Chapter Eleven
Rion slammed his hand down on the sink’s edge and let the tweezers clatter to the drain, splattering droplets of blood along the white marble in their wake. He gritted his teeth then grabbed the bottle to his left and took another swig. The amber liquid burned his throat, but it paled in comparison to the inferno pulsing down his arm.
Everything ached. Or it had before he’d downed a quarter bottle of liquor. He’d taken it directly from the governor’s personal reserves. The male wouldn’t be needing it anymore anyway.
Another breath, then Rion grabbed the tweezers again and angled himself in the mirror. He grimaced. It looked as bad as it felt.
Starting at his wrist and extending all the way to his bicep, the skin along his arm was raised and bulging. It had turned various shades of purple and red and blue, and small openings had formed along the skin where the vine had broken through.
A civilian. He cursed and stared at the place he’d been working on for over an hour. He’d hoped the alcohol would dull the pain, but it hadn’t helped nearly enough.
A puddle of his own blood sat by his feet and the lower part of his arm had gone numb. On the outside, at least.
Rion drank from the bottle again. He just needed to get it out. Fast. Then he could move on from this nightmare of an evening.
“You left quite the mess downstairs.” He closed his eyes in frustration at the familiar voice, trying to pretend he didn’t hear it. Maybe if he stood in silence long enough, she’d just disappear.
Rion opened his eyes to find Selina leaning against the bathroom door frame, her arms crossed. She grimaced at his wound.
“Feel free to leave.” His words slurred. Rion examined his arm again.
Selina clicked her tongue. “And here I was thinking you were done being an ass.” He leveled her with a glare. She didn’t flinch away.
She sighed. “As much fun as it is watching you torture yourself, I could help.” She pushed off from the wall but Rion spun away before she got close. His bare chest heaved and her lips parted slightly at the sight of the sand rising, ready to protect in ways she couldn’t imagine.
Or perhaps she could if she’d been watching his fight and the hell he’d unleashed upon this place afterward.
His voice was low as he said, “I’ve had enough close calls for one night.” An hour ago, he’d contemplated whether he could kill her. But now, staring at the concern on her face. At the way her eyes darted across his injuries, cataloging each in turn. He wasn’t sure he could go through with it.
His magic was a raging mess and he’d drank far too much. One wrong move, one misjudgment, and she’d wind up just like Caol.
Selina’s gaze drifted to his arm again. “You think I’d do that?”
“It’s the perfect opportunity, isn’t it?”
Selina put her hands on her hips and glowered. “I do have my pride to consider. I’m not going to jump a male who’s already down.”
“Down?” He gestured to the doorway and the bodies he knew lay bleeding out on the first floor below. “I’m sure they thought I was down, too.”
“Are you planning to clean that up?”
He turned back to the mirror, watching her in the reflection. “Why? Let the damn civilians worry about it.”
She inclined her head. “Did a civilian do that to you?”
He gritted his teeth. “Does it matter?”
“No,” she studied the wound again. “I was just curious if she was trained.”
“She was sloppy.”
“Thank the gods, otherwise it’d be in your heart.”
“Are you finished?”
“I will be when you give me those tweezers and let me help.”
“You’re not touching me. Leave.”
Selina sighed and lifted her hands in mock surrender. “I promise on my life that I will not try to kill you tonight or at any point in the coming week. There, satisfied?” She held out her hand. “Now will you hand me those damned things?”
He scented the air. Processed her words. No lie, but could he trust his addled brain to pick it up?
He looked at his arm again and sighed in defeat. He was never going to get it all out alone.
Rion leaned over the sink again. “Give me a second.” He needed to get his magic under control first. If he couldn’t do that, then he’d have to wait until he was sober again. Not the most pleasant option. She watched him, waiting, and he finally said, “I can’t always control it.”
Selina eyed the grains swirling at his feet. “Really? I didn’t know.”
“No one does.”
She nodded at his tone and approached slowly. Rion handed her the tweezers and watched her through the mirror as she assessed the damage. Her fingers prodded the tender skin around the top of his bicep and he hissed at the pain.
Selina winced and nodded toward the bottle of whiskey. “You’re going to need a few more drinks of that.”
Rion tilted the bottle to his lips and drank until his throat couldn’t bear it. He set the bottle down and leaned against the sink again.
She prodded another area. “It would be easier if I used my magic—”
“No.” Hell no, he was done with Brónach’s magic for a lifetime.
She clicked her tongue, then placed the tip of the tweezers against one of the many holes in his arm. Rion ground his teeth when the metal prodded his flesh and searing pain shot all the way down his arm. She dug deeper and he felt a section of the offending greenery shift. Rion squeezed the lip of the sink and couldn’t hold back a grunt when she pulled a piece free.
He took several deep breaths and she held it up to the mirror for him to see. It was barely longer than his finger.
“This is stupid. You’re going to die of blood loss before we’re done.”
He reached for the bottle again. “No magic.”
She huffed and placed the tweezers into another hole; this time Rion growled against the pain. He was panting by the time she pulled it out. It was even smaller than the first.
“I’m not doing this.” She let the tweezers fall back into the sink. “Either you let me use my magic and get this done in a few seconds, or you do the rest yourself.”
“Then get out.”
“Gods, does alcohol make you stupid? How do you expect to get every single piece out? It’s embedded deep, and the small roots will be impossible for you to find.” She looked him over. “You look ready to hit the floor as it is.”
Rion gritted his teeth. She was right and he hated it. He could handle the pain, that part wasn’t what bothered him. But even if he managed to get the largest sections out, the smaller would remain. They’d cause infection, which would only complicate matters further.
He squeezed the edge of the sink. “Swear it again.”
Selina sighed. “I swear I will not try to kill you with my hand, magic, command, or any weapons at any point tonight, tomorrow, or even into the coming week.”
Rion studied her again, searching for the lie. Nothing burned his nose. He’d never allowed himself to be vulnerable with anyone aside from Saoirse. To put his life in Selina’s hands, despite her words—
She’d been sent to kill him. She was a manipulator. Maybe her words weren’t true at all.
He saw the concern in her gaze as she stared at his arm. But maybe—maybe this one time she was sincere. Maybe, despite her orders—
“Do you always think this much or is that the alcohol, too?”
Rion gritted his teeth. “Get it over with.” He’d see if he woke up tomorrow.
She pointed to the bottle of alcohol. “Finish that first.”
He did. Rion downed the contents, then slammed the bottle in the sink so hard it shattered. Glass flew everywhere, scattering across the tiled floor. “Happy?”
“Almost. Sit.” She pointed to the wall.
His vision blurred. “Why?”
“So I don’t have to catch you when you inevitably pass out, that’s why.”
Rion turned, stumbled, caught himself, then slumped against the wall and sank to the floor. The coolness from the tile seeped through his back and he leaned into it.
No one moved for a long minute. His mind tottered on the edge of fading, but her voice broke through. “You mentioned you couldn’t always control it. Do I need to be worried?”
Rion studied the grains at his feet. They were just as sluggish as he felt. He didn’t have the strength to open his eyes. “It’s fine.”
She must have been surveying him because it took a while for her to approach. Adrenaline spiked through him anew when he scented her magic. He cracked his heavy eyes open and watched her place her hands over his skin. This was stupid. After all the training he’d done, after all the things he’d endured, he was going to die thanks to someone who’d likely never trained a day in their life.
Her hands kept moving over his skin, poking and prodding as she went. “I think I can get it all in one go.” Her voice was distant, floating through his mind. He tried to piece together her meaning then white hot pain erupted through his body.
Rion screamed, unable to contain it and tried to pull away from the source of the pain. It lanced through his arm, tearing at the muscles themselves. They were being ripped away, pulled out through his very skin.
No, that was the vines. They moved like giant worms, tearing him from the inside out.
Stupid. Idiotic. Foolish. He’d made himself an easy target.
The pain vanished, leaving a burning sensation in its wake that grew to unbearable levels. He tried to reach for it, to wipe it away, but gentle hands stopped him.
A warm cloth met the tender skin. His body trembled, then Rion embraced oblivion.