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After a minute, I screwed up my courage and walked across to the cot. Tomas was lying on his back, highlighted by the lantern light, but I couldn’t see his chest and abdomen for all the bandages that had been wrapped around him. Someone had done a better job than my hasty efforts—he was practically a mummy from just below his nipples to the tops of his hard-muscled thighs. The bandages were all he was wearing, but I barely noticed because I caught a glimmer of dark eyes behind the slitted lids.
“Tomas!” I bent over him and felt the chill of his skin. That wasn’t good. I don’t know where the rumor started that vampires are cold. Unless they’re starving, they run as hot as a human—after all, it’s human blood that feeds them. I stripped off the blanket and tucked it around him, trying to cover as much bare skin as possible.
He smiled and tugged weakly at my hand, pulling me down beside him. There was barely room for the two of us on the narrow cot, but he insisted. “I finally have you naked and in bed, and I’m too tired to do anything about it,” he joked. I could have cried with relief.
I stroked the side of his face with my wrist, but he pulled away. He knew what I was offering, and he desperately needed it. I put my wrist back against his cheek and looked at him seriously. “Feed. You won’t heal without it.”
“You need your strength.”
“Then don’t take much, but heal. I don’t know how much time we have.” The door to the cell was heavy, but if he’d been at his usual strength, Tomas could have ripped it from its hinges. Under the circumstances, I’d settle for him being able to run or at least walk once Françoise came back. Unlike the ogre, I couldn’t carry him.
Tomas looked stubborn, but he must have reached the same conclusion I had, because the next minute I felt a brief pull at my power. It settled into a steady drain as his overtaxed system started to revive, and I sighed slightly in pleasure. The feeding process can be sensual, but this one wasn’t. It was warm and comforting,
like wrapping up in an old, cuddly blanket on a cold night. It felt familiar, too, and I suddenly remembered another reason I had to be angry with Tomas.
He’d been feeding from me surreptitiously while we roomed together, taking blood through the skin without leaving any telltale marks and with enough of a suggestion to cloud my mind. He’d said it was because he needed to keep track of me—part of his job had been to guarantee my safety and the feedings created a bond—but I still viewed it as a violation. Technically, I could have brought charges against him with the Senate, although that seemed kind of redundant at the moment. They’d happily kill him if they got their hands on him, no additional allegations needed.
He watched me, the lamplight gilding his dark lashes, and a warm languor spread through my veins. I found it increasingly difficult to be angry. After everything that had happened today, a little thing like a minor power drain seemed incredibly unimportant, and the sensation of peace and familiarity was welcome no matter what was causing it. And it wasn’t like we had another choice: if Fey blood was anything like their other fluids, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t work as vampire food. Tomas would already have fed if so, without anyone knowing.
“You’re all right?” I asked as he released me, far too soon for a full feeding. “I didn’t know if you were in a healing trance or—”
“I am far from all right, but thanks to you I’ll recover.” He sounded stronger already, which shouldn’t have surprised me. There were only a few hundred first-level masters in the world, and what they could do often seemed miraculous. “There is something about this place,” he said wonderingly. “It is as if every moment that passes is an hour of our time. I have never before healed so quickly.”
The answer to a riddle that had been bugging me for two days suddenly clicked into place. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it earlier. If Myra had been hiding in Faerie, land of the radically unpredictable timeline, then instead of having a week to heal from her injuries, she could have had months, even years. No wonder she’d looked good!
Tomas kissed the side of my head, the only thing he could reach, and looked at me somberly. “You should not have come back for me—it was a terrible risk. You must promise never to do it again.”
“I won’t have to,” I said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. It was always so beautiful, long and black and as soft as a child’s. I picked a few leaves out of it with a slightly trembling hand. I was so glad to see him alive that I felt giddy. “We’ll find some way to hide you from the Senate.”
Tomas was shaking his head before I even finished speaking. “Beautiful Cassie,” he murmured. “It has been a very long time since anyone was willing to risk themselves for me. Very few ever have. I will remember what you tried to do.”
“I told you, we’ll find somewhere for you to hide. The Senate won’t find you!”
He laughed slightly, then stopped abruptly as if it hurt. “Do you not understand? They did not find me this time. I went back to them, to him. I thought I could fight it, but I was wrong.”
I didn’t have to ask who he meant. Louis-César, on loan to the Consul from the European Senate, was Tomas’ master. He had defeated Tomas’ original master, the hated Alejandro, in a duel a century ago and then laid claim. Tomas was a first-level master, but even they vary in strength, and Louis-César simply outmatched him. He’d never been able to break the bond between them.
Tomas shuddered lightly. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel the slight tremor against me. “Every moment, I heard him, an endless voice, deep in my head driving me half mad! I could never relax, not for a moment. I knew as soon as I did, my will would break and I would go crawling back like a beaten dog. I told myself that soon the war would distract him and he would let me go. But tonight I awoke in the Senate’s holding cells, and a guard informed me that I had walked into the compound and surrendered myself. Yet I remember nothing of it, Cassie! Nothing!” He shook more violently, a visible shudder passing over his limbs. “He pulled me to him like a puppet. He will do it again.”
I was confused. “You mean he’s calling you now?”
Tomas smiled, and it was blissful. “No. There is something about Faerie—I have not heard him since we arrived. Not having to fend him off has helped me heal, now that I can use all my strength for it. I had not completely repaired lesser injuries than these in a week with his call draining me, but in this brief time my wounds are closed.”
“You can’t hear him here?”
“For the first time in a century, I am free of him,” he said, and his voice held awe, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “I have no master.” He looked at me, and there was a fierce joy in his face. “For four and a half centuries, I was someone’s slave! My master’s voice controlled me completely, until I thought I would never break free!” He stared around the dank little cell in wonder. “But here, none of our rules seem to apply.”
I felt my eyes start to burn. “Yeah, I noticed.” If our magic worked here, Mac would have wiped the floor with the Fey.
“What is it?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about it, much less talk. But suddenly everything came pouring out of me anyway. It took me less than half an hour to bring him up to speed on what had been happening since we last met. That seemed wrong somehow, that so much pain could be summed up in so few words. Not that Tomas seemed to understand.
"MacAdam was a warrior. He understood the risks. You all did.”
I looked at him bleakly. “Yes, which is why he wasn’t supposed to come with us. That was never the plan.”
Tomas shrugged. “Plans change in battle. Every warrior knows this.”
