Page 169 of Beneath a Shattered Sky
“Go.”
No. I take his hand in mine. “I can’t.”
I just can’t leave him suffering like this. Unwillingly, I look up at Drystan, fully expecting him to tell me that I need to get over such naïve notions of caring for a male who can’t die and focus on more important matters.
I’m so braced to deal with the scathing rebuke that when Drystan stands in a swirl of black and says, “I will take care of it,” I don’t process it.
His tone is clipped as he continues. “Bricriu is your only priority. Call the redcap back to protect you both.”
Normally, his orders make me bristle, but right now all I can feel is relief as I grasp onto his decisive leadership like a lifeline.
“Okay.” It’s the only response I can formulate before he’s gone, slamming the door between us and the rest of the world.
Leaving Bree and me alone in a room with two dead bodies and what remains of dinner.
Would eating help? Perhaps water, or vomiting, might limit the effects of whatever potion she used. A second later, I disregard that notion. Hawkith was many things, but she wasn’t stupid. That potion won’t have an antidote because she would’ve anticipated my mates demanding one.
My púca is shivering but tugging at his clothes like he’s too warm—or the fabric is irritating him. I remember that symptom of the later stages of my fever. Even the softest fabric felt abrasive.
“Bree, I want to help you,” I whisper, reaching for him, only to hesitate. “Will you let me?”
Is he even in a state to consent to this right now? He’s certainly in no position to take charge, and if I do…
Shit. I don’t want to make the trauma he’s already dealing with worse by making the wrong move. But his welfare is literally in my hands.
“Won’t hurt you,” Bree mutters, slipping fully onto his back as his forked tongue slips free. “Just lock me in a room somewhere. I won’t—” He cuts off on a groan. “Fuck.”
Reaching into my chest, I search for the excitable bond to Lore and try my hardest to channel all the fear and uncertainty I’ve experienced in the past few hours down it.
He’s there before I can blink, taking in the room with a slow growing smile. His clothes are splattered in blood, his flat cap so bright it glows in the dimness of the room.
“Regicide, pet! And I wasn’t invited?” He bends down to examine Cedwyn’s corpse, then reaches for his hat.
“Lore, forget about the blood for one second. Bree’s been dosed with something. I need to get him back to our room before it gets any worse. Then I need Kitarni.”
Perhaps she can come up with some antidote.
“No!” Bree bolts upright and grabs for me, dragging me into his lap completely. “No other females. I can’t. I won’t!”
I don’t think he really understands what we’re saying, but the visceral reaction leaves no choice but to agree.
“No other females,” I promise, running a hand over his messy hair. “Lore, please. We need to get him out of here.”
Bree can’t stay on the floor in a room full of blood and quicksilver.
Lore sighs, plops his hat onto my head, and then blinks Bree away, leaving me alone for less than a second before he returns to collect me.
When we reappear in our room, Bree is writhing on the bed, his sleeveless coat gone along with his boots. I rush to help him as he claws at the laces on his ripped trousers.
Of course, the moment I’m in touching distance, he grabs me.
“Soft,” he croons, his black tongue lending the word more sibilance than usual.
Both of his palms come to rest on my skin wherever they can, shoving my clothes out of the way.
“Ask Kitarni if she can come up with an antidote for a potion that was meant to induce a fever,” I order Lore. “And quickly.”
Because Bree is in pain, but I’m not quite certain he’s in his right mind, and that’s a boundary I don’t want to cross.
