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“I overheard . . . what was done being talked about.” I pushed against his chest, needing space— needing more air and light. He didn’t budge. Not even an inch. Whatever basic methods of defending myself I knew wouldn’t help against a Hyhborn. He held me like I was nothing more than a flailing kitten. “I was . . . I was trying to help.” I swallowed, wincing at the rawness as I lifted my hands from his chest. They shook as I held them in the small space between us. “I . . . I swear. They . . . they put Fool’s Parsley in something given to you— ”
Another growl rumbled out of him.
“I swear. I only came to help,” I whispered while my pulse thundered out of control. I no longer felt his breath against my cheek. Another moment passed and then the gas lamp flicked on, causing me to flinch. The dim glow sliced through the unnatural darkness. I blinked until my surroundings came into view.
I was staring at the Hyhborn’s chest— at the ragged hole that seeped blood and still smoked. . . .
He grabbed the back of my hood with his other hand, ripping it down. Hunks of damp hair shielded his face as he stared down at me.
Did he recognize me? That seemed improbable given that I looked nothing like I had more than a decade ago.
The Lord suddenly swayed. In the next heartbeat, he went down on his knees, taking me with him, except I landed on my ass before him. The gas lamp sputtered weakly, before staying on.
I started to scoot back, but stopped as he fell forward, onto his fists. Only the curve of his chin and one side of his lips were visible. His shoulders were moving now with rapid breaths.
“Why?” Each breath he took sounded pained. “Why would . . . you . . . help me?”
“I don’t know.” I pulled my legs away from him. “I just didn’t think what they were doing was right, and I needed to help.”
He said something too low for me to really hear. My gaze swept over what I could see of his bent body. He was breathing too hard, too fast. Concern rippled through me. “I didn’t know what condition you’d be in when I came to help.” I glanced at the red, seeping wound along his arm. He had . . . he’d pulled his limbs free from the spikes. “I removed the spike from your chest.”
There was no response.
“My lord?” I whispered, the concern growing into full-blown anxiety.
Silence.
“Are you all right?” I cringed the moment the question left my mouth. Of course he wasn’t all right. He’d just been drugged, beaten, and impaled to a table.
Biting down on my lip, I leaned forward as I lifted my hands. Carefully, I brushed the hair back from his face—
I gasped, jerking in horror. The striking lines of his face were contorted in pain. His eyes were open— at least that was what I thought, but I couldn’t be sure, because what I saw was just pink, raw, and seeping flesh where eyesshouldbe.
“They took them,” he breathed.
A frayed sort of sound choked me as I stared at him, unable to comprehend how that could be done to anyone. How someone could inflict such damage, such pain. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my own eyes stinging. “I’m so sorry— ”
“Stop,” he grunted, rocking back, out of my reach. “You have . . . nothing to apologize for if you . . . didn’t do this.”
A hole opened up in my own chest. “I’m still sorry.”
“Don’t be. They’re already growing back.” Another shudder went through him. “Regenerating.”
I lowered my hands to my lap. “That’s . . . that’s reassuring.” I swallowed, wincing at the dull ache in my throat. “I think.”
He made a sound I thought might be a laugh, but then fell silent, his breathing slowing.
I glanced at the opening to the stall. “We should— ”
“Are you hurt?” he barked.
I gave a little jump. “W-What?”
That deep, skin-chilling sound rumbled from him again. “DidIhurt you? When I grabbed you?”
“No,” I whispered.
His head tilted up, and a few strands of hair fell to the side, revealing just the height of one sharp cheekbone and one eye that no longer looked as raw and mangled. “You lie.”
