Why would Alistair, who had her entirely at his mercy, give her something that undermined all the power he held against her? With the Cloak, Isobel would be protected from all common magick spells and curses, including his own.
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
He shuddered. “I had to fight off the Thorburn and the Blair for it. But I won.”
“Are they…？” Her heart clenched, thinking of Briony. She didn’t even realize Briony was working with Finley now, though she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.
Alistair shook his head. “No. I didn’t kill them.”
But he looked shaken, and he’d clearly been hurt.
For her sake.
“Why did you do it?” Because no matter how much she tried, Isobel couldn’t reconcile the image of Alistair, wounded and shivering, with the one who had almost murdered her hours before.
“Because I hate the way you look at me,” he spat. “Like I’m a monster.”
“Aren’t you?” Isobel had learned that Alistair wasn’t invulnerable, but the role of the dragon was one he’d fashioned for himself. One he wanted.
“Obviously, I’m not a very good monster.” He reached for another healing spellstone, having entirely drained his first.
Unsure how to respond, she pulled the Cloak over herself and fastened its three spellstone clasps—no doubt pulsing with the vibrant red of high magick, if only she could see it. The tension in her shoulders eased for the first time since she’d lost her powers. With this, she was safe. It was the most priceless gift she’d ever received.
When Alistair finished, he wordlessly dumped his own pile of clothes onto the cavern floor.
“You can take the bed,” he said.
“Um, thanks.” It looked just as disgusting to Isobel as the floor, but at least it was comfortable. She slid beneath the moth-eaten covers and watched him bundle a cardigan into a pillow.
The silence was so complete that she could hear her own heart hammering against her ribs. It had been easier to spend time with Alistair when she believed seducing him was merely part of her strategy. Because with every touch, with every breathless look, she had noticed things about him other than his cruelty, things she’d tried to ignore.
He was clever. Even if he’d needed her instruction in his spellmaking, he asked the right questions and was quick to see the pattern in its details. He was rigidly self-disciplined when it came to studies—oftentimes he sat down in the morning to craft spells and remained there for hours, until Isobel’s own mind had grown exhausted. She liked his eyes, dark and gray. The sort of eyes meant to be admired in candlelight.
She would need to rethink her opinion of him. She would need to rethink everything.
“What are we?” she asked.
He paused for several moments before finally answering, “Champions.”
It was only a kinder way of saying enemies.
“We had a deal.” Isobel would help him craft new spells and curses, and Alistair would help her get her powers back. But he’d already risked his life to bring her the Cloak, and she hadn’t asked for that.
“I’m sorry for frightening you earlier. Now that you have that, you can leave any time you wish.”
But Isobel didn’t think it wise to go. She already knew that Carbry Darrow, Elionor Payne, and Finley Blair had formed an alliance. If Alistair had faced Briony tonight as well, then she’d probably joined them. Even if Isobel regained her powers, she had far better odds of defeating a group of four with an alliance herself. Two against four was hardly a winning match, but she and Alistair were stronger than all of them.
“We should be allies,” Isobel told him.
“Alliances only put off the inevitable.”
“Four against one is suicide.”
“Well, it’s not four against two if I’m the only one fighting.”
“It won’t be. Not if I get my powers back.” As if that would be so simple. As if she hadn’t spent the past week agonizing over the question of what had gone wrong with the Reaper’s Embrace.
Alistair sat up and turned to her. Isobel’s breath hitched from the intensity in his gaze. Now that she had the Cloak, the two of them were on more equal ground. But somehow, she was still losing her balance.
“If you make a mistake, you could die.”
“I’ll die if I don’t get my powers back,” she pointed out. “The Cloak can’t protect me forever.”
“You don’t even know what went wrong.”