Chapter 10 #2
Talon drops his firewood and spins, and before I can process what's happening he's in front of me, his body blocking mine completely.
A split second later I smell it, the electrical crackle of Magnus's magic pushing up into my sinuses, sharp and acrid, and then there's a flash of purple in the trees and a streak of white energy tearing through the air.
It hits Talon square in the chest.
The force of it drives him back a step into me.
I catch him by instinct, my hands fisting in his shirt, and the air between us turns sharp with the smell of scorched fabric and burned flesh that makes my stomach turn.
I panic for a moment, thinking he's about to go up in flames, but he doesn't. He just rights himself.
He took it for me. I hadn't even known it was coming.
“You fucker,” Talon mutters, shaking his head, apparently impervious to whatever magic Magnus just cast on him. “A trapping spell?”
Magnus panics and tries to back pedal, but gets tangled in the brush. Talon, holding one hand to his chest, moves fast enough to swing his sword and nick the warlock on his side, which immediately opens with a crimson gush.
“Bloodsucker!” Magnus swears, his face going pale, his hand at his side, covered in blood. “You didn’t succeed in turning me before! You won’t now!”
"Idiot," Talon says, swinging his sword again.
Magnus turns and runs, disappearing into the forest. Talon stands straight, holding his sword menacingly, until he's satisfied Magnus is gone.
"Hey, Lady Nyx," Talon gasps, shooting me a what can you do look. “Apologies, but I think I might pass out.” Then he slumps against the tree, his sword drooping down by his knee, and I realize the shot to his chest wasn't as trivial as he played it off to be.
I take the sword from his hand before he drops it and slide it back into his sheath with more confidence than I feel. Then I duck under his arm, get my shoulder beneath it, and take as much of his weight as I can manage.
"You saved me," I say as we start moving. "Again."
"It’s a habit I'm forming with you, it seems." He exhales slowly. "Does this one earn me a kiss?"
I consider it a moment longer than is strictly necessary. "Maybe. Heal up first."
He makes a sound that might be a laugh if he had more air to spare. "Something to look forward to."
We move slowly, much more slowly than we should.
His weight shifts against me with every step, and twice I have to stop entirely and brace myself while he finds his feet again.
Once, his knees buckle and I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull, and we stand there for a moment in the middle of the woods while he breathes through it.
"Stay with me," I tell him.
"I'm here," he mutters. His head drops slightly, then lifts again. "I'm here."
"I know. Keep talking."
"About what?"
"Anything. The balls your family threw. The desserts. Whatever comes to mind."
He makes a rough exhale. "There was this one where my mother had the entire hall decorated in white and silver." There’s a pause while he steadies. "The food alone took a week to prepare."
"Keep going," I say.
He does, slowly, in fragments, while I half carry him through the trees. The camp feels much further away than it should. What should have taken five minutes stretches to fifteen.
By the time the cave entrance comes into view between the trees, my shoulder is burning and Talon's voice has gone quiet again.
"Almost there," I tell him.
"Told you," he murmurs. "Excellent company."
The second we come into view, Thorian and Fenric are on us instantly, taking the vampire and setting him on the ground inside the cave, so he can lean against a rock.
"What happened?" Thorian demands, while Fenric kneels down, looking at the wound on Talon's chest and sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of it.
"It's just a scratch," Talon jokes, and Fenric shakes his head. Talon sobers slightly, then nods toward me. "It was meant for her. A trapping spell. But since the casting was meant to hit her, when it hit me, it just turned to pure energy."
“Gods,” I mutter, dropping to my knees beside him. I’ve been operating on adrenaline. I hadn’t fully processed the fact that his shirt is now burned and that a wound peeks out from beneath the tatters of his shirt.
“It should have obliterated you,” Fenric says, pouring some water over the wound while Talon hisses, wincing. The edges are singed, his skin red and black in some spots. The wound is right over his heart.
“Well, one perk of being a bloodsucker is the resistance to magic,” Talon says, jerking his head at Thorian. “He’ll know all about it.”
“Sure,” Thorian mutters, his eyes on the vampire. “Still not sure I would have taken the shot to my chest.”
“You would have,” Talon says, looking up at him. “Otherwise, it was going to hit her.”
Silence descends over our little group, and I realize that, while kneeling next to his spot on the ground, I’ve picked up Talon’s cool hand and cradled it in my own. He turns to look at me, and I surprise myself, and everyone else I think, by leaning forward and pressing my lips to his.
They’re cool, like the rest of him, and he keeps them firmly shut.
The kiss is chaste, quick. “Thank you,” I say when I pull back, my body creating enough heat now for the two of us.
I’m still holding his hand, and I can feel the weight of Thorian and Fenric’s eyes heavy on me. “For saving my life.”
Talon clears his throat and shrugs, clearly trying to look nonchalant. And he manages to, mostly, pull it off. “All in a day’s work.”
“I’ll see if I can find some nettles and dandelions,” Fenric says, getting to his feet. “I can make a healing paste.”
Talon waves his hand, closing his eyes and leaning back against the rock. “No matter. It will heal by the morning. Just let me rest.”
Fenric shrugs and glances at the ring of rocks in the cave he and Thorian prepared. “Well, we’ll be needing that firewood.”
"I'll get more," I offer.
"I'll come with you," Thorian says, already standing. His tone leaves no room for debate. "And keep an eye out for the warlocks."
We move together in a different direction, away from where Talon and I had been, and though Thorian keeps his head on a swivel. The forest around us seems undisturbed. Magnus must be long gone by now.
Just thinking about him sends a shudder down my spine. A trapping spell, Talon had said. For what? To trap me? To what end?
"Nyx." Thorian's deep voice cuts through my thoughts, and I realize he's stopped and is looking at me intently. "We need to talk."
"About what?"
He's quiet for a moment, choosing his words with the same deliberateness he applies to everything. "I'm worried about how quickly you've formed bonds with the others. With Fenric." A pause. "With Talon especially. You don't know these men. Not really."
"I know enough," I say.
"You've known Talon for next to no time."
"And I know he stepped in front of a spell meant for me without a second thought.
" I hold his gaze. "I know Fenric helps us without us even having to ask.
I know you've kept us alive and moving and together through every trial we've faced.
" I take a small step toward him. "I know all three of you have good hearts. "
Something tightens in his jaw. "Don't include me in that."
"Why not? It's true."
"It isn't," he says, with a flatness that tells me he believes it completely.
"Thorian."
"I have done things, Nyx. Things that would change what you think when you look at me."
"Maybe," I say quietly. "But I see who you are now.
I see how you move through the world, how you treat the people in your care, what you're willing to sacrifice.
" I close the remaining distance between us, and after a moment his arms come around me, slow and almost reluctant, like he's still deciding whether he's allowed.
I press my cheek to his chest and feel the tension in him, the resistance of a man who has spent a long time not being held.
"You can tell me you don't have a good heart as many times as you like. I'll keep not believing you."
The silence holds for a long moment.
"No one has ever accused me of having a good heart," he says finally, his voice low and rough at the edges.
"Everyone is crazy."
Another pause. His arms tighten slightly.
"No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel, either," he says. "So perhaps you've earned the right to be wrong about me."
I glance up at him. “How do I make you feel?”
His dark brown eyes hold mine. “You know how you make me feel.”
“Do I?”