I breathed through the burn of sorrow. “What…what about Lethe?”
“Lethe is fine.”
Relief rose. “But what of the wounded—?”
“I don’t give a shit about any of that right now,” he interrupted, his tone harshening. “You’re shivering.”
My eyes flew open as I tilted my head back. His gaze met mine. The essence had abated, leaving his eyes a sterling silver, and the shadows beneath his skin were now faint. “That’s not true. You give a shit. And I’m just cold.”
“You’retoocold.” A door slammed shut behind us as he strode into a chamber I thought was one of the many unused receiving areas of the main floor. “Just this once, can you stop arguing with me?”
“I’m not arguing.” I clenched my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering.
A chair scraped across the stone floor as we neared the fireplace, following us like a loyal hound. I began to wonder if I was seeing things. “You are almost always arguing with me.”
“No, I—” Flames roared to life, an intense silver before fading to a deep orange and red. “Was that you?”
“Yes. Impressed?”
“No,” I lied.
Nyktos smirked as he lowered us into the chair that had moved itself closer to the fireplace. My head sort of fell back, resting in the crook of his arm. It took a moment for his features to piece themselves together. They were all hard, unforgiving lines. “I’m going to check your wounds.”
He didn’t exactly wait for me to answer, but I didn’t stop him either. Soaking up the warmth of his body and the nearby fire, I forced myself to concentrate. “There was a god out there.”
“There were a lot of gods out there, Sera.”
“I know, but this one…wasn’t an entombed god. I don’t think he was from the Shadowlands. Or at least I hope not,” I said, and his hand halted as he reached for the sash. “He was looking for me. He knew what I looked like. Said he…thought he’d have to go into the palace to find me. Orphine sort of burned him to nothing.”
“Did this god say anything else?”
“Yeah. He smelled my blood and said it smelled like life,” I told him, inhaling slowly as I struggled to ignore the pain. “And like blood and ash.”
The eather in Nyktos’s eyes went still.
“Does my blood smell like that?” I asked as I sniffed the air. All I smelled was iron—iron and fresh citrus. My blood and Nyktos’s. “That sounds gross.”
“No, your blood smells like a summer storm.”
My brows pinched. How could blood smell like that? Better yet, what did that even smell like?
Nyktos undid the sash of my robe. The front loosened. His breath was sharp as he parted the folds. “Fuck. The bite is deep.”
“I was hoping it was the lack of clothing you were cursing at,” I murmured.
A short, rough laugh left him. “You are…”
My eyes fluttered shut. “What?”
“Open your eyes, Sera.”
I obeyed, only because he’d asked so softly—almost like a plea. His head was bowed, only his profile to me as he carefully peeled the robe back from my shoulder, easing my left arm free of a sleeve and then my right. He cursed. “You were bit twice.”
I glanced at my shoulder, seeing the jagged tears there andthe wet streaks of blood that drenched the chest of my slip.
“Your muscles are torn in both your shoulder and arm.” His skin thinned again. “You fought your way free.”
“Yeah, I think I might need to spend some time with a Healer.” I didn’t want to think about what he saw—about what that meant for the future, no matter how short it was. Muscles didn’t always heal right, and I needed those muscles. “I hope the coronation gown isn’t sleeveless.”