Page 118 of Demon Food

I searched his gaze, silently mouthing, “Why would I be?”

“Because,” he nearly shouted. “Because this is unfair. You should be angry, Alek. At me. At life. At the fact that the very thing that makes you so special is the same thing that will kill you.”

Oh, Snow Fox. Oh, I felt the pain buried in his words.

“We have to get you help,” he said, suddenly sober, pushing himself from the bed. “If you won’t take me, then another human. We’ll find you another human right now. Come on. Get up.”

I stared at him, slowing my blinking, letting the line of my lips soften. He knew what I was thinking without my needing to say it. Which was why he cursed under his breath.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” he said, and I could almost swear, his sweet voice cracked as he sat heavily onto the bed. “You were supposed to do it. You weren’t supposed to get hurt, Alek. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

I shook my head, beckoning him closer with my fingertips.

“I am sorry, Prince,” he whispered, and that time, his voice did crack. Just like his eyes got a little glassy. “I have brought you that much closer to death’s door.”

I used strength I didn’t have to reach out and grab his wrist, hauling him into me where I palmed his face and pressed our foreheads together.

With him this near, it was easy to project into his mind, You have brought me that much closer to YOU.

He startled when it hit him, but I held him tight.

Not even death, darling. Not even death can take that from me.

He pinched his lips together, eyes watery and beyond beautiful, and oh, how I wished I could ease his troubled heart. If I could, I would burrow inside until I found the thread responsible for so much pain, and then I would pull until he unraveled in my hands.

He jumped when three sharp knocks sounded at the door.

My senses were far from acute in my current state, but it’d be impossible to miss the panic leaching through the door before he even had a chance to yell, “Prince, it’s me. It’s Lucc.”

Feloré glanced at me. Me, who couldn’t talk. Me, who could barely move. I did not wish to see him. It was going to do nothing to lessen his concern for me, but if there was news from Amara, this was it. I tipped my chin toward the door, and Feloré rushed to it.

Lucc acknowledged him with a confused look, then shot past him, inside my chambers, where he halted cold.

He blinked at me like he didn’t recognize me. Like I was a ghost sitting in the Prince of Novithia’s bed, covered in the prince’s blood.

His head shook, lips nearly trembling, like he had a hundred different questions, but he didn’t speak, just stared. I didn’t need a mirror to know why.

I pointed to the desk, motioning for something to write with. He blinked hard as if lifting himself from a daze. Then he rushed to the desk and returned with a pen and my journal opened to a blank page.

The creamy white of the paper looked so clean in contrast to my filthy hands as I wrote:

News from Amara?

Lucc was eyeing me, the same concern as Feloré upon his brow as I twisted the journal to him, but he forced himself to read it. He cleared his throat and said, “Yes. That is why I’m here. Amara wanted me to tell you that she has the human’s brother in her possession.”

Feloré’s eyes got huge. He was nearly out of breath as he asked, “What? Are you sure?”

“She was looking for you,” Lucc answered him with a nod. “And she found him instead.”

Feloré gushed in relief, a hand pressed against his chest.

“Neopal has been tasked with locating his whereabouts,” Lucc continued. “So, if he has not been here today, that is why. He has started a palace-wide search.”

Feloré twisted to me, gaze probing my face for reassurance.

The thought of anyone finding a thing Amara did not want them to find made me smirk. I scribbled onto the page and twisted it around for him to read: They won’t find him.

The look of relief on his face was enough to melt me.