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Her eyes glint with amusement. “That, my girl, you can have for free.”
I cross the room to Cassius as the witch returns to the kitchen.
“Sit,” I order, pointing to the floor.
He starts to protest but stops at the narrowing of my eyes—or perhaps because of the worry seeping in.
Cassius sits, crossing his legs and holds his arm out. I carefully unravel the scrap of my shirt. Della places a bowl of hot water with a sponge to my right. Then I set to work.
I can feel the weight of everyone in the room watching. My hands shake as I clean around the torn skin, squeezing water over the deep gashes to flush out bits and pieces of dirt.
Before I lose my nerve, I pick up the needle and thread placed atop a stack of fresh bandages. Tension works its way up the muscles in my back.
After several attempts, the thread finally slides through the eye of the needle. Hovering over the first slice, my forehead prickles with sweat. I glance up at Cassius. His face is void of emotion as he continues to hold his arm out for me.
I grimace as the needle pierces his flesh, then sew the first loop, tugging lightly to pull the skin together. He hisses and bares his fangs but falls back into his blank expression almost as quickly.
Cassius doesn’t move or speak again as I continue to stitch each wound. He might as well be made of stone.
Sitting back on my heels when I finish, I examine my work. It isn’t as nice as I would like, but it will do until we are out of the forest and he can heal quickly. At least the bleeding has stopped.
I look to him for approval. Cassius rotates his arm then lifts his brows.
“I’m willing to bet that your sister was the seamstress in your family,” he says dryly.
My mouth falls open.
Lawrence snorts with laughter from behind. “You can all let me die if that’s the quality of treatment I’ll be receiving. What a shame, Cassius, to have such crooked scars on your flawless skin.”
Della covers her mouth doing a poor job stifling her amusement.
Heat floods my cheeks. I fling the sponge into the bowl, sloshing water over the rim and move to stand. Cassius reaches out to stop me. His fingers slide up the back of my hand and curl lightly around my wrist.
I force myself to meet his eyes, humiliated by my lack of skill.
“Thank you, little bird,” Cassius says quietly. He lets his hand fall away and I straighten, taking everything into the back room.
Chapter Seventeen
Clara
Warm,golden light filters through the tops of the trees as I step out onto the porch. There are still a handful of hours before dark, even this close to the mountains.
“Remember, once you leave, you cannot return until you have the items or have failed,” the oracle witch reminds me.
I nod. Armed only with my dagger and a satchel with three glass bottles, I step onto the stone path leading into the forest.
Cassius tries to follow, but before I can tell him to stay, he bounces off an invisible wall. He presses both of his palms against the barrier, eyes rounding.
“What is this?” he demands, turning on Ophelia with a snarl.
“This is a quest she must fulfill alone.”
“She could die out there—”
“Then she dies,” Ophelia cuts him off. “If she wants to save her vampire, she must do this without your help.”
The space between my shoulders grows tight with tension. Della clasps a hand over her mouth, and even Lawrence looks mildly concerned. Their worry is wasted because I will not die.
