Page 117 of A Throne of Blood and Ice

“Of course.” The words are like sandpaper against my throat.

He takes my hand and lifts me from the floor, and I fight the urge to clutch him with all my might, to carve the imprint of my fingers into his palm, to absorb the memory of his touch. When we arrive at the center of the most open space in the room, he gestures for me to sit down, and I do, tucking my knees into my chest.

“I’ll need to draw your blood,” he says, the furrow between his brows deepening. “It’s the last ingredient in the potion.”

But I’m already extending my wrist. “I know. You’ve already reminded me a dozen times.There are a multitude of binding agents in this realm, but blood is the most potent of all,” I mimic, trying my best to earn a smile.

Nox simply exhales. Then he takes my hand, running his thumb over my wrist, where blue veins paint blue rivulets against my skin.

I savor the feel of it, the burning of his touch.

“I promise not to hurt you, Blaise,” he says.

I consider my suspicion that Nox’s condition leaves him free to lie, but now doesn’t seem like the time to bring it up. Not when it might make him feel that I lack confidence in him.

“You’ve already said that quite a few times, too,” I tease. “I know I’m not the best reader, but I am capable of listening, you know.”

When he looks up at me through those long, dark eyelashes, my heart stutters. “Still. I can promise again if you’d like.”

My heart gets stuck in my throat, so I say, “That won’t be necessary. I trust you.”

“I drank three pounds of lamb blood this morning. My belly feels like it’s about to burst, but I won’t—”

“Won’t hurt me. Got it.” I flash him a teasing smile, but I’m not sure it meets my eyes.

Nox swallows, and I can tell he’s holding his breath when he slices my wrist with the scalpel. My breath hitches at the short sting. For a moment, his eyes glaze over and his throat works, but then he blinks, and the drunken aura is gone. When he turns my wrist over, blood runs in converging rivulets and drips into the pewter bowl in his lap.

When the first drop hits the milky substance, it hisses and steams. But then the red coloring disappears, and it looks as though the blood hadn’t been added at all.

Nox sets the bowl down and quickly wraps my wound, though his gaze is anywhere but on me as he does it.

When he’s done, he dips two fingers into the pasty substance and begins drawing patterns on the stone floor, ancient-looking symbols that form a circle about me. A shrine of which I am the centerpiece. It takes him what feels like an hour to create the necessary markings, and my back begins to ache.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s not comfortable, but if you move, it will negate the spell,” he says, and I snipe back a slight jab that fades from my memory as soon as it flees my mouth.

I feel as though each symbol spells out death.

There’s one in front of me that looks like a sickle and a sheaf of bound flax, and I’m reminded that my life is near to being cut down. Another reminds me of a thread, and I can’t help but think of how it might fray and snap. Another depicts the full moon.

I try not to look at that one.

I watch Nox, separated from me now by the mural of symbols that surrounds me, wipe the substance off his fingers and onto his robes.

It’s then I realize I’ll never touch him again.

He’ll touch me when he realizes what he’s done. When my body collapses to the floor. But I will not feel it when he cradles my head, when he pulls me into his lap and runs his fingers through my damp hair.

“We shouldn’t have long now,” he says, and I can tell he’s nervous too, though for a completely different reason.

Or perhaps the same reason, now that I think of it.

“What are you planning to catch the parasite in when it slithers out of me?” I ask.

Nox flashes me a sheepish grin and pulls out a box that looks to be made of adamant, one with runes carved into the sides. “I actually thought of that this time.”

“You think that will hold it?” I ask, huffing a laugh. A real laugh, and he shrugs.

“If this doesn’t, I don’t know what will.”

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