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Breathe in. Don’t cry, Galantia.
Breathe out. Don’t cry, Galantia.
“I shall get your tears in time.” Once the damage was done—my chest nothing but a ball of fire—he yanked me to my wobbly legs by my bodice, and pressed his mouth to my ear where he whispered, “Run…”
His command came with a blast of plumes and shadows. Wings flapped, and the shudderingkra-krasof ravens resonated in my skull. Claws tangled in my hair, pulling and ripping, sending a wave of burning heat across my scalp. Something hard hit my skull.Tap.And again.Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
They were pecking at me!
Pain stabbed into my brain, ripping a scream from me just as I threw my arms over my head. “Get away from me!”
I swatted with one hand while trying to protect myself with the other. Fabric ripped. Heat spread along my arm, burning deep into my flesh. With another scream, I ran toward the door and slinked through the gap. Away. I had to get away from these animals.
Gurgling croaks followed as I sprinted along the corridor, letting bone-deep terror overwhelm my senses as I passed doors, people, flickering fires that danced over the stone walls. Where was I? Where should I run?
Wingbeats.
Close. Closer still.
My feet thrust me forward faster as I turned a corner, dashing along yet another corridor until—slap!Pain slammed into my torso, radiating toward my limbs as my legs pulled out from underneath me.
“Whoa!” A set of strong arms wrapped around me, steadying me against a leather-clad chest. “You’re bleeding…”
I blinked, disoriented, searching for the source of the familiar voice, only to find a set of green eyes staring down at me. “Sebian.”
“Shh… it’s alright, sweetheart.” He slid an arm down the back of my thighs before he lifted me up. “I’ve got you.”
ChapterEight
Galantia
Present day, Deepmarsh Castle, Sebian’s chamber
Clay mug clasped between my shaky hands, a small piece of what appeared to be tree bark floated on the shuddering surface of my tea.To calm my nerves,Sebian had said after he’d carried me to his chamber, sat me into an armchair beneath the window, and handed me the warm mug.
He pulled on the rust-speckled buckles of his brown cuirass where he stood beside his four-poster bed, opening them. “Make sure you drink all of it, or the pain will only get worse from here.”
With each additional sip, the burning aches seemed to dull, and my nerves right along with it. My gaze wandered about my new surroundings—a chamber very similar to mine, aside from how dozens of small clay pots lined an open armoire. It smelled like herbs in here, beeswax, and leather.
Like him.
A warning roil shifted in my guts, subdued by whatever I was drinking. In my shock, I hadn’t quite cared where Sebian had taken me, so as long as it was away from Malyrs’ ravens. Should I even be here? Alone? With a man?
No, worse…
A Raven.
Sebian tossed his cuirass onto a trunk that stood at the end of his bed, his white shirt wrinkled and barely tied over his broad chest. “Open up your dress in the front.”
My throat narrowed. “What?”
“Those cuts need cleaning and a layer of tallow.” Sebian pushed a stool in front of me with the tip of his boot, its legs groaning over the stone. “Otherwise, they might get infected.”
I stared down at the gruesome mess that was my chest, wrought with puffed-up lines, shreds of skin, loose hair clinging to the weeping cuts, and blood. So much blood. “It will scar, regardless.”
He took a wooden bowl of water from beside the hearth. “Not if you manage to die of blood poisoning first.”
