Page 157 of Of Stars and Lightning
“It’s best not to say.”
“Oh, you and Sol have secrets now?”
Cas sighed and shut his eyes, obviously emotionally and physically spent. A pang of guilt punched her in the stomach—he deserved some grace.
“How are your wounds? How do you feel? How’s your—” Cold alarm flared in her chest as she cut her gaze to his arm, the one that held his tattoo. It had been almost three weeks since she’d filled it in the cell.
Sawyer stood, knocking over mugs of ale in her haste as she crawled to him. “Your tattoo, it must be—” She grabbed his arm, pulling up the sleeve of his suit, readying her wielder ring against her forearm at the same time. She stopped, glancing up at him.
“It’s full.”
Cas looked past her. “It is, yes.”
“What the fuck happened between you and Sol out there,Casimir?”
Sawyer gaped at him as he stood, bringing down his sleeve as he walked to her door. “A whole lot I want to forget. I’ll be at Warren’s Temple.”
He placed his hand on the knob, turning it as Sawyer stood.
“Cas,” she said, still unsure of what to make of their meeting. “For the love of all the gods, please don’t fall in love with Sol.”
Fifty
Choices for the dead
DESPITE HOW MUCHshe begged,the healers refused to clear her. Sol had stormed after Cas, a flare of something foreign bubbling in her stomach when she saw he went with Sawyer instead, not sparing her a single look.
Look at me, she wanted to yell. I’m sorry.
Nina stayed with her in her healer pod for hours until sundown, promising her a whole week of marvelous rest and pampering starting tomorrow before they took her to Emberdon’s temple for her Awakening.
It had to be done by a blood relative, and since Sawyer was the only one, it had to be done on her turf.
The fact Sawyer was her only living blood relative burrowed in her mind long after Nina left, leaving her with a strange feeling until she finally drifted to sleep.
When Sol awoke, she was alone. The healer's quarters was silent, smelling softly of the ginger and lime tonic by her bedside. The firelights along the walls were extinguished, save for a lonely one atop the healer's main work area in a far corner. Candlewax dripped beside a mess of papers there, landing with a sizzle.
Careful not to disrupt the strange, swollen silence, Sol sat up.
Her body ached in places she didn't know could, and her temples squeezed with a plea to lie back down. But she couldn't. Not as her birthmark pulsed in warning, sending waves of heat to the edges like steel brands.
She grimaced at the pain, but it was nothing compared to the panic that gripped her by the throat as she glanced to the door.
It was ajar—the hallway beyond completely dark.
Please let this be a nightmare. Please.
She sent a silent prayer to Warren, hoping she was already in his good graces as she stood from her cot and faced the open door.
Nina had said guards would be posted outside, along with one of them. Surely, if there was trouble, they would have woken her.
Unless they couldn't.
Swallowing the acidic anxiety, Sol looked around, hoping to find something to use as a weapon.
A whimper beyond the door paused her search.
"H—Hello?" Her voice was hoarse and brittle. She inched forward, barefoot, without a weapon, and with the sinking feeling that the peace following the two weeks she'd lived had been too much to ask for.
