Page 99 of Aryn

“Always gotta steal the glory.”

I offer him a weak smile. “The others?”

“They’re fine. We’re all fine, even if there was some, uh… drama.”

“What sort of drama?” I ask carefully.

“I, um…” He pushes a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “I might have attacked Ronan.”

My eyebrow lifts. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, with a shrug that’s decidedly unapologetic. “When you ran off, I tried to follow. He stopped me. I didn’t exactly like being stopped.”

I hum, tracing the shape of his arms beneath his sweater, grounding myself in his solid warmth. “I’m far too stubborn to die that easily. I promised I’d find my way back to you, and I always keep my promises.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he says softly.

Our eyes meet, and I hate that I can see the toll it took on him. Things that are normally so well masked are broadcast for the world to see. Ghosts of the fear linger just under the surface of his skin, and I swipe my thumb along those dark spots under his eyes like I might be able to wash them away.

“I won’t leave you again, Cato.”

He leans into my touch. “Good. We both know I’m supposed to be the reckless one, not you. Would be kind of rude to take that from me, don’t you think?”

My thumb drags over his lips, and he presses a kiss to the pad. “It would be rather impolite.” I agree. He kisses my thumb once more before I pull my hand back, glancing around the room as I try to get my bearings. Thick curtains are drawn over the windows and a bright fire crackles in the corner. I can’t tell what time it is.

“How long has it been?” I ask.

“Almost two full days. You were in and out for a while. Some of your wounds were pretty bad. You lost a lot of blood, and have a bunch of new stitches to add to your collection.”

“Ah, they didn’t let you sew me up, did they?”

“Ass,” he breathes with a quiet laugh. “Never fear. I wasn’t allowed anywhere close to the healers while they were working. You’ll stay pretty for another day.”

My smile fades as I process the information. My body feels heavy, but the worst of the pain has been dulled by whatever medicine they’ve given me. I try to sit up straighter and immediately regret it as fire shoots through my ribs.

Cato steadies me. “Easy. What do you need?”

“Bathroom,” I grunt.

He helps me up, letting me lean most of my weight on him as we shuffle to the attached washroom. I brush my teeth for long minutes until they finally feel clean again, then piss while he waits just outside the door. When I’m done, he helps me back to the bed and eases me onto the pillows.

I settle with a groan. “Tell me what happened.”

Cato sits on the edge of the bed, chewing on his lip and bouncing one foot restlessly beneath him. “Well, you already know about someone in our group running off to be a martyr against a fucking army.” I grunt, refusing to answer even as he glares. He rolls his eyes with a sigh and continues. “We ran here, and the guards met us outside. I showed them the ring like you told me to. Oh, here…”

He pulls my necklace from his pocket and loops it around my neck. The weight is a comfort against my skin, and I wrap my fingers around it, tracing the familiar shape.

“They recognized it?”

Something crosses his face, and his eyes dart away. “Yeah, they definitely did.”

I glance over his frame, clocking his clean clothes and hair. “You look well.”

“They’ve been good to us. We’ve had private rooms, plenty of food, and healers. They sent out a search party to find you and tracked down some of the group that was chasing us… hells, they even brought in a few to question.”

I pause at the angry clench of his jaw. “Who questioned them?”

He licks his lips, fists curling over his pants. Faint bruises color his knuckles, dotted by scabs of deep crimson over fresh cuts. “It doesn’t matter,” he says.