Nyktos moved astonishingly fast once more, folding an arm around my shoulders. I winced at the fresh wave of pain. He halted, his skin thinning and features sharpening. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay—” Shock flooded me as he worked his other arm under my knees and lifted me into his arms, cradling my unwounded shoulder against his chest. “Y-you don’t have to carry me.”
“I have to carry you.” He started walking.
Heat crept into my face. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not, Seraphena.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Nyktos stared straight ahead, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“My legs work,” I told him, starting to wiggle, but the burst of pain stilled me, making me dizzy.
He glanced down. “Tell me how fine you are again.”
“I can walk,” I muttered, closing my eyes because even being carried caused the torn muscles in my shoulder to throb to the point where it wasn’t the dizziness that worried me but the nausea.
“I can feel your pain. Taste it.”
“It’s really…not that bad,” I forced out, pressing my forehead against his chest as the shivers increased. I was so damn cold. “And there’s…more important stuff to deal with.”
“I’m dealing with the most important stuff right now.”
I heard a door open, and then someone spoke in a hushed voice that faded out. Or did I fade out? I wasn’t sure. But, for a brief second, nothing hurt, and my mind was blissfully empty. I wasn’t thinking about what I’d seen out there. Who I’d seen.
“Davina,” I said, “She’s…”
“I know.” His voice had quieted.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“As am I.”
I breathed through the burn of sorrow. “What…what about Lethe?”
“Lethe is fine.”
Relief rose. “But what of the wounded—？”
“I don’t give a shit about any of that right now,” he interrupted, his tone harshening. “You’re shivering.”
My eyes flew open as I tilted my head back. His gaze met mine. The essence had abated, leaving his eyes a sterling silver, and the shadows beneath his skin were now faint. “That’s not true. You give a shit. And I’m just cold.”
“You’re too cold.” A door slammed shut behind us as he strode into a chamber I thought was one of the many unused receiving areas of the main floor. “Just this once, can you stop arguing with me?”
“I’m not arguing.” I clenched my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering.
A chair scraped across the stone floor as we neared the fireplace, following us like a loyal hound. I began to wonder if I was seeing things. “You are almost always arguing with me.”
“No, I—” Flames roared to life, an intense silver before fading to a deep orange and red. “Was that you?”
“Yes. Impressed?”
“No,” I lied.
Nyktos smirked as he lowered us into the chair that had moved itself closer to the fireplace. My head sort of fell back, resting in the crook of his arm. It took a moment for his features to piece themselves together. They were all hard, unforgiving lines. “I’m going to check your wounds.”
He didn’t exactly wait for me to answer, but I didn’t stop him either. Soaking up the warmth of his body and the nearby fire, I forced myself to concentrate. “There was a god out there.”
“There were a lot of gods out there, Sera.”
“I know, but this one…wasn’t an entombed god. I don’t think he was from the Shadowlands. Or at least I hope not,” I said, and his hand halted as he reached for the sash. “He was looking for me. He knew what I looked like. Said he…thought he’d have to go into the palace to find me. Orphine sort of burned him to nothing.”
“Did this god say anything else?”
“Yeah. He smelled my blood and said it smelled like life,” I told him, inhaling slowly as I struggled to ignore the pain. “And like blood and ash.”
The eather in Nyktos’s eyes went still.
“Does my blood smell like that?” I asked as I sniffed the air. All I smelled was iron—iron and fresh citrus. My blood and Nyktos’s. “That sounds gross.”
“No, your blood smells like a summer storm.”
My brows pinched. How could blood smell like that? Better yet, what did that even smell like?
Nyktos undid the sash of my robe. The front loosened. His breath was sharp as he parted the folds. “Fuck. The bite is deep.”