Emmery swiped at her stinging eyes and tucked the vial and Talia’s gift back in her wardrobe. Then she steeled her expression, and left her room. She didn’t know where to go, what to do, and she wandered the halls. Dez wouldn’t be back for a few days, which left her plenty of time to spiral.
Lost in thought, she nearly ran smack into Fionn and Cyrilla.
To her surprise, Cyrilla’s eyes were red, as if she hadn’t slept or possibly, had been, of all things,crying.
“What happened?” Emmery choked out. Fear settled into her heart as she imagined the worst. “Did something—”
Fionn snatched her into a hug and said, “We didn’t want to worry you after all you went through. But there are things you need to know.”
“What are you talking about?” She wrestled out of his hold.
Fionn sighed and crossed his arms. He looked good, his bronze eyes bright, healthy weight on his thin frame, and colour to his cheeks. But his weary expression twisted her gut. “You should sit down,” he said.
Emmery pressed her palms into her blurry eyes.
Cyrilla snatched Emmery’s hand, not the one with the rose pactum, but with the red carved flesh. Her first instinct was to wrench away, but Cyrilla studied it with such intensity Emmery froze, her blood icy.
And then, the ground gave out beneath her as Cyrilla hissed, “Deimos desist, what has he done?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
VESPER
The healers gave Kyrith a sedative which left her buried in sleep, but accelerated her healing. As she rested, Vesper sat at her bedside,and waited for her to wake, or rather refused to leave. An ember of betrayal simmered in his chest. Her scars flashed behind his closed eyes and he gritted his teeth.
He had no right to be angry. In fact, hedeservedit since he’d kept his identity secret, and yet, his heart bloody hurt. He didn’t understand whyshe hadn't told him, and he should have caught on from her expertise towardShadowhearts. He really was a moron, for so many reasons. But as a sort of fucked up silver lining, hehadfound another of the six as part of the prophecy.
Zyphira was right. He did need to find her. He just didn’t know what to do with that information now.
Vesper watched Kyrith’s bandaged chest rise and fall, and her breath occasionally snagged. Each time it sent a twinge of pain through his own chest, like the dagger had cut into him instead. He timed each of his breaths with hers. It was stupid and didn’t make any sense, but he couldn’t help himself.
Thorrin offered to take over while Vesper searched for Nef, but he found no trace of her, though her belongings remained in her cabin. Maybe she’d gone off with Gaelen somewhere. Shortly after, he’d returned to Kyrith’s bedside, not able to keep away.
For two days, he dozed on and off, his forehead pressed into the corner of her bed. Each time he woke to a nasty crick in his neck.
Once, he dreamed of fingers tangled in his hair, a touch he would give his left nut to wake up to every morning. When he opened his eyes, his heart kicked into a sprint as he met her gaze, bruised, a little swollen, yet her feisty spark remained.
“Why are you on the floor?” she croaked, her voice void of her singsong quality.
He folded his arms on the quilt and rested his chin atop them. “Someone was hogging the bed. And there’s only so long I can sit in one of those chairs without my ass falling asleep.” He nodded at the wooden seat behind him.
A tiny laugh squeaked from her and she winced, clutching her chest. When he sat up, her lips parted, and he couldn’t get fucking air into his lungs. Maybe due to all the questions that invaded his mind, or the hurt, or—
Maybe something else entirely.
A foreign emotion invaded her usual hard exterior. “You didn’t need to stay,” she said softly.
“You told me not to leave you, remember? And I believe some profanity was sprinkled in there.” He dragged his hand down hisface, only to find a crease in his forehead from the bed frame.Wonderful. While he wanted to scream at her for jerking him around and demand answers, instead he asked, “How do you feel?”
This trust between them, fragile like his ego, could shatter at her command. And yet, he didn’t know what he would do without her scrutiny.
“I’m fine,” she muttered. It was less than convincing. Her attention warred between his lips, his eyes, and the beige quilt as her hair hid her face like a curtain. “I should explain.”
His stomach twisted into knots, but he only nodded.
She gripped the blankets. “I should have told you.”
“No fucking kidding,” he murmured.