Page 69 of A Throne of Blood and Ice

And when I leap from my pallet on the floor and into his arms, wrapping him up in a hug, I can’t help but notice he’s shaking.

Nox returns my embrace,but his limbs are stiff and trembling, and he’s so still it’s like he’s holding his breath.

When he pulls away, a bit of my heart crumples.

“I was so worried about you,” I say, hugging myself and not sure where to look now that I’ve launched myself at him and he’s responded by placing a distance between us that feels about as surmountable as a chasm.

He doesn’t acknowledge my admission. He just scans me with those icy blue eyes of his. First my neck, which his gaze lingers on long enough to make me fidget on my heels. Then my mouth, which I suppose he last saw foaming—so that’s not mortifying at all. Then the rest of me.

A shudder sweeps down my spine, and Nox’s gaze bounces behind me, where he must have noticed Gunter asleep on the dais.

“Do you have any lingering symptoms?” he asks, and though I’m a little shocked this is his first question, that it sounds so technical, I shake my head.

“Just a little weak, that’s all.”

He swallows. “Good.”

We stand there in silence for a moment before he speaks again. “Blaise, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. I should have never pushed you into taking the elixir so quickly.”

I shrug, trying to lighten the mood, but Nox looks as ill as ever. “It’s not like you shoved it down my throat.”

This doesn’t have the effect I intended, and Nox’s eyes smooth to glass for half a second. But then he’s back and apologizing to me. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s not like me to rush into that sort of experiment. Not without an antidote in mind. Not without Gunter there to assist should something go wrong.”

I reach out to place a hand on his arm, but he shrugs it away.

My heart wilts, and though his look is apologetic, it almost makes it worse.

Fates, I’ve misread him. He cares that he hurt me unnecessarily, but only because he’s not heartless. Not because he’s been harboring anything other than natural kindness for me.

I steel myself.

If I know how to do anything well, it’s smirk in the face of unrequited feelings.

“Was the queen so troubled over my condition that she punished you on my behalf?” I tease, though I draw my hand to my side and start picking at my trousers. Nox’s trousers, technically.

I’m not sure it’s possible for Nox’s face to go any paler, but somehow it defies natural order and does. “I can’t say she was thrilled to hear of my mistake,” is all he says.

“You know, you can talk to me abou—”

“I really should get to work on another way to cure you,” he says, skirting past me toward the workbench.

We sit in silence the rest of the morning, Gunter’s labored snores the only sound between us.

A week passeslike that before I’ve decided I’ve had enough.

The queen has Gunter on a mission to collect something for her from town, so it’s just me and Nox in the cell today.

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t spoken to me since the day he returned to work, or the fact that the letters on the page of the grimoire I’m trying to read keep twisting and turning, but I say, “All right. That’s it. I’m not standing for this any longer.”

Nox is pouring what looks to me like snot from one beaker into the next, but he goes perfectly still.

When he doesn’t respond, I toss the grimoire onto the bench, kicking up a plume of dust, and wrestle the beakers away from Nox’s grip.

I’m acutely aware that there’s no way I’d actually be able to wrestle them away from him if he didn’t allow it, so I take this as a sign that he’s open to my advances, regardless of how his expression betrays nothing.

“Don’t you want to find a cure for your problem? A way out of here?” he asks, and I ignore the way the simple statement that should be overwhelmingly true stings.

“Actually I’d prefer if the parasite just took over my body permanently. Less to deal with.”

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