Page 40 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
“The storm?”
“No. I just couldn’t sleep.”
He was relieved because he wasn’t tired. He was too wound up and wanted to talk. He fell back on the bed beside her, half-dressed.
“You can’t exhaust yourself,” she warned. “It was only a few nights ago that I—”
“I’m not tired,” he said. “But you’re right. I’ll be careful. I know I can’t expect you to sing me through another night of demon visits.”
She rolled over, slipping her arm across his ribs, her cheek against his arm. “Tyghan Trénallis, I would sing you through a thousand nights. I would sing you through as many nights as it took to keep you with me.”
He squeezed her hand, his fingers memorizing her touch, the softness of her skin, the feel of her knuckles beneath his thumb. Each little bump, small, but everything.A thousand nights. That’s what he wanted. That was all he wanted.
His chest grew tighter, like Dalagorn was sitting on it, and he forced himself to rise, shifting on the bed to look down at her. The single lit candle in the corner of the room had burned to a nub, barely illuminating her head on the pillow, but even in the dark, every inch of her was perfect.Tell her, Tyghan. Get it over with. He flicked his finger, lighting two more candles on the candelabra so he could see her face clearly.
“Bri, I have to talk to you.”
He tried to say it casually, but she immediately pushed herself upright. “Something’s wrong.”
“No,” he answered. “I mean, yes. But it’s not something we can’t figure out together.”
“You’re scaring me, Tyghan.” She searched his face.
“I went to Celwyth Hall today and met with the Sisters. I ordered them to ignore your message until I spoke to you. I said they had to wait at least a few more days to remove the tick, so you could really think about it.”
She pulled her hand from his. “I don’t need more time. It’s my choice—”
“Yes,” he said. “It is your choice. But you need to know all the facts. There’s something about the tick I’ve been holding back.”
She rolled off the other side of the bed and stood, her fingers raking through her hair. “Okay. Say it. Just say it.”
He circled around the bed and grabbed her hands—the hands she always kept glamoured. “Show me,” he whispered.
She released the glamour, and the sharp blue nailbeds appeared. “Does it have to do with these?”
He nodded. “Other changes have surfaced. Ones you haven’t seen.”
Confusion creased the corners of her eyes. “Where? I haven’t seen any—”
“Your back.”
She paled. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“It was just after Madame Chastain stabbed the tick on your shoulder. I didn’t know what the changes meant—I still don’t know—and you were so happy about closing the portal and—” He paused, taking a breath. “I didn’t want to worry you about something that might mean nothing.”
“But?”
“The markings have spread.”
“Markings,” she repeated, and her hand went to her middle, like she was going to be sick. “What kind of markings?”
It was better that she saw for herself. There was no way to sayscalesthat wouldn’t panic her. “Do you want to see them?”
She nodded, but as he stepped up to her floor mirror, she whirled around, her thin gown billowing out behind her. “Wait,” she said. “Not yet. I need a minute. Maybe a few minutes.” Her pupils were pinpoints even in the dim light. He could almost hear her pulse racing.
“Or a week, or as long as you need,” he said. “I don’t know what the markings mean, but I remember what you said in the throne room, about profound changes, and not wanting to turn into something else. This has to be your decision.”Something else?He silently cursed himself for his poor choice of words. But was there any good way to say it?
Her brows pulled together, her tone suddenly angry. “Why can’t they figure this out?” she asked. “It shouldn’t be that difficult. With all their magic and libraries and powerful witches and wizards, why don’t the Sisters know?”
