Chapter 6

Six

"What?" I whispered, wide-eyed. And I wasn't shocked or surprised by very much in this life. "A Sever?"

"There's your secret," Lorik told me. "No more this night."

"You can't just tell me that and say nothing else," I argued. "How do you know this?"

"Like I said, my father was good friends with Merec. Is."

"So, he's…he's alive?"

"As far as I know," he murmured, closing his eyes again briefly.

"But it's the Below," I said, standing from the chair, my legs suddenly restless. Lorik's grip fell away from my wrist. He watched me as I paced, and I noticed that Peek was curled up near the door of my bedroom. Keeping an eye on our guest? "No one survives in the Below except Severs. It's impossible."

A flash of something crossed his expression. Annoyance? Disappointment?

"You know nothing about what is possible and what is not, Marion. Village folk shouldn't speak of something they know nothing about."

The sudden change in his mood had me quieting. His tone was stern. I felt like I was being scolded.

An uncomfortable silence dropped like a heavy stone between us.

Then he said, "I want to ask you something."

I studied him. Even lying back in the bed, half-poisoned, it felt like he still took up the majority of the room.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Are you the kind of person who believes what something seems that something is?"

"I don't understand," I admitted quietly.

He continued as if I hadn't spoken. "Or are you the kind of person who understands there are things that cannot be understood in this world, things that are not what they seem, and that if you understood them in their entirety, you would see that you understood nothing at all?"

"Do you often speak in riddles?" I wondered.

"There are two types of beings on Allavar," he murmured, his blue eyes glittering. Were they glowing? "Those who welcome change and those who don't, who resist it. Which one are you, little witch?"

"You tell me," I replied, stepping forward toward the bed. His eyes never left mine. "I left the safety of my home in the middle of the night to help a stranger, who is now sleeping in my bed. That's certainly a change."

"One might call that bravery," he said. "Or foolishness."

I jolted, annoyance beginning to build in my breast. I shot back, "Or duty."

Lorik's lips quirked tiredly, and he huffed out a sharp breath through his nostrils.

"From what I can see and from what I know, you've lived here a long time, since your sister's death, yes? All alone in the Black Veil, where most wouldn't even step foot. You tend to your glowflies and you keep your braydus, who you are certain never came from the Below. You go to the market every moon cycle to sell your potions and healing salves. You collect your money, and then you come back. To your cottage in the Black Veil. Alone. Where you tend to your glowflies and keep your braydus, who does in fact protect you more than you know."

I stood, frozen, looking down at him. My heart was pounding in my chest. Out of anger? Defensiveness? Or sadness? Loneliness?

"You don't know me at all" was all I could utter. And in the quiet of my room, it felt as pathetic as it sounded.

"Most would say you don't like change. You live a comfortable life. A peaceful one. But is it content? Are you happy?"

I didn't like to be criticized. And this? It felt like one big criticism of my life.

"Why do you even care?" I whispered harshly, glaring down at him. He wasn't fazed by my ire, however.

"Because I want to know everything about you, Marion."

My breath whooshed out of my lungs. Shock momentarily dispelled any displeasure I felt.

"I see a beautiful, empathetic, kind woman, who did leave the safety of her own home to help a stranger in the middle of the night. I see a woman who smiles at villagers in the market who don't even deserve it. I see a woman who has overcome struggle and tragedy but has still managed to build all of this. All by herself. Who sings like an Allavari angel and who has barely slept because she's been tending to a massive, nosy, irritating bastard who's disrupted her life. She would say it's her duty as a healer…but truthfully, I think it might be because she likes him too."

My cheeks felt warm.

"I want to understand that woman," Lorik said. "I want to know you. I have for some time."

My mind flashed to the first time we'd met. All those moon cycles ago in the market, on a drizzly, gray day. I remembered the way my heart had stopped at that mischievous, almost secretive grin when he'd stopped at my stall.

"You never…you never…"

"Asked your name? Asked you to the tavern for an Allavari ale after you packed up your wares? Flirted with you in one of the back booths there so I could steal your kiss and then another when I walked you home?"

"Well…" I trailed off, surprised, flustered. "Yes."

"You didn't strike me as a woman who would welcome someone like me."

My brows furrowed. His tone was soft. Almost…somber. Quiet in its truth.

"You assume a lot, Lorik Ravael," I said, just as quietly. "Maybe instead of assuming, you could simply ask."

"Yes," Lorik said, his eyes closing for a brief moment. I thought I saw something shimmer over his skin, but when the candle's light flickered, I knew my eyes were just playing tricks on me. "You're right, little witch. So when I'm recovered and not sweating out poison in your bed, would you join me for an Allavari ale at Grimstone's Tavern?"

Despite the ache in my back from tending to him the better part of the day and the annoyance in my chest from his earlier words, a small laugh escaped me.

"You don't have to call it an Allavari ale, you know," I pointed out. "We are in Allavar. You just call it ale."

"Was that an answer?"

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly shy.

"Yes," I said. "Yes, I'll join you at Grimstone's."

Lorik's eyes shone. He went quiet, simply watching me, and I fidgeted under his gaze. Embarrassed but pleased with his slow perusal and observation.

"For the sake of honesty, Marion," he warned, his tone deep and husky, "I won't lie—I'll likely try to steal a kiss long before Grimstone's ever happens."

Excitement displaced my previous annoyance. This was new. It felt…dizzying. To be wanted. To be pursued. Especially by him.

"I might even let you," I rushed out.

The sound he made was a cross between a groan and a laugh.

Feeling flushed and uncertain, I said quickly, "You should rest now."

"You expect me to rest after that admission?" he wanted to know.

"Yes," I said, trying to regain some authority in my voice. He was still a patient of mine, after all. And though his fever had come down, he wasn't out of the woods yet.

I didn't understand it. Allavari were powerful. Kylorr too, in their own way, though they possessed no natural-born magic. He should have been able to overcome this. But he'd taken a turn for the worse today.

Something occurred to me, and I let out a small, shuddering sigh.

It had been over a day since he'd fed on my blood. Perhaps his body needed more to cleanse the remainder of the poison and fight the infection that had taken root.

Glancing down at my wrist, I eyed the bandage, before studying him.

"Are you…hungry?" I asked softly.

His blue eyes seemed to glow brighter. His jaw tightened.

"Why didn't you say something?" I asked.

"It's not that…" he said. "It's not that I am. I don't need blood. Like the Kylorr, it's only a…a perk."

"You're sick. I'm sorry—I should have realized," I told him, unwrapping the bandage on my wrist. I heard him swallow hard. The edge of one of his wings twitched as I approached. "Let me help you sit up."

With my help, Lorik maneuvered upright so he leaned against the wooden headboard of my bed. He took up nearly the entire thing.

There would be no room for me unless I was draped over him,came the stray thought.

"This…this is just a feeding," I said slowly, meeting his eyes. I remembered the warm pleasure that had taken hold before. I didn't know if I'd be able to look at another Kylorr's fangs the same again.

His lips quirked, no doubt trying to bring some lightness and levity to the tension strumming tightly between us. "Like my medicine?"

My grin felt too wide on my face, too flustered by the sudden pounding in my breast and the way the healing wound on my wrist began to throb.

"Yes, exactly," I told him, raising my wrist and sitting down. The pads of Lorik's fingers, the heat and caress of them, made me shiver when he took it. He brushed his thumb over the vein, and my breath hitched in anticipation.

Perched on the edge of my bed, I was close enough to him to see the sudden swirling in his eyes. Was that a common trait in Kylorr-Allavari?

Our gaze connected and held. This close, I could smell the sharpness of the night nettle, but underneath that, I smelled crushed silver leaves and willowroot moss—earthy but crisp.

He smelled like the Black Veil at dawn.

His fangs elongated. They ran over the vein he'd traced with his thumb.

Then he bit down.