“May I... may I touch it?” I ask hesitantly, perching on the table beside her.
She blinks at me, eyes glittering in the lantern light. “My skin?”
I’d touch anything she wanted me to, to wash her hair and massage her tense shoulders, if it seemed like something she might want.
But I’ll settle for touching her sealskin.
Biting my tongue, I nod.
“It’s, er, strange,” I say, clearing my throat. “Talking like this.”
Because we no longer need to touch to communicate. That sense of connection between us is broken.
“It is,” she replies softly. She’s not looking at me, though. Instead, she’s staring at the tabletop and looking so damn melancholy, it feels like someone’s squeezing my chest in a vice.
“You can touch it,” she says.
I fight the urge to suck in a breath. I haven’t forgotten that the last time I touched her skin, our false bond formed.
And the last time anyone else touched it, they drained the magic from her skin.
She swallows hard. But then she nods again, dropping her skin into my lap. I run one hand over the length of it, stroking it gently, once, twice, and then I can’t seem to stop my other hand from joining in.
“It’s like velvet,” I murmur. “Not that I’ve felt much velvet before.”
Reva’s lips twitch for a second before flattening again.
“It shines in the light too,” I say, the words tripping off my tongue with no control on my part. “Beautiful.”
“Noush would be preening right now,” she replies. “She knows she’s gorgeous.”
“I can’t wait to meet her,” I say quietly, keeping my head tucked down so I can’t see her reaction to my words.
Now that I’m no longer suppressing it, my magic sits pooled just beneath my ribs, waiting for me to call on it. Keeping my eyes focused on the skin in front of me, I flick the pool as if with my fingertips and draw on a steady stream of magic. I then continue to flick my magic onto Reva’s skin.
I don’t really know what I’m doing here, looking for any spark of life, I suppose. If there’s magic still in there, I’d expect the droplets of my magic to get absorbed.
Instead, I get hit with a taste right at the back of my throat. Something thick and claggy slides down my throat, like black sludge tinged with something faintly herbal and the tang of copper.
Blood.
In an instant, I’m back there. The cold seeping into my flesh until my chest rattles and my bones ache. The constant hunger and loneliness, and misery as I’m drained of everything. Every good memory and feeling seeps out of me until there’s nothing left.
I’m stuck there in the dark, my chest growing tight as I fight to suck in a full breath. But my mouth fills with cobwebs and spiders, and they’re choking me.
The floor is so cold, my teeth are chattering. But then there’s warmth on my leg. Have I pissed myself?
Well, wouldn’t that just be wonderful? She only lets me wash once a week, if she remembers. I’ll be stuck here, marinating in filth and urine, for days.
But the warmth shifts, moving in a slow, rhythmic motion. Spiders don’t do that. Nor does piss.
It feels... it feels kind of like a hand. Like someone is stroking my knee.
I snap my eyes open and I’m back on the beach. Two hazel eyes peer into mine as a cool hand cups my jaw.
I’m safe.
Reva’s hand is on my thigh and she’s leaning so close I can feel her breath on my cheek. The scent of vanilla and oranges fills my nose, replacing the sorceress's stench. But then there’s a tingle of warmth beneath my fingertips, so subtle I almost think I’m imagining it.
