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He places two fingers on her throat, waiting silently in anticipation.
“It’s okay. A little weak.”
“We need to get fluids in her system.”
He agrees with a soft grunt.
I watch the way he moves her damp curls away from her face, how his brow wrinkles together as he gazes down at her. He blows out air with an exhale that tells me he keeps holding his breath.
“You really like her,” I state.
Warrose doesn’t look up at me. He merely bows his head once.
“Has anything else happened between you two?”
The conversation I’m starting feels a little out of our comfort zone. We don’t talk about our attraction to women. Kane has discussed Skylenna, his one true love, with Warrose before when they were younger. They were far more open about their feelings than I have ever been comfortable with.
“We kissed the night before…”
My eyes fall closed. “Before Kaspias fucked us.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And it meant something to both of you?” The question sounds moronic and obvious the moment it reaches our ears.
“Yes.”
“And now?”
His eyes snap up to mine with mild aggression. “Now more than ever.”
I’m happy to hear that. Even though I’ve been snippy and cold with Ruth, I…I love her, too. She feels like the sister I never had. And watching that axe crack into her legs was enough to split pieces of my soul off and throw them into a black pit of flames.
And worst of all, I wasn’t there. I tried to break free too late. If only I figured out Kaspias’s body language immediately. But he’s the hardest person to read I have ever met, aside from Judas.
“We’re going to get her out,” I assure him evenly.
“How?”
“Skylenna needs to target Kaspias. Get inside his head. If she can get him to let his guard down, she can slip into the void. From there, if he can get us all out unnoticed, great. If not, he needs to get Skylenna out so she can bring the armies in that are probably waiting at the shoreline.”
Warrose bites his lip in thought. “He won’t be able to get us all out.”
I know.
41. The Lineage
Skylenna
“Skylenna, baby, wake up.”
My eyes feel sticky and sore as I pry them open. Warrose and Niles are looking past me. I follow the direction of their eyes to the opened cage door, flinching at the unexpected figures standing there in silence.
“Help me with the trays,” Dessin mutters in my ear.
The cooks from the kitchen hold out feeble trays with bowls and plates of food. A few more inmates behind them carry buckets of water and clean cloths.
After taking everything from their hands, they look to Ruth’s sleeping body, bow their heads, and leave.
