Page 715 of Coal Hearts

I sighed heavily as the chain tinkled behind me, connecting to my collar, keeping me firmly locked on this side of the cell. I could reach the toilet too—with an age of shuffling and blackspots dancing on my vision—but I couldn’t reach them.

Couldn’t touch her.

Hug her.

We’d tried.

On the first day I’d had the strength to fall out of bed, I’d crawled toward her. My eyes stung with the need to feel her. My heart felt like it would explode if I didn’t kiss her.

She’d dashed toward me.

Peter had shook his head sadly.

And we’d both jerked to a stop, just centimetres from touching.

A few lousy millimetres.

That was all that blocked us from comforting one another. Caressing and loving, sharing body heat and love in a place so full of hate.

“Henri...”

I forced a smile and looked at the love of my life. “I’m okay, mon cœur. I’m up.”

She let out a heavy sigh. “I was so worried. You wouldn’t wake, no matter how much noise I made.”

“I was asleep. Healing is exhausting work.” I attempted a smirk. “But I’m getting better. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She hugged herself, her body wracked with trembles. “You were speaking to us, but then your words grew all scrambled.” Flicking a look at Peter, she whispered, “You passed out and...”

“Ily.” I licked my dry, cracked lips. “I’m okay—”

“I’m terrified you’re dying right in front of me.”

“I’m fine.” I sat as tall as I could, ignoring the fiery agony cutting through me in every direction. “See? Nothing to fret about.”

Peter gave me a narrowed look as if he could see every single one of my lies.

I gave him a pointed one back.

I couldn’t be the one to comfort Ily while healing and shackled so far away.

For now, that was his job.

And he’s failing.

Ily shivered and rubbed her arms. The floaty white dress she’d worn for the Halloween masquerade—the same dress I’d flipped over her back when I’d taken her from behind before our night ended in the Temple of Facets—was now grey with grime.

Peter’s linen trousers matched the same dirty colour; his bare chest streaked with dirt. His blanket rested over his shoulders. His already lean body shadowed with the lines of his ribs the longer we were kept down here.

We all shivered constantly, but...it fucking hurt to see Ily trembling.

“Paavak.” My voice came out rusty and almost cold. “She’s shaking. Do something about it.”

Without a word, Peter left his cot and joined Ily on hers. Draping his blanket over her shoulders, he cradled her close and kissed her temple. She welcomed his body heat, but her eyes never left mine.

And I never looked away despite exhaustion tugging at my eyelashes.

Their two beds touched each other at the top, their thin pillows close enough that their matching black hair blended while sleeping.