The witch had deteriorated during the few minutes he had been gone. Her skin appeared almost waxen, and every breath had become so shallow that he was forced to watch for the movement of her chest.
The sight awakened another violent refusal inside him.
It was neither softness nor mercy, and he would not grant it the dignity of a name. He knew only that the idea of her dying there felt intolerable in a way no stranger’s death should.
Rhen crossed to the bed and gripped the edge of the mattress until the wood complained beneath his hands.
“Witch.”
Her eyes opened slightly.
“Listen to me.”
Her gaze remained fevered and unfocused.
“If you survive, you remain under guard until I know what you are and why you were sent here.”
A faint sound left her, resembling the beginning of a laugh before becoming a cough.
Rhen reached for his wrist and stopped.
Giving her his blood meant more than saving her life. It would change her body and connect her existence to his decision, regardless of whether either of them understood what the connection might become.
He lowered himself closer.
“Do you want to live?”
For several seconds, he thought she had not heard him.
Then her lips moved.
“Yes.”
The answer was barely audible, but it existed.
Rhen opened the vein in his wrist with one clean movement and brought it to her mouth.
The scent of his blood changed the atmosphere inside the room.
Her body reacted immediately, shuddering as though something beneath the fever recognized him before her mind could.
Her lips parted.
“Drink,” he ordered.
She obeyed.
Chapter 43
The witch drank without grace or restraint, pulling weakly at first before her body began to respond to the promise of survival.
Rhen watched her throat move around each swallow while a faint trace of color returned beneath the unnatural pallor of her skin. The storm remained visible in the tremors passing through her, but his blood had begun to slow the speed at which it consumed her.
“You are going to survive,” he said, forcing certainty into every word. “When you wake, you will tell me who sent you and what you know about Sule.”
Her fingers moved weakly across the sheets.
Rhen caught her hand before it fell from the mattress. His grip was firm rather than gentle, but he did not release it.
