Page 79 of The Shadows Between Us
“I’m fine.”
But either he doesn’t believe me, or he doesn’t hear my answer at all, because his gloved hands sweep over me. First touching my cheeks and neck, then sliding down my sides, over my abdomen, down my legs. Checking for injuries.
But because I have none, my breathing hitches at the contact. And even though his hands are gloved, the heat of them reaches through my pant-clad legs.
By the time he finishes, he lets his gaze return to mine, and he freezes at what he sees there. His hands are wrapped around my ankles. They tighten their grip when his eyes latch on to mine, and a rush of heat steals up my spine.
His hands move to my knees, spreading them apart so he can settle there. We’re close. So close. Too close. Closer than we’ve ever been before and—
“Sire?”
We startle apart at the same time, the two of us not having even heard the sound of the guards approaching. Kallias’s shadows return in a flash, safely encasing his whole body.
Five men bearing the king’s crest on their tunics stand before us, rapiers and pistols drawn.
Kallias stands and holds out a hand to me, the shadows about the offered limb disappearing as he hauls me to my feet. He releases me once I find my balance.
“There was an attacker. I felled him over there.” Kallias points, and three of the men go in search of the body while the other two begin sweeping the area. “Take the assassin to the dungeons. If he doesn’t die from his wounds before then, send for a healer to attend to him. And also send a healer to the queen’s suite. Come, Alessandra.”
Kallias and I walk side by side to the palace. Demodocus leaps over the bench to amble along beside us, the fur about his lips wet from lapping at the king’s blood.
“Useless mutt,” Kallias says, but he looks down at his dog fondly. “He’s a lover, not a fighter. That’s for sure.”
Touching. So much touching. And heated gazes. And assassins with swords and a gun and—
“You were shot,” I say, stopping in place. “How are you uninjured?” When Kallias stops beside me, I reach out a hand to hover over the bloodspot on his coat.
“If I have time to shift into shadow before an injury kills me, the shadows will heal it.”
“I thought—” I can’t even voice aloud what I thought. It’s far too terrible.
“You placed yourself between the attacker and me.”
I did? I hadn’t been thinking. I’d just acted.
“Thank you,” he says. “But do not ever put your life on the line for mine. I can heal. You cannot.”
He resumes walking, and I stumble to follow him. I can’t seem to focus a single thought in my mind. It just replays what happened over and over again.
“What did you notice about the attacker?” Kallias asks.
Notice? I try to bring his image to mind, thinking everything through.
“He was male.” I silently curse myself. Obviously that hadn’t been what Kallias meant. Why am I struggling to remember a person I just saw minutes ago? “He wore dark clothing.”
“What kind of clothing?” Kallias prompts. I wonder for a moment why he bothers to ask me all of this when he saw the attacker for himself as well. But it feels important to answer, so I do.
“It was made of leather. The hems were lined in furs. It was… Pegain.” An assassin from the kingdom Kallias most recently conquered. The weather is cooler there. That’s why the women wear pants. The cold can’t climb up their legs.
“Good,” Kallias says, as though my answer pleases him. We enterthe palace, and Kallias remains right at my side as we climb a set of stairs.
Something niggles at the back of my mind. Something wrong. Something off about the assassin.
“I spoke with him,” I say.
“Yes, I heard.”
“His accent wasn’t Pegain. It was Naxosian.”
