Page 46

His voice was rough when he spoke again. “Julen will be all right.”

“Yes.” She tied the bandage firmly. “Because of you.”

He huffed a quiet, humourless breath. “He’s going to hold that over me, isn’t he?”

“He already does.” Maia looked up. “Your arm,” she said quietly.

Caelith glanced down as though only now remembering it. The wraith’s claw had carved a long, shallow cut along his forearm, blood still seeping sluggishly from it.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s bleeding, too,” she replied, already reaching for another strip of linen. She took his wrist before he could protest, turning his arm into the lantern light.

When she tied the knot, her thumb brushed the inside of his wrist. Caelith went completely still. They both did.

He looked at her, eyes dark and breath uneven. The charged silence between them felt almost physical, thick enough to press against her skin.

Her hands were still on him. She felt the tremor that ran through his muscles. Heard the breath he dragged in too sharply. He looked at the window, before his eyes found hers again, darker still.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“I’m not.” She was.

“Maia.” His voice dipped, something dangerous threading through it.

He leaned toward her without meaning to. She didn’t move. All she could see was the storm-light dancing across his face.

Her fingers twitched. Then she reached, lightly brushing his hand where it hovered in the space between them. He froze, not pulling away, almost wincing as though her touch had stripped him of all the walls he’d been holding up.

A sudden sting flared behind her eyes. She blinked hard, trying not to let it spill so easily.

Caelith raised his hand, never breaking his eyes from hers. He caught the tear with his thumb.

She couldn’t look away.

He brought his hand back down to where she’d touched it, their palms meeting. She could feel the wetness of her tear still on his hand. His fingers tightened around hers as she did the same.

But as quickly as he’d held her, he let go, slowly and deliberately. As if forcing his hand to obey him.

“Maia,” he said quietly, and there was something raw beneath her name that she felt more than heard.

He leaned back, breaking the fragile closeness between them, jaw locked tight. He uncurled his fingers from hers completely. “Not like this,” he said. “Not when you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“That less than an hour ago you thought you were going to die, and I am the reason you did not. That is not the same as—” He stopped. “It is not the same.”

She opened her mouth to tell him he was wrong but found she couldn’t. Not honestly. “I-I should… Julen—”

“Yes.” Caelith’s voice had returned to something clipped, distant. “You should go.”

She hesitated at the doorway and pressed her sleeve to her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.