Lancaster contemplated me for a moment. “My kind—fae—our magic is blood based, regardless of the class. Even my creation bound powers derive from the blood, which means we are extra sensitive to tainted sources. When the leaching power spread so quickly through my body, I assumed it was a result of the blood that creature forced into my stream.”
“The gorgon,” I corrected. “One of Echnid’s personal mistresses from another realm, or something of the sort.”
“Gorgon,” he repeated. “I am sure my sister is having a field day with those legends.”
“Shehasbeen working closely on investigating them, apparently.” I handed Lancaster the letter in which Ophelia had explained what they suspected thus far about gorgons and Echnid’s goal of raising a demigod force. It was the last one I’d received. Only silence had sustained since.
As Lancaster took the parchment, his fingers brushed mine. The tangled scents of flowers washed over me, less roses and more something unique that I couldn’t name. Something new and bountiful. The soft hum vibrated in my chest.
The male’s eyes darkened, but he carried on. I shook away the sensation as he read, and by the time he was nodding in understanding of the horror that had attacked us, I’d collected myself.
“What did you mean your kind issensitiveto blood?” I asked.
Once, he wouldn’t have answered. He would have stormed away in a huff, making a joke about my lack of knowledge as a short-lived mortal.
Now, Lancaster pushed himself up straighter, shirtless muscles tensing as he reclined against the headboard. His features open and much more relaxed than I’d expected upon his waking.
“I should not share this.” There it was. Secrets of the fae. But he went on, and I tried to hide my surprise. “Fae magic is more complex than we lead our enemies to believe. There are a number of unique facets. One of which—the most useful if you ask me—is the ability to absorb power from the blood of another.”
Absorb another’s power? “Does that mean…”
“If we drink one’s blood or consume it in any way, a fae temporarily engages their power.”
I blinked, unable to hide my shock this time. “Anypower?”
“Any power, Bounty.” He nodded. “It is one of the best kept secrets of our kind. Blood exchanges are closely monitored among fae. They are only meant to be used in extreme cases.”
That was dangerous. A way to outsmart any enemy if you could simply get your hands on their blood, like when the gorgon forced her sliced wrist against his lips. And with those sharpened canines peeking out as Lancaster spoke, it couldn’t be hard to do.
“Ritalia did it,” Lancaster said. Was that derision in his voice? “That night in the mountains when she burned Ophelia’s weapons. That was not her magic. I do not know which soldier she took it from—she hid our powers as much as possible—but it was not hers.”
A form of summoning magic. Or perhaps a contrast to Lancaster’s, where he created, she destroyed. A balance, as our entire world and every realm in existence was built on.
“Do you think you absorbed the gorgon’s power when it fed you its blood?” I asked.
He toyed with the sheet as he thought. “If I hadn’t fainted, I think I would have absorbed it. But it appears whatever poisonshe carried was stronger than the absorbing power. I’d wager other facets of my magic battled the toxins off enough to keep me alive.”
“Healing magic?” I asked, my eyes dropping to my hands. Suddenly, my own healing capabilities felt so useless. I’d stirred tonics, applied compresses to his skin, and cleaned his wounds, but that was truly all I could have done against this.
For the first time, incapability curved my shoulders in.
Unexpectedly, a finger was beneath my chin, tilting my eyes up. “Healing magic, yes. But also other things. Things no healer—no matter their strength, intelligence, or origins—could have provided.”
Gods, how had he known that thought was going through my mind? He saw straight through me, to the wounds I kept hidden. The belief I rarely indulged that because I was human, I was smaller. It did not lift its head often, but when it did, the thought struck deep. As if because it was neglected, it gathered power for the times I unintentionally set it free.
Lancaster’s skin burned into mine, his eyes searching as he ensured I heard his words—ensured I felt them deep to those hidden parts of myself. Why? Why was he being…kind? I was a Bounty; he was a Hunter. Natural-born enemies, divided by the instincts to kill one another.
And yet he looked at me with a softness I’d only seen him direct at his sister. Perhaps it was gratitude for keeping him comfortable while his body healed. But I owed him after he saved my life.
“How did you do it?” I forced out, voice as small as I’d felt a moment ago.
“Do what, Santorina?” His skin still burned into mine, that unfamiliar floral scent ladening the air. And the way he said my name…I’d never heard him say anyone’s name like that.
“How did you rip off the gorgon’s head with your bare hands? They’re supposed to be difficult to kill.”
Lancaster’s jaw ticked, and he dropped his arm. A cold settled across my skin as he sat back against the pillows. “I was…angry.”
“Why?”
