“I saw you touch it mere moments ago. The hob is fine.” She set the rolling pin down with a loud thud. She marched past him and smacked her hand down flat on top of the?—
She had barely finished the motion when she snatched her hand back, sucking in a hiss of pain, and Kazrian, whose hand was still resting near the hob, felt the heat emanating from it a moment later.
They both cursed out loud at the same moment, Kazrian lurching away from the oven, both hands reaching for her—“Sorry, sorry, sorry! I’m so sorry!”—guilt drenching him as he steered her swiftly to the basin. He had one hand beneath hers, the other turning the tap, wrapping around the brass spout, magic cooling the water as it spurted out.
“I’m sorry!” Her voice tight with pain.
“No! I am sorry. I should have been clearer—I should have been?—”
“Youwereclear, you—you told me not to—and then I?—”
“Hold still,” he said gently. “Keep your hand beneath the water. Stars, I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt?—”
“It is not your fault. I was angry and I was not listening and I?—”
She broke off with a sharp breath. The water ran over her fingers, cold and steady, and Kazrian kept his hand on the spout, feeding the enchantment, watching the angry red marks that striped across her fingers and her palm.
At their feet, Balthazar was pacing. Kazrian could feel the cat weaving between their legs, pressing against Lucie’s ankle, then Kazrian’s, then Lucie’s again, his body taut with agitation.
“I am all right,” Lucie told the cat. Her voice wobbled. “Truly. It is not that bad.”
Kazrian kept the water running. “A little longer,” he said quietly. “The cold needs to reach beneath the surface.”
Lucie nodded. She was blinking rapidly, fighting back tears, and he felt the guilt tighten another notch around his ribs.
He turned the tap off, then reached for the clean cloth folded on the counter beside the basin. With her hand cradled in one of his, he used the other to gently dry her fingers one by one, barely touching, terrified of pressing too hard on skin that was already raw.
“There is a burn salve,” Lucie sniffed. “Down in the?—”
“Second drawer from the bottom, yes. I used it yesterday.”
“Oh, yes, the pixie.”
“Can I add an enchantment?” His eyes rose to hers briefly. “I used it for the pixie as well. It works quickly, pairs well with the salve. I’ve used it often.”
“I …” She blinked, eyes still bright with tears. Then she nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
A brownie had already tugged the drawer open and was holding the small tin of salve up toward them. Kazrian took it gratefully. With her burned fingers loose across his, he worked a little of the salve gently over the reddened skin and let the enchantment go into it as he did, the old familiar words scarcely above a breath.
“You said you have used this magic often,” Lucie said softly. Barely a question. She was watching his hands.
“Dragon fire,” he explained. “While I was in the Shaded Lands.”
He felt her hand twitch in his. “Do you mean … like Spark? Your sister’s companion? The miniature dragon?”
“Some of them, yes.” A small laugh escaped him at the thought of the great gulf between his sister’s tiny gleaming companion and the things he meant. “Others somewhat larger.”
“Larger,” Lucie repeated faintly.
“Considerably larger.” He thought of the creatures he had no words for in this kitchen. The great wings blotting out a pastel sky, the heat coming off them in waves. Dragons he had only ever read of in stories. He wanted to tell her about them, about the first time Ryden had handed him the reins and stepped back, and the sky had opened up beneath him.
But not now. Now he was here, in this kitchen, with her hand cradled in his and the salve cooling beneath his fingertips.
“Is it helping?” he asked.
“Yes.” She let out a long, slow breath. “It is considerably better already. Thank you.” She swallowed, and when she spoke again, the tremulous edge was back in her voice. “I’m sorry. For arguing with you. You did nothing wrong, and—and none of it even has anything to do with you, and you have done nothing but work tirelessly to keep this place from falling apart around me so that I might do what I need to do, and I repay you by snapping at you?—”
“Lucie, it is fine.”
