Page 89 of Heimlock

We stare at one another. My mouth twitches. Her eyes narrow. Then we burst out into laughter. The tension shatters.

The pair of underwear hangs from my finger. “This is not my first damsel in distress situation, you know.”

Kyrielle grins, all of the tension melting out of her. “Am I the only damsel you have to continue saving?”

I crouch, motioning for her to slide a foot into one side of the underwear. “You’re the only distressed damsel I want to save, Kyrielle.”

It takes enormous effort to ignore the way my body wants to respond to her nakedness. Instead, I help her put them on, then into the pants. I’m concerned she’s going to be cold without a top on, but it’s something I’ll figure out once we have food in her belly.

Once she’s as dressed as possible, I put my hands on my hips and take stock of the situation. I’ll be sleeping on the floor, since there’s no couch. That’s fine — I spent years sleeping on the floor. Doing it for her will be easy enough.

But I need a change of clothes; we need food and other supplies.

Looking at her, I ask, “Can you give me a couple of hours to grab things we need for the next few days?”

“It’s fine,” she says quickly. “Thank you for helping, but I can handle—”

“Shut your pretty mouth.”

She rears back like I’ve slapped her. “What?”

Glaring, I say, “I said shut your pretty mouth. Don’t waste energy trying to convince me to not take care of you when you can’t even brush your hair without help. You’re going to let me take care of you because you need it. I need a couple of hours to grab things, and then I’ll come back to cook you dinner.” When she raises an eyebrow, I add flatly, “With non-expired food.”

This earns a smile and an eyeroll. “Fine. I suppose I’ll survive for a couple of hours.”

Pleased, I say, “Good.” Impulsively, I kiss the top of her head. It’s chaste and quick, leaving the smell of her shampoo on my lips.

“Be right back, Firefly.”

35

Iwas born.

Trinte’s words are on repeat in my mind while I wait for him to return. His father blamed him for killing his mother in childbirth? What kind of monster does that? What kind of monster starves his son?

The more I learn about Trinte, the more I ache for what he’s lost and experienced. When Fynn told me I’d have to sit in graves, he wasn’t kidding. I look around this pathetic excuse for an apartment and realize I already sit in a grave. This entire space is a shrine to my trauma. Why? I’m not only physically capable, but magyckly as well. What can this baseball bat do that my spears of fire can’t?

But it’s all a hold-over from being younger; a skin yet fully shed.

While I wait for him to return, I text Orliana. She’s already sent two texts.

Orliana: Did you get home safely?

Orliana: I know Trinte is trustworthy, but are you sure you're comfortable? I know things have been weird with you two.

Kyrielle: I’m home. Showering was an ordeal.

Orliana: I’ve been so worried. Are you okay? How did you shower with one hand?

Kyrielle: I’m fine. In pain, but it’ll heal soon enough. And I didn’t … Trinte helped me.

Orliana: Trinte helped you shower????????????

Kyrielle: Yeah, but he was REALLY respectful about it.

Orliana: I have no doubt. Can I call?

Instead of responding, I call her. She answers on the first ring. “Hey, you.”