A complicated expression flickered across his face. “Well, now you know.”
Fuck.
Because that meant that she truly was vulnerable out here. She wasn’t casting spells but she was doing something. She did it without even trying. What if it happened that way to some people and the Church didn’t make a distinction? The rot she felt in the woods could seep inside her mind and her body, poisoning her like it’d done to the trees and those men, to the poor mother who’d murdered her children. Where was the line? Did reaching out to the trees count as opening a door? Did spilling blood?
The icy churn in her stomach rose to her bruised throat. She swallowed it down. She jolted to her feet, letting the blanket fall to the ground. She was just getting it dirty anyway. She fumbled at the buttons of her jacket. One of them came loose and she swore, tearing at it in the end.
The captain stood slowly. “Rowan?”
She shook her head sharply as she pulled off the disgusting thing. The arms were still damp. There was a blotch of something at her hip. Cold air slapped at her skin. She didn’t care.
“Rowan.” His voice was sharper.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
The stream wasn’t far.
She’d only taken two steps away from the fire when the witch hunter’s hand closed around her arm. “Where are you going?”
“My coat is dirty. I’ll have to soak the whole thing. Don’t worry. It’s not thick. If I wring it out, it will be dry enough by morning.”
“No, it won’t,” he said softly. “It will still be wet, and you’ll be freezing.”
“I’ll put it by the fire.” She stared down at where his hand was wrapped around her arm, holding her in place. She frowned. Her shirt was just as bad. She’d thought the jacket had shielded it. But no. The blood was easier to see on the shirt because the fabric was a lighter color. It wasn’t white like the captain’s shirt, more an indeterminate faded sort of gray. It was already stained, but the blood was so dark…
“Come on.” Casrian tugged at her arm. “It’s been a long day and it’ll be a short night. You rest. I’ll watch. You can have my jacket.”
She looked up at him. “Your jacket probably has more blood on it than mine does.”
“Likely,” he admitted. “The laundry services for the guard are remarkable, but they can’t get everything out.”
He tried again to draw her back to the fire, but she held her ground. “I can’t. I can’t sleep in this. How can you kill a man and fall asleep covered in his blood?”
“Just breathe, Rowan. It will be all right. This will pass, I promise you.”
She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was locked up tight. There was a restlessness under her skin. A coldness spreading from the pit of her stomach. The last thing she wanted to do right now was close her eyes.
“You go to sleep if you can do it,” she said. “I just need to do this.”
She tugged her arm free and he let her go. Turning away, she put her jacket on the ground and jerked at the tie closing neck of her shirt. She pulled it over her head and stared down. Good.
Good.
Her undershirt was fine. It was gray and shabby, but she didn’t see any blood.
“Do you have a spare shirt? My other one is still wet from the rain.”
She glanced up and stopped. The witch hunter was standing there frozen, a strange expression on his face. He drew in a ragged breath.
“If you don’t, it’s fine. The shirt will dry faster than the coat.”
His gaze drifted down her neck, past the curve of her shoulder, to linger on her breasts. Her undershirt was thin and he could probably see too much. Her nipples were almost painfully tight in the cold air, but there was nothing she could do about that. He didn’t need to look so unhappy. It wasn’t something she was doing on purpose.
“Rowan,” he said more firmly. “You’re not doing laundry right now. You need to sleep.”
“After I take care of this.”
She bent and grabbed her jacket off the ground. She opened her mouth to say she’d be back in a minute, but the words died on her lips. Casrian moved so fast she didn’t have time to react. One arm slipped around her back. One swept under her thighs. And he scooped her right off the ground. She tried to twist out of his grasp, but his arms were like iron bands. They didn’t budge as she fought him.
