Page 65 of Darkness and Deceit
So let them doubt me. Let them try to keep me in the dark.
I’m done waiting.
I’ll rip the truth from their mouths if I have to.
I will learn. I will fight.
And the next time the world burns?—
I’ll be the one standing in the fire.
Twenty-One
LILITH
Somewhere between thehustle of healers in the hallway and the wheeze of Kai’s breathing, my body gave out. I think I drifted off to sleep sitting upright, then woke up with my cheek pressed to the mattress, my fingers still curled around his.
Hours passed like smoke. No beginning. No end. Just waiting.
Now, morning filters through the window on the far wall. It paints long shadows across the floor, hazy with steam and the faint scent of ashroot and juniper balm. I remember the smell from when I was here before—sharp, herbal, sterile. Healing.
Speaking of which, the healers have been in and out, their quiet footsteps whispering against the stone. They speak in hushed voices, like raising their tone might scare someone back into death. A few have offered me tea. One tried to convince me to go back to the dorm, but I refused. This is where I need to be.
The Keepers haven’t come in yet, but I’ve seen them in the hallway—one spoke to a healer earlier without bothering to lower his voice. They’re waiting. Listening. Watching.
Kai hasn’t moved.
I sit up slowly, every joint stiff, and press the heel of my palm into one eye. I don’t cry. I’m too tired. Too wrung out. But the ache in my chest hasn’t gone anywhere.
“Hey,” I whisper, brushing my thumb along his hand. “Still with me?”
No response. Just the faint rise and fall of his chest.
The bond between us flickers like a dying ember. Still there. Still faint. And I cling to it like a lifeline.
I don’t know what I’ll do if it goes dark.
I rest my forehead lightly against his and whisper again. “Please come back to me.”
And then?—
He blinks.
Just once. Slow and unfocused. But it’shim.
And for a moment, I forget how to breathe. I lean back just enough to see his face. His gaze slides over me—sluggish, dazed—and then lands, really lands, on my eyes.
“Kai,” I breathe.
His lips part like he’s trying to speak. Nothing comes out.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, cupping his face with both hands. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… stay with me.”
He blinks again. His lashes twitch. And then, barely audible, he rasps, “Hurts.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I know.”
His hand tightens around mine, a weak squeeze. His skin is dry and fever-hot, but that pressure—that instinct to hold on—nearly undoes me.
