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Edored’s shrieking turned into sputtering, then into quieter wailing. On his forearms, the crimson blots of burned skin were turning leathery brown and parched, deadly scabs spreading over his skin … but where the water had hit, the advance of the plague magic seemed to have slowed.
‘Let me,’ Tared snapped, and Creon released Edored without a moment of hesitation. The two alves were gone the same moment, leaving an abrupt, echoing silence behind.
Perhaps half a minute had gone by since that first scream. It may have been less than that.
Only then did my trembling fingers let go of Beyla’s sword; it tumbled into the grass with a dull thud, too heavy for my aching limbs to hold. Creon snapped around at the sound. There was a coldness to his gaze, to the way his eyes flicked around the courtyard and back to my face – estimating danger, estimating just how much it would cost him to pull me into his arms and fly the both of us out of this gods-damned mess.
For an unmeasurable fraction of time, I almost hoped he would.
‘Where … where did they go?’ My voice came out too high and too hoarse. ‘What did he …’
Water, Creon signed again – curt, hurried gestures.
Of course. The nearest brook. The well behind the temple wing. Any body of water bigger than a little tin tub, big enough to submerge a grown alf. The pieces clicked together slowly, thoughts still wrestling to catch up with the sudden whirlwind of panic and pain.
‘How did you know that would work, if blue magic couldn’t heal him?’
Didn’t know, he signed wryly.Bit of an experiment.
‘Oh, gods. If that had gone wrong …’
Something twitched at his jaw. A minimal clue – but a clue nonetheless – that told me he realised exactly what risk he’d taken, what might have happened to Edored if his theories on the sea stopping the plague had been incorrect.
More interestingly, a clue that suggested he was not entirely indifferent about it, either.
I looked over my shoulder and found Beyla still standing near her apple tree, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at the place where Tared had disappeared. In a moment of desperate genius, I blurted out, ‘Should we try to fetch Lyn and Naxi? Naxi might know more about—’
‘Yes,’ Beyla said breathlessly, tearing her eyes away – glad for something to do, as I’d hoped. ‘I’ll go find them.’
I opened my mouth to thank her, but she’d already disappeared, voluntarily leaving me and Creon alone for the first time this journey. The surest clue of just how shaken she was; a shame that I was hardly in the mood to tear his shirt off him at this moment.
Clever, Creon signed.
‘Not as clever as you and your theories,’ I muttered, which had to be the sorriest retort I’d ever given him. ‘Are you alright?’
He shrugged tersely, wings flaring a fraction with the motion.I’m not the one who ran into a wall of divine magic.
‘No, but you look …’ Distressed. Worried, even? I settled for, ‘Affected.’
A dead alf wouldn’t get us any closer to Zera, he signed, sticking his free hand into his pocket with what would have been convincing nonchalance if not for the short, almost unnoticeable hesitation that accompanied his words.Not to mention the uproar the rest of the household would cause.
Uproar.They were so damn convincing, the disparaging motions of his slender fingers, the hint of a sneer that curled around those sensual lips of his – a perfect picture of the cruel fae prince who noticed only the threat of his own plans falling to ruin. But I knew that deliberate way he flattened his wings against his shoulders. I knew the way he held my gaze just too stubbornly, his almond eyes flickering with defiance.
My heart gave a little twinge. Was this when you knew you loved someone – when you fell in love even with the lies they told themselves?
‘You do care,’ I said quietly.
He stiffened, hand frozen halfway to the next word.
‘And you should know better than to lie to me, you idiot.’ I let out a laugh. ‘What am I going to do – mock you? If I need something to taunt you with, I have more than enough to say about your pathetic lack of dragon tattoos.’
A mirthless laugh escaped his lips.Em—
And then Tared appeared on the path between us, the soaked, battered, motionless shape of his cousin heavy in his arms, and all lies and smiles evaporated from my mind again.
Because Edored’s head lolled powerlessly onto his chest, like a lifeless rag doll’s head. Wet blond hair drooped like a veil around his burned face, unable to hide the crimson wounds marring his cheeks, his chin, his temple. His scab-covered arms dangled lifelessly at his sides, his eyes were half-lidded and glassy, and for one spine-chilling moment I feared, Iknew—
‘Knocked him out,’ Tared said brusquely, interrupting the primal scream of my thoughts. ‘He kept trying to drown me.’
