Chapter 3

Three

There was a half-naked and slumbering Kylorr-Allavari in my bed, the first male to ever lie within its comfortable confines.

And he was held teetering on the edge of death.

He was sweating out the poison—as he had been since midnight—and if he survived that, the infection would take hold next.

But Lorik Ravael was strong. His heart had beat steadily and proudly beneath my cool palm when I'd checked it last. The night nettle was gifting him strange nightmares, and I watched from the doorway as he moaned and thrashed, his wings twitching underneath him. His shoulder was bandaged, but I'd left the wound open for now. It needed regular cleanings, and I needed to keep it packed with fresh poultice every few hours before I stitched it.

My forearm was beginning to burn from grinding the dried wrathweed in the early morning hours, but it needed to be done. Beneath the clean, white bandage, the bite on my wrist throbbed.

Heal him first…ask questions later,I reminded myself.

But I knew from my studies, from stories, from history…that a Kylorr's bite only triggered that kind of response in their mates. Their blood mates. Kyranas—that was what they called them in their language. Their venom reacting with their mate's blood, creating an overwhelming cacophony of sensation, meant to bond and tether the pairing together. Often for life.

That was what history said. History. Kyrana pairings…I'd never heard of one on Allavar. Not for centuries, at least. They happened commonly on Krynn, the Kylorr's home planet, because of their deities, because of the magic that infused that world.

But Allavar was different. The rules were different. The magic here was not the same.

I exhaled a slow breath and turned from the doorway. Looking at his face made my chest ache, as it always had. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't fantasized about Lorik in my bed before, though I hadn't known his name then. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't touched myself to the memory of his teasing grin and mischievous eyes, if I hadn't fantasized about those wings wrapping around me as he—

"Enough, Marion," I whispered, my cheeks flushing. This was improper. Having these thoughts about a half-dead, half-naked, half-Kylorr, half-Allavari male, who'd always sent a shiver down my spine. Was I intrigued? Yes. But that shiver also told me he was dangerous. There was something I couldn't see with Lorik. Something beneath the surface that had always sent a sharp warning spearing through my belly.

And others sense it too,I thought, remembering how most villagers gave him a wide berth at the market.

I thought that, perhaps, it was because of his mixed race. Allavari magic manifesting in a Kylorr? That was an extremely dangerous and powerful thing. Veranis Sarin—or his followers—wouldn't have been so powerful without his mixed blood, after all. And while the centuries had softened the fear of that in the villagers, it wasn't gone. There was a reason why people still looked at Kylorr-and-Allavari couples with a lingering, disapproving stare.

Lorik was a mystery I knew better than to investigate too deeply. Even as I acknowledged that, my eyes strayed to the floor in the front room, to the bloodied remnants of the arrow that had been protruding from his chest.

Reaching down, I gathered up the broken pieces as sunlight peeked through the shutters of my windows. I turned the fletching and the arrowhead in my fingers. Silver metal. But Allavari—though renowned and talented metallurgists in all the Four Quadrants—didn't use metal in arrows. They thought it a waste of their precious resources. Not even Allavari hunters used arrows anymore.

Sighing, I dropped the tips into an empty bowl to wash and snagged a fresh rag to clean up the memory of midnight. I heard a soft warbling, husky sound behind me and turned to see Peek emerging from beneath the kitchen counters.

"There you are," I murmured. "That's where you've been this whole time, you little coward?"

He mewed in answer, and I shook my head, reaching out to scratch behind his ears that were nearly as long as his body.

"We have a guest," I told Peek. "So, be nice."

My braydus's eyes narrowed. Then he turned his head to regard the open doorway of my bedroom, his back hunching in response. In a flash, he leaped to the cottage door, pawing at it, and I let him out into the front garden.

Turning my face up to the sun, I soaked in the warm rays, even as the chilly air made me tighten my shawl around my shoulders. I was certain I looked like a mess. My nightdress was covered in black blood. Wrist bandaged. Braid askew. Deep circles under my eyes.

I smiled. The sun felt like life.

That was what Aysia always used to say. She'd woken early in the mornings to catch every last ray. At the orphanage, Correl had been hard pressed to get her back inside most days…likely why my sister's back and legs had been covered in welts. Likely why I'd done everything I could to learn how to heal her quickly, to make her feel better so she wouldn't cry at night.

Grief and guilt and memory made my smile fade. The sun's warmth turned oppressive, and I retreated back into my cottage but left the door open to help air out the stink of the poultice and the fire cups still simmering in the hearth.

"Aysia, you silly lovesick darling," I murmured to myself, missing her. Some days, it felt like an open wound, one that would never heal.

"Do you often talk to yourself, little witch?" came his voice, tired and rumbled. "Or is that the madness of the Black Veil manifesting in you?"

A little embarrassed he'd caught me, I turned slowly and said, "You should be in bed still."

The left corner of his full mouth twitched up. "You're not the first female to say that to me."

He looked to be in a sorry state. Hunched over, skin shimmering with sweat, damp hair sticking to his, admittedly, impressively well-defined chest. He was a Kylorr, after all.

Leaning heavily against the doorframe of my bedroom, Lorik ran his gaze over me. His eyes settled on the bandage over my wrist, and I felt his eyes burn there like a brand. The bite throbbed, the mortifying memory of temporary insanity rising.

My face felt hot. My legs felt like they were suddenly made of stone.

He'd fed from me greedily. Roughly, even. As if he couldn't get enough of my blood. And in return, I'd nearly come apart at my seams, moaning out my disbelief, before I couldn't take it anymore. I'd ripped myself away, tearing the skin, making myself bleed even more.

"You didn't let me heal you last night," Lorik said. I felt the richness of his voice thread and weave into my body. "I don't remember what came afterward. But I do remember that."

He made the room feel entirely too small, even though he kept a respectable distance and he looked like a wind gust could blow him over.

There was a strain in his eyes that hadn't been there before. I wondered what the nightmares had been.

"I'm serious, Lorik," I said quietly. "You need to be resting."

The mysterious male stared at me across the room, neither of us making a move.

"Why did you save me?"

My brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You woke in the middle of the night, ventured out into the Black Veil, and risked your safety to help me. Why?" Lorik asked. "For all you know, I could be a danger to you too."

Heart picking up speed, I asked, "Are you? A danger to me?"

Lorik didn't reply, only lowered his sharp chin slightly. Was that an affirmative? Or because his head was growing heavy from weariness?

Much to my dismay, Lorik didn't return to bed. He shuffled over to the chair at the table he'd been sitting in the night before, freshly cleaned of his blood though I could still smell it in the air.

"Why?" I repeated. "Because I'm a healer. It's my duty. The oath I took under Allavari law."

"And bound in their magic?" he wondered.

I inclined my head. "Yes."

"Ah, so you see," he said softly, whistling. "If you didn't help me, knowing I needed it, you would be punished. You would feel pain if you yourself did not try to assuage it for another. Would you consider yourself a selfish person, little witch?"

I blinked, my spine straightening. Irritation rose in my chest, but I kept my face smooth. "No."

"Liar," he said, smiling though it looked more like a grimace on his face with the amount of discomfort he must've been in. "I think we're all selfish. It's in every being's nature, in all the Four Quadrants, to look out for themselves and only themselves."

"And what about family? The ones you love?" I pondered, thinking of Aysia, knowing Lorik was wrong. "Are you telling me you wouldn't do anything in your power, even in the face of death, to help them?"

Lorik's lips lifted and he dropped his gaze to the floor. In agreement?

"Perhaps," I said, "I don't share your pessimism."

Lorik's sudden laugh jolted me, a booming, surprising sound. He laughed too loudly, too fully. My brows furrowed listening to it, watching him, even as my shoulders relaxed, liking the sound entirely too much.

"Oh, fuck, that hurts," he wheezed, his voice husky and strained but no less pleasing to my ears.

Peek's warbling mew sounded from the doorway, drawn in from the commotion. Lorik's head whipped over his shoulder, likely tugging on the wound, and I frowned, my lips parting to order him back to bed. He needed to keep his heartbeat steady, and he certainly didn't need to be stretching his wound.

"A braydus?" Lorik said, voice wistful. "Wherever did you find it?"

My soft spot was Peek, however, as I enjoyed talking about him and hardly ever got the chance to. I found myself straying to the front doorway of my cottage, Lorik turning in his chair to regard me. I scooped up Peek, his long, soft fur tickling my arms and brushing over the bandaged bite on my wrist, the press of his body making it throb.

"In the forest," I told Lorik. "Years ago now. He was only just born and I looked for days for the mother but couldn't find her."

He was staring at Peek, a strange expression on his face.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to relax the stiff braydus in my arms as the two regarded one another.

"The braydus come from the Below," Lorik murmured. "Aren't you worried its magic will draw Severs?"

"What are you talking about?" I questioned. "There are braydus all over these woods. They didn't come from the Below."

Lorik's gaze flashed up to mine. "That's a pure braydus you have in your arms. You can tell by the eyes."

I looked down at Peek, his vibrant blue orbs shimmering in the sunlight.

"It came from the Below. I'm only surprised you don't have Severs at your door nightly wanting it back," Lorik said.

"His name is Peek," I informed him, my tone testy, glancing back up at the mysterious male across from me, whose lips quirked. "And I don't. I have a protection barrier placed around my property every moon cycle."

"And you think that keeps Severs away?" Lorik questioned, his tone agonizingly smug for someone the color of dampened ash. "An Allavari witch's spell is no match for a Sever. Surely you know that."

"Well, it's worked. For years," I snapped, my shoulders going back as I let Peek back down to the floor when he began to struggle. "The Severs stay beyond the property line. Not once have they ever been able to step foot toward the cottage."

Lorik's eyes narrowed and his gaze dropped back to Peek, who regarded him with a hunched back from the floor, hiding behind my legs.

"Then that is your braydus's magic, not that of an Allavari witch. You have yourself a protector," Lorik said, his tone decided. "Lucky for you, it is Peek who keeps the Severs away."

I laughed. "I think the infection has taken root. Do you feel feverish?"

"Don't believe me?" he questioned, leaning heavily in the chair. His bared chest was shimmering with sweat.

"The braydus live in the Black Veil, and they have for centuries. They certainly have no magic. Peek's only ability is to eat far more than he should, and he is particularly gifted at catching poor rodents and leaving them on the doorstep. But he certainly didn't come from theBelow"—even thinking it was laughable—"and he doesn't keep Severs away. A very pricey monthly spell does."

Lorik's eyes began to glitter, but I thought it was a trick of the light. When I blinked, they returned to their blue state.

"Are you often driven by logic and intellect, Marion?" Lorik asked. "Or do you think there may be a chance that there are things in this universe even you cannot understand or expect? Things that might challenge the way you think and upheave every last thing you think you know?"

"Logically, I know there are many things in this universe I cannot begin to understand."

Lorik laughed again, this time softer, and Peek crept closer to him, sniffing the air.

"You are a peculiar woman," he said, watching my braydus approach him. "And if we were on Krynn, perhaps, why might you think fate chose you for me?"

I stiffened, my face going hot. The first mention to what I suspected. He knew it too.

Damn.

"What does your logic decide about that?" Lorik wanted to know, that smug smirk appearing on his face, making the room appear entirely too small again.

"That…that was a fluke," I told him, straightening my spine, my eyes dropping to Peek as he sniffed Lorik's boots, which I hadn't taken off him after I'd lugged him to bed. Peek hissed and backed away slowly. "It's possible the keeper's bone had some sort of adverse reaction. Your fangs were coated in it, so when you bit down—"

"Shall we put it to the test again? The scientist in you would appreciate that, surely."

The flush seemed to spread from my cheeks to just about everywhere else.

"That won't be necessary," I huffed. "You need to go back to bed now. You're…you're upsetting Peek."

Lorik's slow gaze dropped to my braydus and then slowly came back to meet mine. "Right. Peek. Wouldn't want that, would we, little witch?"

He stood and returned to the bedroom. When he was out of sight, I sagged against the wall, blowing out a long, silent breath.

Lorik Ravael needed to heal…and then he needed to leave. The sooner, the better.

Before this thread between us strengthened until neither of us could untangle ourselves from it.