I smile. “Neither was I. And yet here you are. Why?”
She closes her eyes, swallows hard. “I had to… see you.”
“I don’t have any more tokens to return.” I drag myself up a little higher, lying on my side to relieve the pain. “It was only the one. I hope the man who gave it to you is worth it.”
She doesn’t answer my implied question. She’s watching me, shivering, and I wish I could warm her up but despite the fever raging inside of me, my skin is as cold as the lake water.
And then she lifts her hand and touches my face.
It takes my breath away. I stay very still, in case I scare her and she takes that light hint of warmth and pressure away. It makes my chest clench.
When her hand falls away, I grab it, press it back to my cheek. “Selina.”
“I was just worried.” She tugs her hand and I let it go. She sits up, huddling over, rubbing at her arms. “You had that wound…”
“That’s why you came?”
“Why else?”
“Of course.” I bite the inside of my cheek and berate myself for hoping for anything more. This is already so much more than I could have asked for from a human I took advantage of. She was worried about me.
That’s sweet and unexpected.
“I’m fine, and you should go back,” I tell her, “quickly. You’re wet and it’s cold. Don’t fall sick and blame me for it.”
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. “How are you? The truth now.”
“I’m fine,” I say and reach for her, unable to stop myself—but the wound in my tail calls me out on my lie. It pulls as I move, making me hiss.
She pales. “Adar… Oh Gods, that wound looks worse.”
“Does it?” I glance down at my tail, the deep gash, swollen and crimson. I feel the fever coursing through my body. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. I should bring a healer.”
“And be hanged as a traitor?” I laugh. “No.”
“I’ll bring poultices. I brought you food.” She gestures further up the bank. “My bag. I brought you a shirt, too.”
“So that I can pretend to be a man? I don’t want your pity and worry.”
She sighs. “I only wanted to help you.”
“Now you care?” It’s not anger that makes me ask. It’s a place deep inside of me that hurts almost as much as the wound in my flesh. A part that still hopes.
But her smile vanishes. “You’re right. I should go.”
“Selina…”
Slowly, laboriously, she gets up and it fucking kills me that I can’t help her. Gathering her sodden skirts, she staggers upright, wiping wet strands of hair from her face.
“This was a mistake,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have come at all.”
“Don’t,” I breathe, dragging myself toward her. “Wait.”
She lifts the bag and carries it down to me, lets it drop in front of me. “Be well, Adar. I don’t think my fate has anything to do with you.”
“Fate? I don’t care about fate. Selina—”