Page 50 of Incoronate
“As soon as they confirmed what I was saying was true, they immediately offered to help you.”
“Offered, huh?” I crooked my brow at him. “You made helping me seem like it was their idea, didn’t you.”
“Who? Me? Don’t be ridiculous, angel. It was the only reasonable thing to do and who was I to stand in their way?” He flashed another lopsided grin. “They certainly have their reasons for doing this, but right now, their reasons happen to align with ours.”
“You’re terrifyingly good at this.”
“I am nothing if not efficient.”
A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. “And what happens when they don’t align anymore?”
“Then the truce ends and we go back to being what we’ve always been.”
I exhaled slowly, some of the tension easing from my shoulders.
When he put it that way, it made sense. A temporary truce that benefited both sides without leaving either of us worse off when it ended. It was pragmatic, strategic, and strangely reassuring.
At least for now anyway.
I met his eyes again. “So, what now?”
“Now?” He picked up his glass from the side table and drained the last of his drink. “Now you rest. You recover. Perhaps a long hot shower to rinse away the last few days if you feel up to it. And when you are ready, we will face whatever comes next together.” He set the empty glass down and stood but didn’t move away from the bed right away.
“You mean the Horsemen.”
His expression darkened, the casual confidence slipping into something grimmer. “Make no mistake, angel. The compulsionwillreturn and it will probably be stronger than ever.” His eyes locked on mine with absolute certainty. “Only this time, they will have to come through me first.”
16. A SISTER’S KEEPER
The long hot shower had helped immensely. Not enough to make me feel completely myself again, but enough to wash away the lingering traces of dark magic that seemed to have coated my skin during the ritual. I’d stood under the spray until the water ran cold, watching until the last remnants of my poisoned veins faded away completely, as though they were being rinsed out of me piece by piece and carried down the drain.
There was a kind of catharsis in watching it go. In knowing that whatever had tried to claim my life had been drawn out and discarded. That my body was mine again, however battered and bruised it may be.
When the water couldn’t do anything more for me, I stepped out of the shower and dressed myself, pulling on a pair of worn-in jeans and a cozy, oversized sweater. By the time I was finished, I felt marginally more like myself and was finally ready to leave my room and go off in search of the guys.
At least that was my intention.
Instead, I found myself paused in front of my sister’s door. My hand hovered over the wood for a moment before I knocked twice and pushed it open without waiting for an answer.
Tessa was still in bed, her head propped up against the headboard and her knees drawn to her chest. Her eyes were red and strained, the kind of red that I knew from experience came from crying for hours. From the look of her face and the dozens of tissues scattered across her comforter, she’d been at it for a while.
My heart squeezed painfully in my chest.
She glanced up at me as soon as I entered, blinking past the tears as if to hide them from me. I knew she was trying to be strong, or at least put on a convincing front of it.
But of course, I could see right through it, even if I hadn’t seen all the evidence first.
“You look better,” she said, her voice raspier than usual.
“You don’t,” I said honestly, closing the door behind me.
She huffed out something that might have been a laugh. “Yeah, well. Not all of us got a shot of the magical soul-binding cure.”
I crossed the room slowly, giving her time to tell me to leave if that’s what she wanted. When she didn’t kick me out, I climbed onto the bed and sat across from her, leaving enough space between us that she wouldn’t feel cornered. I tucked one leg under me and waited. Tessa had never been good at starting conversations she didn’t want to have so I knew I had to be the one to do it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, the question coming out far more hurt than I’d rehearsed in my head.
She didn’t pretend not to know what I was talking about. “I barely even told myself,” she answered, her gaze dropping to her hands. She picked at the edge of her thumbnail, worrying the skin there until it turned white. “Besides, I think you had enough to worry about with everything that was going on with you.” She shook her head. “It just never felt like the right time.”
