Page 125 of The Legacy of Ophelia
I shook my head. He shouldn’t come near me. No one should, not after the things I’d done beneath the god’s hand. Anger and guilt and desperation coursed through me, each pounding in time with my pulse. My own war drum that had my wings beating along with it, soft thuds against the sand.
But Tolek dropped to the ground before me, not hesitating to pull me into his lap. Not hesitating to press soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, as furious golden tears dripped from my eyes, falling to the sand in gleaming puddles.
Because in all our years, Tolek Vincienzo had never let me break alone.
“I’m sorry,apeagna,” Tol whispered again and again. “I’m here for you. None of us are going anywhere.”
And it wasn’t until he said that last sentence that I lifted my head and glanced beyond him. Jezebel had crouched next to us,brushing my hair back from my face, but…everyone was here. Malakai and Cypherion. Mila, Vale, and Erista. Even Mora, the fae’s eyes dim with a brutal sympathy that said she understood to some extent how I was feeling.
I met Malakai’s stare as I scanned them all, and a staggered beat of comfort echoed in the hollow Bind. I tried to send gratitude back, followed by a wave of sworn vengeance. He rubbed his chest, nodding as if he felt it.
A sob cracked up my ravaged throat, and I folded myself back into Tolek’s embrace.
And there, with my family protecting me, I let myself shatter beneath the weight of everything I’d been forced to do and become.
Then, with Tol whispering sweet promises of revenge against my skin, I sealed those fissures with seraph magic and forged the person Echnid wanted to turn me into.
But instead of standing by his side, I would make the god bow atmyfeet.
Chapter Forty-Six
Santorina
The worry knottingmy fingers in my apron was becoming more aggravating by the minute.
Lancaster slept off and on for a couple days after the attack on the human camp, only waking to retch occasionally and take small sips of water. His fae body was dispelling the toxins quickly, but it didn’t escape me that in order for him to be struck so badly—leaving his skin pale and sticky with sweat from fever—it had to be powerful poison.
The male had told me once that fae didn’t experience common illnesses. Their bodies were too powerful, healing too instant.
Why then was he now…like this?
I swore, pushing up from my chair beside his bed and crossing to the small kitchenette to organize my already-clean supplies. My eyes were dry and heavy, exhaustion begging me to settle for even an hour, but I couldn’t. Every time I tried, the shredding sensation of a head being ripped from a body tore through me. The warm splatter of blood splashed across my features.
Lancaster’s low groan as he collapsed before me echoed, and something in my chest rioted in alarm.
It was annoying, the thrumming instinct becoming a kicking, pounding against my ribcage again like a prisoner’s fists trying to break through the bars. It rattled my thoughts, made the jars before me shake and blur, and a part of me wondered?—
A groan reverberated behind me, and I spun, a bin in my hand before I even realized I was grabbing it. I sank beside the bed, but Lancaster didn’t retch. He blinked his eyes open slowly this time, dark irises alert despite the shadows framing them. When that deep, searching stare landed on me, he sighed.
“Bounty.”
I couldn’t tell if it was relief or vexation in that tone. Perhaps the two were entwined, and he was happy to be able to speak but irritated that I was the one helping him yet again.
“How do you feel?” I asked hesitantly, setting the basin aside and sitting back in my chair. The scratchy material was warm from the hours I’d been planted here. Watching over him, sorting supplies, writing to Ophelia.
I pulled the seat closer, brushing a hand across his brow. Lancaster inhaled at the touch, his throat working over a swallow. His skin glistened with sweat, muscles taut in his bare shoulders, and his stare snagged mine. Goddess, I couldn’t read those emotions.
“I am better,” he announced, but the words were still tired. I jolted at his voice, removing my hand from his forehead.
“Your fever feels like it’s gone,” I agreed, clearing my throat.
“I have never had a fever before,” he said almost curiously.
I laughed. “I think it was the thing’s blood that did it.”
“I figured as much,” Lancaster said solemnly. His blinks were heavy, but he held my stare despite the clear need to rest, as if refusing to look away. And those words seemed very intentional. How could he know that? He’d been asleep while I passedletters back and forth with Ophelia. He didn’t know what she’d explained to me about gorgons and their wretched, poisonous blood.
“What do you mean?” My jittering stilled now that he was awake and speaking. I leaned back in my chair.
