Page 67 of The Cursed and the Broken
Snatching the dagger from the floor, I sliced my palm and discarded the blade, holding my hand aloft while I squeezed his arm with the other.
“Please,” I sent a prayer to the gods, the magic—anyone and everything—to listen. “Please.”
Closing my eyes, I willed some of that golden light into his veins. It burrowed into his flesh, flashing beneath his skin as the power began to work. Slowly, the blood stopped flowing and the tissue began to rejuvenate until the skin sealed and a pale sliver of a scar remained.
“Come back to me,” I whispered in his ear. His lips twitched, his breathing evening out into a steady rhythm. Sighing, I slumped behind him, shifting his head into my lap. He was going to be okay. Weak and groggy from blood loss, perhaps, but I trusted my power was still at work inside him, doing whatever was needed to combat the effects of blood loss.
Closing my eyes, I lay there, relishing every pump of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest.
I cried for the rest of the night.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“Sweet mother of mercy. Pleasetell me I don’t have to remove two bodies from the tub.”
The voice jolted me awake and I lifted my head, wincing at the twinge in my neck from sleeping in a bloody bathtub of all places. Dante still slept in front of me, so quietly I had to press a finger to this throat. His heart was pumping. Stronger than I’d expected after last night.
Sighing, I swivelled to face the intruder. Margit stood at the threshold, carrying a tray of fruits drizzled in honey as well as two porridge bowls. A carafe of what I prayed was water perched on top and I eyed it greedily.
“Margit.” My voice cracked, hoarse from sobbing all night. Her head was haloed from buttery sunlight pouring through the windows in the bathroom, giving her an angelic aura.
“You look like shit,” she grumbled, sniffing the air. “Smell like it, too.” One perfect eyebrow rose as she peeked into the tub, roving over the puddles of blood. Her gaze clouded with worry. “Is he … okay?”
“Mercifully. But we shan’t be repeating that anytime soon.”
Her sharp blue eyes pierced my own, and she clucked her tongue. “I like you, Kitarni, but you’d better be worth the trouble. If he’d died, I would have had your head.”
I didn’t doubt it for a second. “I would have laid it down for you,” I admitted. “I don’t—I don’t ever want to do that again.”
Watching him almost die last night was the scariest thing I’d ever witnessed. The memory of it?of his pallid skin, the blood dripping down his arms?sent a shiver down my spine. My heart ached at the thought of him hurt and my stomach felt like crows nipped at my flesh from the inside out at knowing I’d been the cause of his pain.
Never again. I couldn’t bear it and, right now, I was too relieved to dig deeper into what that meant.
Margit set the tray down on the bench and poured two goblets of water. Her face softened as she looked at the tear tracks down my cheeks. I could only imagine how frightful I looked.
“All that matters is you’re both alive. Here,” she passed the cups to me. “Drink this.”
I sculled the water in one go, licking my lips in relief. The movement stirred Dante and he mumbled something incoherent before his long lashes fluttered. He groaned as he woke, eyes cracking open slowly.
“Thank the gods,” I whispered.
“You weren’t lying when you said you were feeling murderous, Freckles,” he breathed, sitting up slowly.
Tears pricked my eyes. “I’m sorry, Dante. I—”
“I’m needed in the apothecary,” Margit said quickly. She turned on her heel, casting us a sly look before disappearing. Her lips curled with the slightest hint of amusement. If she wasn’t worried, that was a good sign, right?
I turned my attention back to Dante, who had shifted in the tub and was now leaning against the opposite end. His smile was smug. The kind of shit-eating grin only a noble’s son could conjure. Normally, I’d want to punch a hole in it, but I wilted in relief. Miraculously, his skin was flushed with colour and his arm was smooth, nothing but a scar to mark last night’s events.
“Why, pray tell, are you so pleased with yourself right now? You almost died, Dante!” My voice rose a few octaves, betraying the fear and distress from last night. I buried my face in my hands, trying to block the images from my mind’s eye.
I still recalled the power surging through me—his power. Fiery and bright and all-consuming. But the sight of seeing his blood running so freely, the way his body had sunk in on itself, that memory would haunt me. I had almost killed him. It was one thing to fight in self-defence, but something altogether different to see someone you cared about dying.
Shit. I did care. Maybe a little too much. My plans to keep things strictly sexual were not going well at all.
He swiped the other goblet still full of water from my hand, drinking it to the dregs. I eyed a bead of water dribbling down his chin. “You did it,” he said victoriously. “Your power is … you’re phenomenal, Kitarni.”
A blush stained my cheeks and I peeked up at him, shyness gripping my heart. “You’re ok then? I thought—” I choked on the words, too cowardly to admit just how much the lure of power had consumed me.
