Heart hammering with a feeble, hopeful beat, I tilt my head to the side. “Do?”
He leans forward, an intensity burning in his stare. “How can Ihelp?”
A surge of relief impales me, a sudden alertness clearing some of the fog from my brain.
He wants tohelp me.
I dash a tear off my cheek, sniffling. “Do you … Do you happen to know where the High Master’s fleet is stationed?”
Kolden frowns, then gives me a tight nod that would bring me to my knees if I weren’t already sitting.
My throat works, prickles bursting against the backs of my eyes as I release a shuddered breath, feeling the tides swirl around me, turning …
Finally fuckingturning.
“The—ah—urn over there,” I say, raising a trembling hand to point at it. “There’s some bits of parchment and a stick of sharpened coal stashed inside.”
He stands and walks to the urn, lifting the lid and reaching in. I close my eyes and breathe, trying to stop the room from swaying.
It’s going to be okay.
Kolden passes me a piece of parchment, and I flatten it against my thigh, then scratch a jittery note upon the surface—difficult with a shaking hand.
Signing the paper, I hand it to him. “Please take this to the mail tree and ask that it be sent to Cindra at Graves Inn. If you’d scribble your own instructions on how to find the fleet, that would be greatly appreciated.”
I pause when I see the tiny crystal bloom sitting in his palm. The imperfect one with a few jagged petals from where I cracked them off.
Heart tumbling, my hand becomes still as I lift my eyes, looking at him. “I found it at the markets,” I whisper.
The hard glint in his stare tells me he doesn’t believe me before he even speaks. “If one of the Elders were to come across that—”
“I’ll get rid of it.” The words come out harsher than I intend them to, sown with a frantic seed.
His jaw hardens, and he regards me with intense focus. With another curt nod, he sets it in my palm, curls my fingers around it, then takes the parchment and makes for the door, easing it shut behind him with quiet finality.
My pulse roars in my ears, my tremble returning twofold—so rampant that when I push to my feet I almost crumple to the floor again. I make for the wall and lean against it, choking back the smell of smoke, citrus, and salt dousing my hair. My skin.
This fucking dress.
Groaning, I rip at the strips of material barely holding me together, feeling them tear beneath my jittery fingers as I stumble toward my washroom. I don’t bother to turn the dial on the mounted lantern, opting instead for the comfort of the silver light spilling through the frosted windows.
I place my bloom on the ground and crank the faucet, then step beneath the spill of water that pours from the cleft in the wall, gasping at the rushing torrent of chill that drenches me from head to toe. Cupping my hands before my mouth, I draw deep, gulping drags that surge straight down my arid throat—shoving back images of Cainon’s mouth on me. Of his teeth tearing at my already shredded flesh, making the same thick sound every time he swallowed.
You bleed so beautifully for me …
My body surrenders to the weight on my shoulders, and I crumble to the floor, hand slamming down to absorb the force. I screw up my face and release a silent scream that morphs into chest-wrenching sobs.
There’s still so much that needs to fall into place, and with this fresh throb in my neck, with the smell of scorched flesh sitting in the back of my nose like a thick smog, I feel hopeless.
Drained.
I can’t afford to feel either of those things.
I blindly slap at the wall and turn the faucet to warm, snatch a bar of pumice-infused soap, and scrub myself—the warm water unlocking the complexities of the citrus-scented bar and making me want to gag.
Time slips by as I scrub harder than I ever have, the bar turning paper thin, disintegrating against my chafed skin.
I rest my head upon the wall, water puddling in my lap, and stare blankly ahead, my vision of the washroom distorted by the flowing wall that makes me think of Kai. How everything felt lighter with him around. How he would flash me one of his mischievous grins I couldn’t help but mimic and my worries would sift away.
