Page 55 of Immortal Game

Well, that was one thing taken care of.

Ciara’s furious eyes locked onto Shea. “Making sure the job is done, are you? You nearly drowned me!”

Wordlessly, Shea filled the glass of water again and held it out to her.

Ciara accepted it warily, still glaring at Shea over the rim, and took a sip. When she’d drained the glass, she set it on her cluttered nightstand and flopped back onto the mattress with a piteous moan. “It hurts terribly, Shea. I do not know how you bear it, the suffering that is humanity’s lot. How do you cope with your own fragility?”

Shea sighed with deep exasperation. Her fear seemed very far away now. “Do you want me to look at your shoulder?”

“Yes, I would like that, actually. You might as well see what battle scar I’ve incurred on your behalf, for which I expect no gratitude at all.”

“Thank you,” Shea gritted out. “Really. But I didn’t ask you to save me. I don’t even know how you found us.”

“I may not be the most powerful of my family,” Ciara said crossly, “but Iama faerie princess. Do you doubt I have my tricks?”

“Why?” Shea asked, with a half-strangled frustration she hardly understood. Her voice grew harsher as she picked up momentum. She’d been thinking about how strange it was for a while now, and now that she was finally venting it, finally confronting Ciara, she found she couldn’t stop. “You’ve been at it for weeks. First, you told me to decline my invitation because it was too dangerous to come here. You pulled me out of a bog. You asked me to work with you when we still hated each other. And you keep following me around and worrying about things that aren’t your business.”

“Oh, but itismy business! I never would have agreed to this bargain if I had known how determined you were to die here. It is absolutely exhausting to keep up with you, and—”

“What bargain?”

Ciara went pale but said nothing.

“What bargain?” Shea repeated, enunciating each word.

Ciara closed her eyes as if searching for an inner source of strength. She sighed heavily. “I suppose there is no use hiding it from you any longer. Your sister asked me to watch out for you. She asked me to discourage you from coming, which I really did try to do. And when I failed, she asked me to ensure you stayed out of danger. It seems she had a prophetic gift, because you have done nothing but gravitate toward dangerous situations. I would love to know how you manage it.”

“But…why?”

“Because she knows you,” Ciara replied wearily, “and that you have some sort of death-wish.”

A horrible feeling swelled within her. Shea felt she would burst from it. It was anger and exasperation and—of all things—love. Even now, Aideen was trying to save her. “She is such a fucking martyr. What did she do to get you to agree to this?”

“Ah. Well, I suppose it was more of an oath than a bargain. We do not see each other often, but she has been a friend to me.” Ciara smiled ruefully. “Do not say it. I know it’s pathetic. Princess Ciara of Bri Leith, undone by scraps of kindness. On death’s door for a mortal who can hardly stand her.”

Shea sank onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. Aideen hadn’t wanted her to come, because she knew Shea would throw herself into danger. But it was the last thing Ciara had said that Shea latched on to.

“That’s not true,” Shea murmured.

“What isn’t?” Her voice was breathy, almost hopeful.

“I don’t dislike you. Not anymore.” Shea kept her gaze fixed on the floor. “I thought maybe… I don’t know. Forget it.”

“No,” Ciara pressed. “What is it?”

Chess had been her silent companion in melancholy for so many years. She’d hardly realized just how deep the ache of loneliness went, until Ciara chased it away. Over the past few days, she’d believed that Ciaragother—and that maybe this horrible, unwanted yearning wasn’t entirely one-sided. But now, she understood that Ciara had been around out of obligation. Her sympathy was pure politeness, something to make their temporary alliance more bearable. And that almost-kiss…

Ciara had been the one to pull away. Ciara had been the one to remind Shea about the competition. God, how humiliating. Shea must’ve taken her completely off guard.

It was better this way. Better to make the cut clean.

“Nothing.” Shea forced herself to focus. “Let me see your wound before you bleed out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It probably won’t bleed out.” Ciara did not look convinced. Her gaze lingered on Shea’s neck. Her expression darkened, and the dangerous glitter in her eyes sent a little thrill through Shea. “She wounded you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Shea muttered.

“It is,” Ciara hissed. “I must demand satisfaction for—”