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“Tell them, Prisca.”
Blood, so much blood.
Cavis’s blood.
I launched myself at Soltor, but my movements were slow. I was pinned in place. Trapped.
Eadric’s knife, so close to my eye. I choked on a sob.
“Prisca.”
Cavis’s eyes, steady and accepting. And then blank, as if he was already gone, and the deepest memory of who he’d been was what kept him moving.
I was free. Somehow, I was free. And I leaped at Soltor, hope spreading its wings in my chest.
Everything went silent. And that sound Cavis made…it echoed, over and over and over. A rough, choked gurgle.
I screamed and screamed.
“Wildcat.”
I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t. I—
“Prisca, wake up. Now!”
I came awake swinging. My hands lashed out, as if still chained together, smashing into Lorian’s face.
He didn’t make a sound, just leaned back, giving me some space. His mouth was bleeding. Bleeding because—
“I’m…I’m going to—”
My head spun as he pulled me into his arms. And then we were in the tiny bathing room, and I knelt in front of the toilet, heaving and shuddering.
When I was done, I lifted my head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” He handed me a cup of water, pressing a damp cloth to my forehead, before using it to wipe the sweat from my chest, the back of my neck.
It was my fourth nightmare of the night. Each time, I’d jolted awake to find myself in Lorian’s arms, and he’d held tightly, stroking me gently as I’d trembled.
“Can I take you back to the bed, wildcat?”
“I can walk.” Just as soon as my knees solidified again.
He merely lifted me once more, depositing me on the bed and placing several pillows behind my back. My hand shook, spilling the water, and he held it to my lips before placing the glass on the bedside table.
I reached for his hand. He looked as if he was the one who’d been tortured. “I’m fine,” I murmured.
He pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. “You’re so tired, Prisca. Will you sleep again?”
I shook my head.
“Then rest. With me.”
It was still dark outside, so I curled into him, and he stroked my back until I finally managed to stop trembling and was still.
When I gave up on resting, I shifted away, swinging my legs over my side of the bed. Lorian wasn’t brooding. He wasn’t seething. But he was…something.
