Page 60 of This Shattered Star

Kodhan’s fury turned molten. It was suddenly like he couldn’t study me fast enough, gaze darting repeatedly back and forth from my eyes, to my cheeks, my mouth, in a disorienting cycle.I couldn’t remember the point where it felt like he was the one thing keeping me upright. My limbs had melted, leaving my soul suspended mid-air.

Brannon’s murmur tethered me back to the living. “You could at least explain why your clothes are sopping wet.”

“I don’t see how there can be any fun in that,” Theia countered, her voice fading when she entered her room.

“I don’t see the fun in wet clothing, either. Come here, I’ll dry it for…” Brannon followed, his sentence cut off by thick stone.

Kodhan’s brows twitched downward as his fingers slowly untangled from my hair, only to let them skate across my back. I couldn’t repress my shiver. “You are also wet.”

“And what of it?” I didn’t dare move an inch. Hated the flush rising up my neck. Every single one of my nerves was a living, writhing thing. His rising smirk had me quickly sputtering, “It is what happens when one comes into contact with water.”

“Of course it is,” he didn’t laugh, but the amusement riding his tone sounded just the same.

My hands went hot where they pushed at his chest. “Keep your magic awayfrom me. The next time I feel even a lick of it, I will properly bury your own dagger in your gut.”

“I didn’t…” Confusion shot across his features, dimming the intensity in his gaze. Then it gave way to understanding, the grimness of it pulling his smirk back into a frown. “Fine.”

“Fine,” I repeated, trying and failing to figure out the root of his confusion.

Magic had many forms. Most were used to cause pain. But if wielded by someone powerful enough, it had other uses. Fire, especially, was known to incite the opposite.

And Kodhan was certainly powerful enough. I was already trapped in a series of deadly trials. I didn’t need his games on top of them.

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Survival is best won together. We can wait for the next trial in Theia’s room. Build a powerful front against any threats until then.”

I hated that he was right. Even if I put everything I could in front of my door, it would prove futile if Darion and his allies came back to exact revenge.

“You can get some sleep, too,” he added, pointedly looking at the shadows beneath my eyes.

“Fine,” I said again. Folded my arms over my chest.

“Alright,” he replied slowly, nostrils flaring with his sigh.

He moved out of my way, limbs so stiff I expected to hear bones snap. Wasting no time, I brushed past him, aiming for Theia’s open door.

It was easy to dismiss the tingles along the back of my neck. But there was nothing I could do about the lingering warmth fanning my cheeks.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Pain erupted across my skull, slicing into the echo of war drums ricocheting off my subconsciousness.

Startling awake, I tried grasping at its threads, a sudden urgency torememberforcing me to sit up straight, but adrenaline slammed down the length of my veins, smearing any fragmented images. Like swiping a hand across a fresh, unfinished canvas.

Just the wall,I realized, pressing my fingers against the tender spot on my head. No enemies perched in the corners of the room. None stood, claws raised, teeth barred, by the foot of the bed.

Theia had insisted I take the bed, but I refused to lie in it. I sat ramrod straight at the head of it instead, back against the wall, legs crossed over its undisturbed blankets. If anyone decided to attack us, I wanted to be ready. If it meant cracking my head against the wall every time my head lolled too far while I slept, so be it.

My eyes landed on Kodhan, still sitting with his arms crossed in the chair he’d set against the door the last time he’d been awake. His head rested against the wood, eyes closed. Though I didn’t believe for a second that he was in any deep kind of slumber.

All the hardness and anger melted from his face when he slept—or at least pretended to. It suited him better, that calmness. It almost made him look younger. Kinder.

Theia and Brannon rested by the opposite wall, her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her middle. Her chest rose and fell evenly. At least that made one of us that could sleep properly.

Brannon, unlike Kodhan, wasn’t feigning sleep. He shot me a smile.

Out of all of us, he’d gotten the least amount of rest, catching my eye every time I twitched out of unconsciousness. I partially returned his smile, adjusting so that my spine didn’t grate against the wall so heavily.

“No rest for the wicked, I suppose,” he mused softly, chin bobbing against the crown of Theia’s head as he spoke.