Page 22 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
‘You must have had night sweats again.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Let’s get you cleaned and changed.’
I instantly regretted my stubbornness in forcing myself to sit up. Clearly deceiving her into thinking I had more energy than I did. She untangled me from the covers and moved me to the edge of the bed, quickly laying out warm towels, and brought a steaming bowl of water. Then she set about getting me out of my damp nightgown.
I sat obediently, ignoring the horrid sudden cramping sensation in my middle as my fingers curled into the sheets and I let my eyes close. The motion of just sitting up exhausted me. Too weakened by everything that had come before.
‘I’ll get you another tonic.’ Alma ran her hand through my hair before she quickly braided it to stop it tangling.
I could only nod weakly. Numb fingers trying to catch hers in the barest brush of thanks. How effortlessly she took care of me despite how foolish I could be. Fatigue wearing too heavily on my limbs. Understanding the pain was another way for my body to tell me how far I’d pushed it. Almost punishing me for my recklessness.
She managed my clumsy limbs effortlessly as she towelled me off only for my focus to fall to my bare thigh, seeing the curving streak of scar on the delicate inner skin. A vicious mark, still puckered from healing. My fingers dragged over the raised texture. How strangely cold it was.
Kyvor Mor. That creature’s voice hissed in the back of my mind. The glee in its torment. The phantom agony of its claw digging into my thigh making me wince.
The warmth of Alma’s hands gently brought me back as she tried to put me in another nightgown, only for her to see where my focus had fallen.
‘It looks better than it did,’ she reassured me. ‘Emrys stopped the bleeding, but he had to revert to mortal practices. He was too fearful there were shards left inside.’
A grief clung to her words as she pulled the nightgown over my head. Perhaps it was a mercy that I didn’t remember any of it. Yet they all did. What Emrys had done to try to save me.
My fingers moved to the side of my throat, feeling uneven, cold skin there too. Remembering the ache of where the galmoth had bitten me.
Alma caught my hand, curling it into the safety of her own grasp. ‘The galmoth left a scar. It’s better than it was. Emrys said it should be less noticeable in a few weeks.’
Her reassurance was small and weighted with too much grief. Grief I’d given to her.
‘He isn’t here.’ The words slipped too painfully from my lips. A crushing weight to them. Remembering he was calling for me.
‘He was,’ she sighed, worry creasing her brow as she fixed the nightgown around me, before gently bullying me back under the covers. ‘Get comfortable and I’ll try to read some of those hideously boring soil books William left.’
I wanted to laugh, but a small broken sound escaped my lips as she tucked the covers around me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. Sorry for my foolishness. For making too many mistakes. For being incapable of keeping her safe.
‘Enough of that,’ she chided, brushing her lips against my forehead. ‘You’re here. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.’
Yet as exhaustion weighted my limbs and consciousness drifted away, fear dug its claws into my heart that those words were a lie. They had to be.
Chapter Nine
Kat
The dark calls all things back in the end.
I could taste bitter earth. Feel the phantom sting of a blade across my throat. The agony as it cut to the bone. The burning scrape of that darkness against my skin.
A horrid scream.
Emrys.
His roar of agony as that darkness tore him open.
The warm splatter of his blood. Claws ripping through his heart. Seeking something within.
You thought you could keep him, Tauria?A dark voice hissed against the shell of my ear. Lurching me into waking once again. A horrid repetitive fate I’d found myself in. Nothing before me but the darkness of the night. Alone in this room.
Moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting strange dark shapes across the floor that seemed to move out of the corner of my eye. My heart pounded, sweat dripping from my temples as my fists clutched the sheets. Seeing things that weren’t there. Haunted by the phantom sting of a blade across my throat. The agony as it cut to the bone deep in that pit. All the fey that had died there before. Every single one remained with me even now. Just as those in Daunton had.
The covers suddenly felt too heavy. Trapping me.
