Page 29 of The Blood Queen

Her eyes finally lift to mine. There’s no humor in them, though she smiles. “Fae magic.”

She tips the tincture onto a small square of cloth and extends it to me.

I reach to take it from her. My hand’s shaking where I hold one side of the cloth; she holds the other.

Alyth’s eyes slip shut.

Her fingers unwind from the cloth, and she releases it into my hand.

She removes my cloak from her shoulders, baring her wounds fully, and I get to work wiping the tincture gently onto her cuts.

Seeing each one, I catalog them. How deep, how long, how wide.

The High Blade’s gonna get cuts to match. Every. Single. One.

“You have to trust me here,” she says into the stillness of the crackling fire.

My focus goes from her wounds to her face. She’s watching me. Those midnight eyes. They’re glossy and bloodshot and full of so much pain, so much grief, that I want to gather her in my arms and never let her go.

Her words penetrate my mind like moving through syrup. I think, if she was at all rested, her tone would be biting. But it’s faint and brittle.

“I know this place, Samson,” she continues. “I know these creatures. You make demands like that to the wrong being, and you’ll die. Painfully, slowly. I can’t—” She sucks in a breath. “Just trust me, please? Defer to me from now on.”

My hand goes to her chin before I can think better of it.

She doesn’t pull away.

So I hold it there, stroking her jaw, some of that tincture glistening on my thumb and putting a shiny streak on her face. “I won’t pretend what they’ve done to you is all right. I won’t play their games if it’s at your expense.” A smile fights its way onto my face. “Besides, your father will like me, apparently.”

It just makes her wince, riles her to vexation. “That was a threat. You don’t want to become the fascination of any fae. If they find you amusing, they’ll find a way to keep you, like a game stuffed on a shelf they take down for entertainment. Please, Samson.” She grabs the neckline of my ruined doublet, tugging me closer. “Please, listen to me. I know you want to… I know you think you need to…”

She stumbles to silence, her glassy eyes overflowing until a tear tracks down her cheek.

I catch it, smooth it away. She leans into the gesture with a hum of contentment I feel more than hear, vibrations deep in her throat.

“I won’t make more trouble for you,” I tell her. Promise her. “That’s the last thing I want. But I can’t stand aside and let you be on your own anymore. I need everyone here to know that I’m yours, that you’ve got me at your back.”

“I don’t need you at my back,” she says. “I need you at my side.”

My throat swells, and I clear it forcefully, eyes burning. I nod. “I can do that.” I can try.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” she whispers. “I know it wasn’t you.”

I grab up the tincture bottle, rewet the cloth, and get back to work.

“Did you hear me?” she presses. “You don’t have to—”

“Stop, Alyth.” I hold her gaze. “I want to take care of you. I need you to be all right.”

I’m gasping. Can barely stand to look at her through the wanting, so I refocus on tending her wounds.

But the only thing left is the circle I made on her collarbone.

I can’t breathe.

That dagger was in my hand. I see it move. See it carve her open. See the blood drip, drip—

She kisses me.