Page 54 of Promise of Darkness
"Why? Why did you come after me? You knew the trap was there, didn't you! Why sacrifice yourself for me?"
"I made a promise," he whispers, smiling through bloodied teeth. "To always protect you."
Always?A chill runs through me, one that has nothing to do with fear. "What does that mean?"
More cursed unanswered questions.
But his eyes roll back in his head, and there is no answer.
And if I don’t move swiftly, there never will be.
14
The hunting cabin is freezing.
There are wards carved into the doorframe, ancient, ancient fae glyphs I barely recognize, but I do manage to wet them with his blood. Instantly, I feel them awaken, protecting the cabin from intruders until the magic in his blood dwindles or the glyphs weaken.
I can't feel my toes in my boots, and for a hot-blooded Asturian with summer in her veins, that’s a troubling sign. Shivering, I cross to the hearth, finding a fire already laid. The current simmers in my blood, a mere spark. I grit my teeth and call fire to life, setting the tinder blazing.
Light flares, revealing a rough-hewn log cabin decorated with heavy furniture that is draped with decadent furs. Four chairs. A table. Two chests of drawers. A bed.
It will do.
Blood stains the hard slabs of muscle in the prince’s chest, and his shoulder is ravaged. He desperately needs healing. I cut his clothes from him to examine the wounds. The edges are gray and ashen with iron poisoning. Some of the smaller gashes are working to heal themselves, but sluggish blood pools around the larger, deeper wounds.
But it’s the black bruises that decorate his arms and back that worries me. They look like teeth marks, if something with a million razor-sharp teeth that size existed.
I find a clean shirt in one of the chests and bandage his wounds as best I can. The chill of his skin bothers me the most.
There’s no possible way I can lever his enormous body up onto the bed, so I drag the quilts and blankets down onto the fur in front of the fire, creating a warm cocoon.
If I can get him dry and warm, hopefully he’ll last long enough for his people to find us.
Of all the ways I expected this day to end....
“Just so you know, I’m not trying to get you naked for my sake,” I mutter. A part of me is certain his eyes will blink open again the second I have him bare to his skin. He’ll smile at me mockingly, as if to say he knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him.
Except, there is no smile.
No hint he’s even breathing beyond the faint flicker in his throat, let alone aware.
“Thiago?”
His head lolls bonelessly to the side as I release his chin.
I curse under my breath as I strip his leather breeches down his long legs. Every inch of him is bloodied and bruised with those horrible mottled suction marks, and I still can’t look at the gaping holes in his chest. It hurts too much to think of him never mocking me again.
And it shouldn’t hurt.
He’s the enemy of my people.
The prince who holds a blade to the throat of everyone I love.
A monster.
Except, he hasn’t hurt me. Not once. He’s not taken advantage of the treaty beyond a single stolen kiss each day—and if I’m being honest, I don’t hate it that much.
Iron poisoning often ends in a fever, but... had he drained himself too much in trying to defend us?Me?
