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“You’re burning up.”
I grunt in reply. I’ve never been very eloquent and right now I don’t think I can even manage speech.
“You should eat and drink,” the voice says. “Keep up your strength.”
I almost laugh at that. What strength? I think. What for?
But strong hands lift me to a sitting position and a spoon prods at my mouth. “Come on. It’s gruel. I’ll see if I can find some medicine for you.”
“Why?” I grunt, so curious I manage that much.
“We’ve all been at the bottom at least once in our lives,” he says cryptically and moves away, leaving the darkness to close back over me.
“Here,” someone says, “drink this.”
I choke on the bitter liquid pouring into my mouth, try to push the hand brushing over my chin away. I blink at the darkness.
The cup moves away after I shove it again. “Calm down.”
“What is this?” I gasp. “Who are you?”
“Medicine. Didn’t I say I would bring you some?”
The male voice from before… today or yesterday? Impossible to tell. I cough, the bitterness lingering on my tongue.
“Awful taste, I know.” The voice turns rueful. “But it saved my life once, when a cut got infected and nothing else helped. I’ll leave the cup here. You should finish it.”
The scrape of ceramic on stone is somewhere to my left. I turn my head that way instinctively—an old instinct formed in a time when I could still see.
“What’s your name?” When I don’t reply, he sighs. “Look, I’m placing the food here. Here. Hey, are you looking at me?”
I blink, shake my head. The darkness remains the same.
Fabric rustles. He’s getting up. “You’re blind,” he breathes.
“Very perceptive of you,” I mutter.
“You are an arrogant, sarcastic bastard, after all,” he mutters back and his steps move away. “I’ll leave you to your delicious dinner, then.”
Panic grips me and I don’t even know why. “Wait! Don’t go.”
He stops. Silence stretches. Then he says, “You should drink your medicine.”
I pat the ground to my left until my questing fingers locate the mug. I almost upturn it as I grab it. I bring it to my lips and swallow the whole thing down.
I place the empty mug in front of me, a peace offering, and take a breath.
And freeze.
That scent…
I’m not an omega, why should I care how a guy smells, but I already know I enjoy the scents of Taj and Kiaran, who are my mates as much as Ariadne is, and this man…
“Good,” he says simply and lifts the mug, another slight scrape of ceramic on stone. “Now eat.” The wooden tray scrapes more lightly against the floor when he places it in front of me.
“What for?” I whisper, still caught in his scent. “They’ll execute me.”
“That could take a while. It’s the Prince’s birthday and they are organizing a big feast.”
