“I do not think that is necessary,” I croaked, slowly blinking my eyes. Sloane, Rowena, Jasper, and Castor stopped theirbickering, freezing in place, as they turned to stare in my direction.
My gaze landed on Calia, who sat apart from the others at the edge of my bed, eyes red-rimmed above swollen cheeks. “Rion…” she whispered, face falling as fresh tears spilled down her face. I groaned as she launched herself toward me, burrowing her head in my neck.
She pulled back in alarm, scanning my face. “Oh my gods, I am so sorry! I didn’t—” she turned over her shoulder “—someone call Elios!”
“He’s coming,” Jasper said, dropping to the other side of my bed. “What a way to return from the dead, you dramatic bastard.” He forced a smile, but it did not diminish the fear in his eyes. “We thought we lost you.”
Calia brought a glass of water to my cracked lips, letting the cool moisture slowly trickle in. “For a moment, you did,” I said, swallowing past the pain. “How long?—”
“Three fucking days,” Rowena snapped, sitting beside Calia. Guilt pricked my conscience as I noticed the bandage on her neck. It would heal without so much as a scar since I had not used my venom, but I did not know if she could forgive me.
As I opened my mouth to apologize, she held up her hand. “We will talk about it later, but don’t think you’re forgiven just because you died.”
“But I came back,” I said, offering a weak smile. “That must count for something.”
Before she could respond, Elios strode in. Relief washed over his features as he pushed Jasper out of the way and placed his hand atop my forehead.
To his credit, my friend did not balk before strolling to Rowena’s side and draping his arms around her shoulders. She reached up and intertwined their fingers as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
I looked away, unable to untangle what had happened between them while I was gone.
Heat radiated from Elios’ palm, traveling the length of my body. Small currents of power sought my injuries, stringing together the skin and acting as a numbing agent until my natural healing abilities kicked in.
“Gods, that feels better,” I mumbled, leaning back against my pillow. Calia grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.
“It is difficult to ease a dead man’s pain,” he said quietly, continuing to treat my wounds. As he finished, he wiped his hands on the back of his trousers. “I imagine you have quite the tale to tell.”
“I do,” I said warily, taking gentle sips from the water Calia held up once more. “How much do you know?”
“Nothing,” Jasper said sharply. “Castor and his men stormed in after you collapsed. Sloane and Elios immediately tried to resuscitate you, and then Ballard?—”
“Jasper,” Rowena snapped, reaching up and smacking the side of his head. Sloane flinched at the mention of her uncle’s name and quickly excused herself. My sister followed after her, shooting daggers in Jasper’s direction.
“What happened?” I asked, looking between Calia, Castor, and Elios. I had not seen the witch in the afterlife and did not know what may have become of him in my absence.
Castor leaned against the armchair. “He’s in stable condition.”
I waited for more, but was met with silent tension as Elios and Castor stared at one another. I could not imagine the hurt between them, knowing there was a traitor amongst them since the beginning.
To dispel the lingering current of animosity, I told them what I could remember: the meeting with my father, my mother’s torture, and the truth regarding the curse.
Though I did not venture into specifics unless asked, I was thankful they did not pry into the intimate details of my conversations. I wanted to keep those for myself a little longer.
One day, I knew I would relish the opportunity to show Calia the pieces of my past that my father helped heal.
No one spoke as I finished. They settled into a stunned stupor before Castor rose suddenly, pushing to his feet and running to the window. He pulled back the curtains, staring up at the vestiges of the blood moon, before slowly unhooking the latch and swinging the bewitched panes open.
Calia tensed beside me, watching in caution and curiosity. Fresh air filtered in as Castor stood in awe of the unfiltered light shining down. He held out his hands, letting the glow wash over his skin, before turning and smiling at us.
“It is true,” he said with a choked laugh. “Calia, come here.”
She looked at me hesitantly, and I nodded. “Go,” I urged. “I want to see your face in moonlight.”
She smiled, walking to her uncle. He moved to the side as she stepped up to the window, closing her eyes as the wind softly brushed the hair from her face. It was hauntingly beautiful, the way her features softened as she inhaled her very first breath of real evening air.
“There is so much of her mother in her,” Elios murmured, watching her with equal rapture. “Some moments, I find myself struggling to understand the why of it all, but then I look at Calia and know all the pain I endured was worth it.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “It was.”
