She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, clearing her vision, then rubbed the ruby still embedded at the base of her throat. As firmly attached as ever. Not even the slightest wobble.
Why had Penelope ceased feeding from her during today’s battle then? And why hadn’t the queen fed since its end?
An unexpected motion caught Blythe’s attention. Wings fluttering, she spun, ready to defend herself against—Roux! He tottered on his feet only a few feet away.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded, staggered by his deplorable condition. Not just pale but ashen. Shaky. “What happened?”
Clutching his head, he collapsed to his knees.
Stomach churning, she rushed over to crouch beside him. Was the Phoenix responsible?She dies first!“Talk to me, Roux.” She checked his pulse. Thready. “Tell me what I’m dealing with here.”
“Wraiths fed...screams started...won’t stop.” He would have toppled the rest of the way if she hadn’t caught him and eased him to the floor. “Can’t make them stop, can’t make them stop,” he chanted, thrashing.
The wraiths had fed on him? No, no way Penelope’s crew had managed to overpower an Astra in his prime. A male who’d battled countless armies of phantoms for eons. Plus, there were no jewels adhered to his body. Not that Blythe could see, anyway.
Ignoring her own shakiness, she ripped his shirt down the middle. The material fell away, revealing movingalevala. Images jumping from one place to another, again and again, faster than a blink.
Her heart jumped in unison. She scanned him as quickly as possible to avoid getting trapped. Nope. No jewels. Meaning, he hadn’t been overpowered. There were no open wounds, either. The wraiths must have...what? Gotten his permission?
No way. He must have...but he wouldn’t...unless he would. She gasped again. He had given them permission, hadn’t he? He’d let them feed on him. He must have bargained with Miss Murder to save Blythe’s life. No wonder Penelope had stopped feeding during the battle.
A gesture Roux might have made for his Commander. But maybe, possibly, he’d done it for Blythe as well?
She gulped, something akin to tenderness flowing through her. A river newly released from a dam, eroding shores made of pain and grief. Her tremors worsened as she cupped his jawline to lift his head and study his face. His eyes remained closed.
“Flash to the bed, Astra.” The hard floor wasn’t comfortable. Especially for a man of his size, who hadn’t stopped flailing about. “I’ll follow you there, I promise.”
“The screams. Make them stop,” he repeated, as if he didn’t hear her. Maybe he didn’t. He gripped and yanked at hanks of his hair.
Did he speak of the same screams she’d heard when she’d ghosted inside his spirit? If so... She shuddered, remembering the horrifying chorus, and how it had driven her mad in only a matter of seconds.
Not knowing what else to do, she smoothed her fingertips over his brow. His cheeks. “I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”
Um. She would? There would be no better time to visit Wraith Island, reclaim her firstone dagger, then come back here to hack off his head. Or just hack off his head with a regular blade and discover whether his ability to recover from such a devastating wound was as developed as hers.
No. Absolutely not. He’d taken Laban out in battle. How could Blythe do any less with Roux? Sparing him now had nothing to do with his offer to fuel the wraiths and preserve her strength.
To her surprise, the Astra calmed somewhat as she caressed him. Heart thudding, she continued cooing and stroking, doing her best to disregard the soft, smooth texture of his skin.
“Yes,” she rasped. “I’ll keep you safe. For now.”
When he leaned into her touch, instinctively deepening the contact, a barbed lump grew in her throat. How could this male who’d known nothing but cruelty for the bulk of his life seek more of her? The ruthless harphantom who’d been nothing but, yep, cruel to him.
Whoa. Hold up. Was she vacillating between regret and sympathy for Laban’s killer right now?
Okay. Time to remind herself of Roux’s callous side. So. Screw it. There was no better opportunity to do what was needed than to experience one—or two or twenty—of his past blessing tasks. If she experienced pain while witnessing it, so what? If she died like the shifter, she died. Again, so what? She would come back. This way, at least, she’d know her own reaction to the tattoos.
What had he been forced to do in the past, anyway? To Blythe’s knowledge, none of the other Astra had ever spoken of his former deeds. And Roux himself had been super adamant that she never, ever look at hisalevala...
What didn’t he want her to see? And when had she started taking orders from her enemy? Or a maybe enemy.
Maybe?
She huffed out a breath. Hewas.
Curiosity riding high, Blythe did it. She slid her gaze to his chest. Inhale. Exhale. The pictures continued to jump, shifting too swiftly to lock onto. Hmm. Each of the marks seemed to be a different version of Roux. Even pieces of him. There. His eyes, flickering with sparks of red. There. His lips, opening wide to unleash a bellow. There. His hand, clenching tight.
Rather than chase a single image, she stared hard at the spot just over his heart. Finally! A connection snapped into place when those inked eyes appeared, meeting her gaze. Impact jolted her, air gushing from parted lips.