It’s the next day. The water woke you up yesterday, so I brought you back.”
That sounds…worrisome. “Have we been here long?”
“Hours,” he repeats. “We’re as wrinkled as my parents.”
I laugh. Sort of. Not being able to see makes my sense of touch come alive. His body cradles mine—hard thighs sprinkled with crisp hair, ridged abdomen flat against my back, strong arms circling my waist, holding me a shade closer than necessary. “Thank you for bringing me to the water.”
He presses a scalding kiss to my shoulder. “Thank you for being insane enough to think you could save us. Save me.”
“I told you not to go alone.”
“I should have listened to you.”
“I told you to bring an army.”
I feel him smile against the curve of my neck. My skin tingles under his mouth. “Turns out, all I needed was you.”
His words make me feel like honey that’s been left out in the afternoon sun. It’s hard to be ruthless when I’m slowly melting. “Release me from my vow.”
He goes utterly still. I don’t even think he breathes. Then his lips draw a searing path along my shoulder while his thumb moves in slow, sensual circles just below my breasts. I’m suddenly glad I can’t move. It gives me an excuse to stay where I am.
Low and gravelly, he finally says, “I release you from all vows to me.”
Hints of magic flare inside me and then extinguish, my binding vows dissolving. Freedom doesn’t feel any different.
“Don’t go, Cat.” Griffin’s mouth never leaves my skin, his breath a warm whisper. “Please.”
My heart splits wide open, finally finishing off the crack he started that hot night at the circus fair.
CHAPTER 24
There’s a cool hand on my forehead. The fingers are light and smooth. “Selena?”
“Egeria.”
Disappointment washes through me like a tepid wave. She lifts my head and puts a cup to my lips. Cool water slips down my throat. Some does, anyway. The rest dribbles down my neck.
“How’s my horse?” I ask.
“He’s fine. Stabled with the others and eating his weight in oats.”
“He deserves it. He saved you all.”
There’s a lengthy pause. “I think you did that.”
“I wouldn’t have gotten far without Panotii.”
“Panotii? Like the mythical tribe?”
Who says they’re mythical? “He has big ears.”
A cool sponge touches my chest. She moves to my arms next, first the right, then the left, and then does my hands, carefully washing each finger. My eyes won’t open. I’m powerless, unable to see or move. Utterly vulnerable.
“Who are you, Cat? Really?”
“Where’s Griffin?” I ask.
Water sloshes, and then the sponge slides over my legs and feet. “Resting. He hasn’t slept in three days.”
My immediate impulse is to shake my head. It doesn’t work. “That’s impossible. People always sleep after healing.”
“Whatever you did to him had the opposite effect.” Egeria trails the sponge over my lower stomach. My brain tells me to jump because I’m ticklish there, but nothing happens. “He’s hardly left your side. He thinks you did something harmful to yourself in order to save him.”
If I’ve been mostly unconscious for three days, I probably did.
A chill spreads through me, icing my blood. I’ve known all sorts of fear—fear of pain, fear of discovery, fear of capture. This is new. This is the kind of fear that teaches me the difference between trying to stay alive, and wanting to live.
“Did you?” she asks. “Why aren’t you getting better?”
“I am. I can talk.” Sort of. My words are already slurring.
The door opens on creaking hinges, and Egeria throws a sheet over me, scolding, “Don’t you knock?”
“We heard talking. Is she awake?” Kato’s voice helps thaw the frost settling in my veins.
“More or less,” I answer for Egeria.
“Time to get up,” Flynn says brusquely. “We’re all waiting for you to give us that know-it-all look of yours so we can kneel down and kiss your feet.”
Kiss my feet like a Goddess. Like Athena. Wisdom and war.
Well, war anyway.
“And present our arses for spanking,” Carver adds.
A smile tugs at my lips. “Don’t…tempt me.”
“Out,” Egeria says. “Cat needs to rest.”
No! “Stay.”
There’s a scraping of chair legs. They surround me. Beta Team. My team. A big hand covers mine, engulfing it. “What did you do to yourself?” Flynn asks.
“Wish I knew.”
He squeezes my hand, but I can’t squeeze back.
“Sleepy,” I mumble.
Kato pats my head, and Flynn holds my hand. Carver whistles a tribal tune, and with them close by, I’m not as afraid of the dark.
CHAPTER 25
“Why would a tribe of southern Tarvans attack this far north? Or even attack in Sinta at all?”
Slogging through fog, it takes me a moment to place the voice. Piers.
“Why would they even care about stopping a healing center?” Egeria asks.
“They didn’t care about the healing center.” Griffin’s response is edgy and gruff. It still soothes me to hear his voice. “There’s no reason for them to care, or to even know about it. Someone else was behind this, someone with knowledge of our plans and gold to buy mercenaries.”
“Someone Tarvan or someone Fisan?” Carver asks. “Or both, creating an alliance against us?”
“Or Sintan,” Piers suggests. “Nobles are used to having a certain amount of influence with the royal family. It’s in their best interest to replace us with one of their own.”
Egeria sighs. “I wish Cat would wake up. She’d have ideas about all this, I’m sure.”
“I just wish Cat would wake up,” Griffin says dully.
Emotion swells in my chest. Warm fingers brush my forehead. The touch is gentle, the skin rough. I want to turn into Griffin’s hand. The irony isn’t lost on me. I spent weeks rejecting him, and now that I don’t want to anymore, I can’t even move.
“Do you have any idea who she is?” Piers asks. “She’s the perfect match for a Fisan noble—northern coloring, light-green eyes, a terrifying amount of magic
, and the arrogance to match it. She could practically be a Magoi royal in terms of power.”
“Except she’s not a bloodthirsty tyrant,” Griffin says.
They’re all silent. I’m not sure anyone agrees.
“The realm dinner is coming up,” Egeria says nervously. “What if a Sintan noble was behind the attack?”
“Cat will figure it out,” Carver says. I can’t help thinking his confidence is optimistic considering my current state.
“How?” Egeria asks.
I imagine him shrugging, his lean, muscled shoulders rolling with the effortless grace of an expert swordsman. “That’s what she does. Reads people.”
“What if she doesn’t get better?” Egeria voices the question everyone is thinking, especially me.
Griffin strokes my hair. “She will.”
“But what if she doesn’t?” Egeria insists.
Boots stomp, and the door creaks open. “Kato! Flynn! Get a healer in here!”
Egeria’s muttering tells me this ground has already been covered. Repeatedly. “They can’t do anything, Griffin.”
“They’re not trying!” he snaps.
“I think they are.”
He curses. “I need to be sure.” He comes back to the bed and picks up my hand. “Otherwise, I’ll take her to Selena.”
Yes, please.
“You shouldn’t move her,” Egeria frets. “It might disturb her.”
“I don’t care if it disturbs her! She’s not eating or drinking. She’s skin and bones.”
Me? Skin and bones? Ha!
There’s a commotion to my left. The door opens, feet shuffle, and the door closes again.
“No more games, Healer. Fix her.” Griffin is either pointing imperiously at me or he’s got his legs braced apart, his arms crossed over his chest, and a ferocious scowl on his face. I can’t decide.
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