Page 82 of Wrath of the Dragons
“Can I start removing the shards?”
“I don’t know!” Ryder throws his hands up.
“Yes. I will be right back,” Asena answers before rushing through the portal.
“Okay.” I shove the stray pieces of my hair behind my ears and take a deep breath. I’ve healed countless wounds. I can do this. I can’t let him die. “Cayden, this is going to hurt.”
“Do what you must,” he says.
I don’t waste time before wrapping my hand around the first shard, careful to avoid cutting myself, and yanking it out. Cayden doesn’t so much as blink, and I’m worried his body has become numb until I look down to where his hand clutches the hilt of his blade. I yank out another shard trailing down his right side, and once again,nothing.I wonder how much pain he’s experienced in life to perfectly mask it when anyone else would be screaming. If I could kill his father myself, I would, and I’d make it slow. Only years of training keep me fromlosing my head. I know I can’t heal him, but I can at least prepare him for whoever Asena is bringing to us.
He meets my eyes. “You can’t hurt me.”
“We both know that’s a lie,” I whisper.
I swallow through my tight throat, continuing my actions until all the shards are out, and begin unhooking his armor. Why can’t love find a way to untwine itself from tragedy?
Oh, gods.
I’m in love with him.
I think I have been for a while, but how could I have been so blind? Love is the swelling feeling in my chest whenever he’s near, like I’ll burst if he doesn’t wrap his arms around me. Love is how he kisses my tears and scars to replace my pain with adoration. It’s the catch in my breath from both intimate and simple touches, and the weakness in my knees when he stares at me with intense eyes.
Love is woven into our daily lives so completely that we don’t realize it when it’s right in front of us because it’s always present.
Cayden’s been scaling the walls of the fortress I keep my heart locked in for months. I am entirely his. Trying not to love him is like attempting to survive without breathing.
I unlatch his armor and cut through his undershirt until his chest is bare. I press my lips together to keep from crying out. Ryder looks away, pressing a fist in front of his mouth as his nostrils flare. He’s covered in blood and bruises from the retreat.
“Remind me to get hurt more often if it results in you ripping my clothes off,” Cayden slurs.
I force a laugh for his sake, knowing he’d be keeping me calm if the roles were reversed. “It’s the only time I find you tolerable.”
“I can think of some other times.” More blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. “Some very good times.”
“ASENA!” I scream toward the swirling portal, no longer able to keep my fear masked. I’m wholly inadequate to treat him. My uselessness is so potent I could choke on it.
The veins in his neck, chest, and arms on his right side are turning black, spiderwebbing through his skin. A female mage cloaked in purple robes steps through the portal with Asena. The pair of them rush toward us and drop to their knees on Cayden’s other side.
“Your Majesty,” the woman says, her tone grave as she looks down at the wounds.
“No.” I can’t hear that tone. I can’t listen to her pity. I can’t lose him.
“A poison of this nature is extremely deadly. It pollutes the blood until only the poison remains.”
“I didn’t ask what it was,” I hiss. “I’m commanding you to heal him.”
Finnian finds us, his eyes sticking to Cayden as he remains rooted in place. I think it’s strange for all of us to see Cayden like this; out of all of us he’s the one who seems unbreakable. Asena and the woman delve into a heated discussion, but my heart is pounding too fiercely to absorb more than every other word.Please don’t take him. Please don’t take him. Please don’t take him.
“Let me see those pretty eyes, sirantia.” Cayden reaches a hand up to cradle my face. “The marriage clause is fulfilled. Nobody has the right to challenge your claim to the Vareveth throne, even if I’m not ruling beside you.”
Finnian kneels beside me, but doesn’t reach out, just lets me know he’s here for whatever I need as I shake my head. “Stop talking.”
“That word. It means—”
“No.”
“Starlight.”
