Page 70 of Synodic

“Of course, but only for the joy of rubbing it in thatIsavedyou.” I smiled at him and handed him another section of moss.

“I’ve never had a problem with you saving me,” he said evenly, and though he was slightly more coherent, his dilated eyes ensnared mine. “I didn’t know I still had a soul until the moment I saw you, Keira. This isn’t your first time saving me.”

His words heated my skin and seared my blood, but I had no way of knowing if it was him or the fever talking.

Seeming to remember where we were, his eyes darted around the cavern. “Where’s my blade?”

“Near the entrance.”

“Grab it. I don’t know what I’ll do. What I’ll see. You may need to use it…” he swallowed thickly, fighting to stay awake, fighting to warn me of what could happen, “…on me.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I wish that were true, but I see myself hurting you every day, and I hate mys…” The words barely escaped his lips as what little energy he had left vanished. Exhaustion overcame him, and he slumped back, closing his eyes.

I knew Rowen would never hurt me, but that didn’t stop me from trying to decode his cryptic last words.

As he slept, my eyes roved over his bare skin, truly taking in the lean cuts of his abs and molded chest, noticing his two necklaces—one of earthy gems, the other pure metal.

It was strange seeing this strong and lethal man so vulnerable. So still. He was more fragile than he looked, and I cringed every time my gaze passed over a scar. They were all over him, scattered like markers on a map of torture.

There was an especially nasty-looking one on his left pec, fully healed but puckered and raised.

These must have been the wounds Takoda had healed, slowly bringing Rowen back to life after he found him dying in the woods.

The thought of someone inflicting these injuries on him made my blood boil, and my fists curled in rage.

As for his current ailments, I had done everything within my power to help him. Now all I could do was wait. Wait for the remedy to silently work its way through his body and heal him.

I touched my hand to his forehead. He was still so hot, and I bit at my lip, feeling helpless. At least it appeared he was sleeping soundly, though I had no way of knowing if horrible images haunted his dreams.

The sun had completely set while the storm continued to rage, battering the trees and cave walls like a tempestuous lullaby. The air grew cold, and I looked to Rowen, unconscious and barely breathing. We wouldn’t make it through the night with our wet clothes and hair and no blankets or warmth.

I would need to start a fire.

Luckily Quiya and Nyvari had taught me how back in the village. Had they not, we would be so screwed right now. I silently thanked the sisters again for their quiet patience and calm tutelage. It had taken me over an hour to finally catch a flame with them, hopefully I’d be faster now that our lives depended on it.

I collected the fallen branches, twigs, and dried tree needles that had made their way into the cave, saved from the downpour outside. I also found a rock similar to the flintstone the sisters had shown me.

I scraped the blade of Rowen’s ax over and over against the flint. The life-saving act was taking longer than expected and I cursed several times, but once the spark caught the tinder and I fed the flames with my breath, it blossomed into a meager fire. I was so proud of myself that I let out a victory squeal. I glanced to Rowen, expecting to see him looking at me with an impressed expression on his face, but he remained still and sleeping.

Tending to the fire, it flourished steadily, but I still shivered as a cold draft swept through the cave. I would never warm up with my damp clothes and hair clinging to my body.

I stood up, shimmied out of my wet leggings, and placed them on a rock near the fire to dry. I contemplated taking off Rowen’s pants but decided against it, they were nearly dry anyway. Plus, I didn’t want to jar him awake in case it brought on a hallucination. Luckily, it seemed like he hadn’t suffered from one yet. Maybe he wouldn’t altogether.

I could only hope.

Attempting to keep from going mad with worry, I sat and stared at the leaping flames in my underwear and vest, my knees pulled up under my chin and my hands wrapped around my shins. Letting my thoughts wander, I couldn’t help but think how much my life had changed in a matter of weeks. If someone would have told me I’d be tending a fire for a wounded half-naked man in a cave, I would have handed them my parents’ business card, imploring them to seek psychological evaluation.

I thought about my parents and how they must have reacted to my unaccounted-for body. Was I considered a missing person, or had my parents gone through the trouble of arranging a funeral? Either way, I’m sure they were disappointed at the loss of their key subject and the derailing of their groundbreaking case study.

The memories hurt more than I cared to admit and I was still in disbelief that they were real. I couldn’t fully comprehend it, like shadowed memories from a dream.

It seemed that no matter where I was, I couldn’t get a grasp on reality.

My thoughts wandered to Natalie. How had she been able to drug me for so long without me ever finding out? I felt so stupid for letting her into my life. Especially when I knew to keep people at arm’s length. But I had allowed her to sneak in and take root in my heart. I wanted to believe someone could love me for who I was. Astral traveling and all.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Natalie had found a new roommate. Now that my mother was no longer paying her, had she moved out? An unpaid intern could only survive so long without a salary.

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