Page 137 of Cursed Shadows 4

My gulps are quick to turn harsh and gaspy—loud enough to stir Daxeel at my side. I feel him tense against me, but before I can pull my mouth from the waterskin, before I can turn to look at him, darkness steals me again.

I dream of Daxeel’s ocean eyes misted with pain.

I dream of him standing over Aleana, whose lips are painted blue, and Caius, whose limbs are broken and twisted.

I dream of Daxeel’s pain…

And I wonder if he dreams of it, too.

††††††

The cave is quiet the next time I stir, but the black powder is quieter. Strength returns to the twitch of my fingers and the flex of my toes.

I swerve my gaze around where the fire once burned. Now, embers are all that gleams from the stone-circle. Embers and ash.

No Rune, no Dare, no Samick.

I wonder if they stand guard outside or they are fast asleep somewhere in the darker parts of the cave.

Daxeel is still with me.

Arm hooked around my middle, he holds me to him, his mouth now at the shell of my ear.

The constraint of his gentle breaths tells me that he’s awake. Did he wake with me? Did he wake before, and kept holding me?

That wretched familiar ache blooms in my chest.

I swallow, thick.

Daxeel’s grip on my side tightens, something of a reassuring squeeze. “You will be well soon,” he tells me, and the soft raspiness of his gravelled accent is a tickle against my ear.

I lean into it.

The flesh of my cheek runs over the tip of his nose.

He tugs his head back a touch before he firms his grip on me, then pulls me onto my side until my temple is rested on his solid bicep.

Bodies pressed together, he holds me to him.

He watches me with gentle eyes.

“You almost look relieved,” I manage a faint voice, a murmur conjured from the scraps of strength that bloom in my bones.

He blinks those long lashes over tired eyes. Sincere eyes. “I am.”

I missed you.

I love you.

Love me, please, love me.

Truths I do not speak, but truths that dance on the tip of my tongue, begging to be released.

They can never be released again.

Even in the fog of black powder, I know that the sincerity of Daxeel’s relief that I am well and alive, is not out of love.

I am the surviving sacrifice.

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