But now Tess had her arm around the man in the car, helping him out, and recognition struck Verd to his core.
David should have changed more since Verd had seen him. It seemed unfair—it had been fifteen years, after all, and he'd changed, and humans were supposed to be a more changeable kind than his own.
But it was still David: the floppy brown hair, the lanky body now draped on Tess's shorter frame, the lines of his face that Verd had once traced with fingers and lips. There were a few fine lines around his eyes now, crinkling as he gave a pained smile to something Tess had said—and that hurt, it hurt, that she'd had so many more of his smiles, could still coax them out, even now ...
Because it was clear that something was badly wrong with him. David moved as if his very bones hurt, and he slumped against the side of the car as Tess supported him, giving the impression that he didn't even have the strength to stand unaided.
And there was something about him that Verd could sense even from here. Something off, a sickness, a poison.
One of your kind, Tess had said, and his chest clenched: righteous anger at the unfairness of the accusation, mingled with guilt. He could believe a lot of things of a nature nymph, but he didn't think she was lying. A dragon had hurt David, infected him with something that was even now spreading and growing, threatening to consume him.
Tess murmured something to David and nudged him, and David looked up.
Verd had forgotten how expressive David's face was. It had always reflected his emotions like a mirror, and that was still true now—surprise and wonder, then a soft nervous warmth that was harder to take by far than the anger and resentment Verd had expected.
He had to look away, turning his gaze on the oreiad. Her face was challenging and hard; he found her dislike easier to cope with than the warmth and fondness that was still reflected in David's eyes.
"Take a room. The best that's available. Tell the clerk you're here with me and they won't charge you," he said, biting off the words before he could regret them more than he already did.
Something flashed deep in her eyes. "You'll help him?"
"I didn't say that," he said, his voice as hard as he could make it, and turned away, walked away, forcing himself not to look back at David, in that woman's arms.
"He's a jerk."
Lying on the bed in their room, David couldn't help smiling at Tess's indignation, despite the pain that the morphine hardly dulled anymore. "You've only seen what he wants you to see, so far."
"Okay, fine, so he wants me to know he's a jerk. That doesn't really help. And he's been completely useless, anyway."
The curtains were drawn and the lights in the room were off except for a single lamp, so all he could see of Tess at the moment was a mobile shadow that went in and out of focus as she paced, from the bedside table with the lamp around to the window side of the bed and back again. It made him smile again, thinking of how still she'd seemed when he'd first met her. Still, calm, cool. It was only later that he'd learned how fiery and passionate she could be.
She reminded him a lot of Verd, something he'd never realized until recently. He suspected neither of them would appreciate the comparison.
"So I guess we're supposed to sit here in the room until His Highness decides to pay us a visit," Tess muttered. "They don't even have room service here. What kind of hotel doesn't have room service?"
"One in the middle of nowhere, run by a dragon. You could go down and get something to eat."
She looked suddenly, terribly hopeful. "Are you hungry?"
"A little bit."
Tess grimaced. "I can tell when you lie. Don't forget that."
"Okay, so the idea of eating makes me feel sick, but I know that I need it. Think you could bring something up for us?"
Tess looked like she wanted to argue, but couldn't think of a good counter-argument. "All right. Do you want anything specific? I'd better get down there before the kitchen closes for the night."
"Just see what they have. Some soup, maybe."
She leaned down to kiss him, long and lingering, and squeezed his hand before leaving the room.
His body wanted to drag him back down into sleep. His entire life had been weakness and exhaustion lately, and sleep at least offered a temporary escape from the pain. But he fought to stay awake, and was rewarded a moment later when the door to their room clicked quietly open and a tall shadow slipped inside, pausing just within, one hand on the half-open door as if prepared for a hasty retreat.
"Verd," David said quietly, and the tall shadow flinched. "I didn't think you'd come in if she was here." Typical Verd, avoiding any situation he didn't want to deal with.
Verd hesitated, then let the door click shut behind him.
"Think you could come closer?" David asked. "It's hard to have a conversation if I can't see someone's face."