Page 56 of Of Sword & Silver

I’m moving before I’ve had time to think it through.

“Please,” she begs, her eyes moving quick behind her still-closed lids. I bend over her and her fists curl into my shirt, the same one I’ve worn for two days, the one from the crypt.

She shouldn’t have to touch it. She shouldn’t have to seek comfort in the arms of death.

A second later, she’s in my arms.

She’s so small and warm against my body, her face and chest glistening with a sheen of sweat. Her hands clench and unclench the fabric of my shirt. A stream of unintelligible nonsense comes from her mouth, and the only thing that’s clear is that whatever she’s dreaming about is terrifying her.

I watch her fight in her sleep for a long moment, simply holding her in front of the dying fire. This, comforting another, is so far beyond what I know and am used to.

These hands are used to dealing death, not holding another.

I lean closer, trying to suss out what she’s saying in her sleep, like knowing will unlock the secret of what her power over me is.

Her skin’s so pale, paler than usual, blue veins standing out on the delicate skin of her eyelids, her lashes dark blonde and twitching. I’m so close to her, the scent of the lye in the soap she used to wash before falling asleep in front of the fire fills my nose and mouth, but it’s not strong enough to block out the scent of her, that smell that’s tantalized me for days now.

My exhalation sends the fiery hair across her forehead flying, and I inhale her again, the subtle sweetness of her short human life better than anything I’ve ever known.

I don’t know why the impulse seizes me, but I act on it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like it’s inevitable. My lips brush against her forehead, velvet night crowding out the sun.

She goes still, her small, clenched fists loosening on my shirt, and fear grips me—fear like I’ve never known—that I’ve woken her and that now I’ll face her human wrath.

Her eyes are still closed, though, and it’s not a scowl that greets me on her face.

No, Kyrie is smiling in her sleep, a faint shadow of her waking mirth, but a smile all the same.

I clutch at her, emotion welling tight in my chest, too much to hold in, overwhelming.

The urge to take her back to the chair I slept in, to hold her through the rest of the darkness, to soothe her into peaceful dreams and keep her nightmares at bay, tears at my willpower to keep my distance from her.

Clenching my teeth, I set her carefully back down on the nest of blankets, tucking her, watching her, unable to look away.

I stoke the fire, wanting to keep her warm. My embrace won’t be welcomed in the light of day.

Mortals prefer to be held in the dark of night, to be embraced by death unknowing.

I keep watch over her, jealous of the way dawn’s fingers caress her skin as daylight slowly creeps through the windows.

18

KYRIE

We leave the slumbering town of Effingwich soon after dawn. Of course, it takes us longer to get on the road than Lara would like, but I can’t stop yawning.

I slept well enough last night, I think, cozy in front of her hearth. It’s probably that I’ve never been a morning person, unlike Lara, who seems as well-rested and ready to take on the world as ever.

My horse prances a bit, and a little grin kicks the sides of my mouth up at her obvious joy at being out and about on this crisp winter morning. The sun is shining, and despite my sleepiness and the heavy task ahead, the world seems full of possibilities.

Morrow rides a destrier, a dapple-grey warhorse who looks like he’d be as much at home in front of a cart as he is with the massive warrior astride him.

As for the Sword, he barely looks at me this morning, which… I think I prefer.

Especially since I had the strangest dream about him.

My fingers flutter over my forehead, and I can almost feel his lips there. My cheeks heat at the memory of the dream. Probably a fever dream, compliments of the chalice’s blood curse.

Didn’t realize I’d be having vivid sex dreams from drinking it, but if that’s a side effect, I can think of worse.

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