Chapter Twenty-Nine
ABBY
SOMETHING FALLS ON my chest, startling me awake.
I sit upright in a flash, my hands darting to my chest as I turn toward the shadow looming over my head. Mason stands above me, much too close for comfort. He’s also redressed, his wound covered with his now-dry black shirt. I hope it hurts.
I squint, struggling to get a good look at him with the sun shining into my eyes. It’s high in the sky, the positioning signaling that I’ve been asleep for hours. That’s not what I wanted, and we’ve already lost a significant number of good daylight hours.
My body needs rest, but I’m not in a place to comfortably provide it. I’m doing my best to remain alert, and I’m failing miserably. I purposefully aimed myself at Mason’s sleeping form so I’d notice when he woke and started moving.
I slept straight through that, though. He’s been looming over me for who knows how long, and I had no idea. His shoes are only inches from my head, and I blink the sleep out of my eyes as I glance at the object he dropped onto my chest.
It’s my antibiotic ointment.
I brought a brand new, extra-large tube with me, and it’s already half empty. Mason’s aggressive use has crinkled and indented the hard plastic, and he used about six times more than necessary on my knees.
I’m surprised Kie didn’t put any on Mason’s side. Shifters must not have use for it. I bet they don’t get infections.
Mason grunts, drawing my attention.
In his hands is a roll of the bandages he’s been using to wrap my knees, and he makes eye contact as he drops it onto the ground beside me. Is he not going to ask me about delysum? I assumed it would be the first thing out of his mouth when I woke up.
I peer around Mason, hoping to catch sight of Kie. He’s the more level-headed of the two, and he seems to have reasonable control of the shifter. If it weren’t for him, Mason would’ve torn me apart the second he found me in the forest.
He tried to.
Mason makes another grunt, the noise a favorite of his today, and gestures to the medical supplies he’s dropped beside me.
The spiteful side of me wants to pretend I don’t know what he wants, but the side afraid of being torn to bits by a giant, wolf-like animal wins out. I’m at a disadvantage here, a big one, and I’d like to stay alive.
It’s hard to remain polite when there’s a giant, smirking asshole hovering above you, though. Pride is dangerous, and I struggle to hold mine back as I set the ointment down and shift my attention to my knees. The bandages moved while I was sleeping, but the wounds are still covered. Mostly.
These tight bandages are going to hurt to take off. I just know it.
That’s probably why Mason’s still standing above me, insisting on watching. I hope his abdomen hurts. I hope his wound festers and rots.
My back is sore from the hard, uneven ground, and I take a moment to stretch it out before unwrapping my left knee. It’s the worst of the two, and my leg begins to shake as I catch sight of the torn skin.
I’ve never been a big fan of gore, especially my own.
Thankfully, it’s not bleeding anymore, but the skin is split open. It needs stitches, and I’m incredibly annoyed that so many were used on Mason but not one could be spared for me.
I hate this place.
Mason extends his arm. A rag dangles from his thumb and forefinger, and he makes eye contact with me as he drops it onto my lap.
“Where’s Kie?” I ask.
I’m more comfortable with the faerie around, and this is the first time he’s left.
Maybe Mason convinced Kie to let him kill me. Maybe the faerie left so he doesn’t have to witness it. Kie doesn’t seem particularly fearful of death, but perhaps he feels guilty when the target is a defenseless, human woman.
I doubt Mason would be making me clean my knees if he were planning to kill me, though. That would be a waste of resources.
Mason doesn’t answer my question, which isn’t surprising. He’s an asshole.
I shift my focus back to my knees. Mason continues standing over me, intently watching my every move. Ignoring him takes a lot of internal strength, but I do my best.
I don’t get why he hates me so much. Even before I made the mistake of asking about delysum, he was cold. I understand I shouldn’t have been in the forest, but it doesn’t explain this level of hostility. He acts like I murdered his firstborn son or something.
My stomach grows queasy as I wipe the skin surrounding my knee, careful not to touch the thin, barely visible scabs just beginning to form in the corners. Mason fucked them up with his rough scrubbing yesterday, and I’m not eager to experience that again.
The skin needs to be left alone.
The rag is tinted red by the time I finish, and the edges of my wounds are bleeding, but it isn’t too bad. Mason makes quiet, disappointed grunts with just about every movement I make, openly judging my ability to clean myself. It’s grating.
I take my time bandaging my knees, hoping Kie will return soon. Maybe he abandoned us while we were resting—left to meet with Zaha himself. I wouldn’t blame him. I’m slow, and Mason is useless when he’s injured. He could barely stand yesterday, let alone walk.
Birds chirp around us, the sound a comfort. The wildlife grows quiet when the shifters are near, the tiny critters probably running away from what they perceive to be larger predators. I wonder why they don’t run from Mason, but it’s perhaps because he’s in his human-looking form.
I finish wrapping my knees before attempting to stand. My wraps aren’t nearly as tight or secure as Mason’s were, but they’ll do. I’m just relieved I got to do it myself. I don’t want Mason touching me.
I press my palms against a tree as I struggle to my feet, holding it for stability as I shift my weight between my legs. I’m angry Kie and Mason cut my leggings after knocking me out, leaving the skin below my mid-thighs exposed.
The sleeping items Kie and Mason share are already packed away, and both their bags are leaning against a tree a few feet away. I hope it’s a good sign that Kie’s things are still here. If he were going to abandon us, I imagine he’d take his backpack with him.
Mason is still standing uncomfortably close to me, and I clear my throat before attempting to walk around him. I want to stretch my legs, but more than that, I want to put space between us.
If I had my way, I’d put an entire realm of space between us.
Mason darts forward. He moves too quickly, wrapping a gloved hand around my bicep before I have time to react. His grip is painfully tight, his fingers digging into the muscles inside my arm.
I grow rigid.
“Tell me what you know,” he orders.
I knew this was coming, knew he wouldn’t drop the topic, but I was hoping the questioning would wait until Kie was present.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I don’t know anything.”
“Liar.” Mason lets out a humorless laugh. “What do you know about delysum? And why are you looking for it?”
I open my mouth, ready to repeat that I don’t know anything, but his grip tightens until all that comes out is a high-pitched squeak. Is he going to kill me if I say something he doesn’t like? He plans to give me to Zaha, but he doesn’t have to. He and Kie planned on meeting her without me, and while I’m an added bonus, I’m not a necessity.
Mason leans forward, his breath hitting my face. I can’t help but notice that it doesn’t smell, but I’m sure mine does. There’s no way it doesn’t.
“Fucking talk,” he hisses.
The or else isn’t said, but it hangs heavily between us.
I don’t feel like I’m breathing. I fill my lungs with a deep inhale, but it doesn’t feel like any oxygen is being absorbed.
Mason shakes my arm, the movement so violent, my head bobs back and forth. He’s growing rough, and I wonder if he’ll hit me. It’s a miracle he hasn’t already. I’m sure it’s in the back of his mind to do so.
“I overheard some faeries in Farbay talking about it,” I say, picking the first lie that comes to mind. “They said delysum is valuable, and I’m always in need of money.”
Mason shakes his head. “Liar.”
He can’t prove that. I overheard several private conversations while walking through the city, and there’s no reason this couldn’t have been one of them.
“What’s going on?” Kie’s voice rings out. He weaves smoothly between the trees, some strands of his dark-brown hair appearing almost blond in the sunlight.
Mason releases me, and I hurry back several steps.
“Mason?” Kie continues.
I lick my lips, glancing nervously between the pair. He obviously heard Mason questioning me, and I can’t help but find it oddly coincidental that he appeared when he did. They’re probably playing some version of good cop, bad cop, and I won’t fall for it.
I’ve seen enough movies and read enough books to know that things never turn out well for the person being questioned.
“I’m telling you the truth,” I tell the pair. “I overheard some faeries at a park in Farbay talking about delysum. They said it’s valuable on the underground markets, and I’m just trying to make some quick money.”
Mason scoffs, and Kie shoots him a sharp glare.
“Is that so?” Kie asks. I nod, and he continues. “And you’re aware that the cultivation, harvest, use, or selling of delysum is a capital offense, correct?”
I gulp. “No.”
It’s the truth.
Mason and Kie exchange another glance. Kie wears a told you so look, one I’ve grown familiar with seeing on my older brother’s face. Mason doesn’t look convinced. He thinks I know far more than I actually do.
He’s treating me like I’m some sort of hardened criminal, which is almost comical.
“She doesn’t know anything, Mace,” Kie says. “And even if she does, we don’t have time to question her. We can send our people to Farbay to investigate her claims once we return home.”
Mason blinks but doesn’t immediately respond. He’s probably trying to decide how far he wants to go with his questioning, and after several long seconds, he steps back and turns away, heading toward his bag.
Does this mean they’re going to drop the subject? Maybe not completely, but at least for now. I’d like to think that, but I’ve also learned that luck isn’t on my side.