Page 162

Jarek believed her, but his rage remained. He imagined it would last until Caiven’s marks on her skin disappeared, so he tucked it away, letting it mingle with the influx of every other worry that was buzzing through his body. Her blush swept over her nose, and Jarek realized he was still touching her. His gaze drifted to her mouth.

It wouldn’t take much to guide her lips to his—to do something with the heat that was coursing through him.

“Sir?”

Jarek’s eyes shot open to Croll behind Lilith at the edge of the wagon’s opening. Jarek yanked his hand away, wondering how much he’d seen.

“I told her it would be ideal to leave you be,” Croll said under a glare.

“He had to come out eventually,” Lilith retorted.

“You woke him too early.”

“Didn’t you hear? I woke him too late.”

Evidently, he’d been there the whole time. Jarek cleared his throat. “Croll. Don’t insinuate,” he began with a stern tone until Lilith nudged him, “that I don’t take your concern to heart. Are you… well?”

Croll deepened his frown, switching to Retian. “It’s cold. Let’s move this along.”

He jumped off the wagon. Lilith grumbled at it rocking, scooting away while Jarek stared at the exit, astonished.

“He just gave me a demand.”

“Must be the lack of sleep because he’s been extremely tolerant of me. He’ll return to normal come morning.” Lilith’s voice fell quiet when he turned back to her. “It’s nothing a little ice won’t fix.”

Jarek tore his gaze away from her neck. “Ice, yes…”

Lilith’s eyes shifted, and she quickly followed after Croll. Cursing himself to no end, he moved to the opening, finding them both anxiously hovering. He waved away their worries.

Lilith frowned and offered a hand. “I really think you should—”

He ignored her, and his legs ignored him. He promptly fell flat on his face hopping down from the ledge.

“For fuck’s sake,” he hissed.

“You still need to rest,” Croll said.

“I’ve had two bloody days of it! How much more do I need?”

“It’s your arm, we think.” Lilith grabbed under his right one to help him stand. “Anyone else would have an infection by now, so count Dabria’s blessings the Serpent is combating it. I’ve done what I can, but the wound needs to be closed, or it won’t heal properly.”

Jarek muttered grievances under his breath, legs heavy and straining under the weight of his body.

Ahead of them was a manor. Not as intricate and massive as Caiven’s estate, but quainter. Two story’s high, the building was constructed with a cream plaster, deep brown wooden trim, and pitched roofs. Surrounded by walls of perfectly edged bushes and tall oak trees, it was elegant. A sign above the door read Twilight Terrace Tea. Behind them, an iron gate was shut and locked, leaving Croll and Lilith’s horses hitched to the wagon in front of the open doorway.

As they approached, a thin, older woman with sharp cheekbones and sandy blond hair piled high atop her head stepped halfway down the stairs, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders.

“What’s going on? I heard shouting.”

“What are you doing?” Lilith abandoned Jarek to take a hurried step toward her. “Shit. Sorry.”

Jarek stumbled, and both she and Croll caught him. He righted his footing, and Lilith carefully turned back to the woman.

“You’re supposed to be watching Aarin.”

The woman shrugged. “He’s out.”

“Out?”