Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“I don’t know if anyone can hear me from here. If I go to the top of the stairs—”
“No.” I draw in a ragged breath. My heart feels like it’s climbing into my throat. Calm. Stay calm. “Go up partway, but only so far that you can still see me.”
“You’re really afraid,” he murmurs.
“I need that healer. Please. Find someone to fetch a healer, but don’t leave my sight.”
Chapter Four
Jasalyn
He’s going to live. He’s going to be fine.
My hand shakes as I slowly and painstakingly stitch Kendrick’s side, keeping one eye on the needle and one on the steady rise and fall of Kendrick’s chest.
The Feegus Keep healer was confused when she was summoned to my side—not the dungeons, it turned out, but another godsforsaken section of the keep where they trap the death dogs they use for security—but she did finally arrive, and not a moment too soon.
Like the others, she was happy to do my bidding once in my presence and administered an antitoxin as well as a potion to help Kendrick heal. Once his breaths grew deeper and the color returned to his face, I plucked a thread on my goblin bracelet again. Only then did Gommid arrive, happily accepting a handful of a sentinel’s hair as payment in exchange for whisking us away to the Ironmoore infirmary.
My plan had been to take him to the Midnight Palace, but I decided it was too dangerous—for him, for me, for my sister.
I thought if I brought him here, to Ironmoore, at least he’d be around his people and I could leave him in their capable hands. But the moment I looked into the glazed eyes of the village healer, I knew I couldn’t walk away. I couldn’t take a chance that they might forget to watch him for reactions to the antitoxin once the memory of me faded.
I commanded the healer to place a sentinel outside the infirmary doors and not allow anyone through. Then, once she’d done all she could to clean his wounds and relieve his pain, I sent her away and began the tedious process of stitching him up. I’ve probably spent thousands of hours with a needle in my hand stitching fabrics of all kinds, but nothing could have prepared me for stitching up such a ragged wound. What it’s like to work around the blood. The feel of the needle piercing flesh again and again.
“Jas?”
I flinch and pause before making my next stitch. Kendrick’s fighting sleep, his ice-blue eyes doing everything they can to focus on me. “Shh,” I murmur. “You’re okay. Just rest.”
“You aren’t real. We search and search, and it’s never you.” His eyes float closed, the healing tonic pulling him under again. “Do you have any idea what I’d give up to find you?”
My heart twists painfully. You betrayed me.
But then somehow he was there when I needed him. He risked his own life to save me. And so here I am, making sure he lives through the night even without knowing if he’ll hand me over to Mordeus if given the chance.
I release the needle and thread and shake away the trembling in my hands.
“I don’t know where she is,” he says, the words so quiet I’m almost not sure I heard him right. He’s fighting sleep but can’t seem to pull from its grasp. “Help me find her. Help me save her. I have to find her before Mordeus takes over and we lose her forever.”
The words are a blade twisting in my chest. I can’t reconcile any of this with the male who lied to me. I can’t let myself forget that he worked with Mordeus. And I can’t let myself forget Mordeus’s memory of Shae and the agreement he made with Mordeus.
When the time is right, we’ll bring her to you.
A dozen times tonight, I’ve reminded myself of his friend’s promise to Mordeus, of Kendrick’s lies—about why he was in the cell across from me three years ago and about who and what he is.
I don’t want to believe he’s working for Mordeus, that he had any part in that deal his friend made, and I never would’ve doubted before his lies were revealed, but now I don’t know.
His eyes fly open and he gasps, sitting halfway up. “Jas . . . Is that really you?”
I press a palm to his chest, urging him back down before he tears open his partially stitched wound. “You need to be still.”
He settles back, lids fluttering as he trains his gaze on me. I turn to the counter and pour him another shot of the pain tonic. The healer said he needs to sleep if he’s going to recover, and I need him to sleep so I can think straight.
“Drink this,” I instruct, lifting his head and tilting the small glass to his lips.