Holding my eyes, Lancaster’s hand grazed my waist; warmth shot through my veins and the scent of bloody roses swarmed me.
He removed the cypher dagger from my side. Instantly, the Bounty voice cried out, feeling defenseless. I bit my lip against it, tightening my fists over the needles shooting to my fingertips, trying to tug them to snatch the weapon back.
Lancaster’s sharp, unceasing gaze dropped to my mouth and he sucked in a breath, eyes trailing down to my clenched hands. He noted every straining defense I held, marking them.
Then, he sank to the sand before me. Gently, not moving fast enough to trigger the Bounty, he loosened the laces of my boot enough to slip the blade against my ankle. His nimble fingers tightened it, and he angled his head up at me.
“How is that?” he asked. Was his voice rougher than usual?
I searched his unflinching stare, that understanding tone from before repeating in my mind, rioting with the lethal reflexes and canines peeking against his parted lips. This fae I was born to slaughter—who was bred to slaughter me—was on his knees in the sand before me. He was trying to help me stifle the instincts I loathed. And I didn’t know what to make of it.
When I took a moment to answer, Lancaster gripped my ankle, squeezing. I jolted at the shock it sent through my body.
“Good,” I answered. “That’s good.”
He pushed to his feet and slung each of our packs across his back. On most people, it would look uncomfortable, but he was broad enough that he adjusted them easily.
“I’m going to pick you up now,” Lancaster said. “Please don’t stab me. I’d prefer to at least get to our first stopping point before I need to deal with blood.”
A genuine laugh bubbled up my throat at that, and Lancaster didn’t smile, but he relaxed at the sound.
One of his hands slipped around my back, fingers curling against my ribs, and the other swept my legs out from under me. He moved so quickly, taking off into the trees, that my arms automatically latched around his neck.
The wind lashed my hair back from my face as he ran. Goddess, it was freeing. The sand and trees whipping around us, the way it all blurred together, yet we ducked and averted every possible collision. It was like flying but close enough to the earth to see its beauty.
It was so magnificent, I was able to ignore the Bounty instinct screeching inside me. To ignore the prickling of heat in my spineand ribs and let my hands rest against Lancaster’s shoulders without fear of losing control.
Chapter Sixteen
Tolek
Milaand I walked through the sandy streets of Xenovia, woven tarps stretching across the alleys to keep them shaded in the hot spring sun.
“How did it go?” I asked her as we made our way to the blacksmith.
“Same as always,” she responded dully, twisting sideways to avoid a man carrying a crate of jewelry. “The warrior was old, it was his natural time, and he was nearly gone when we arrived. I couldn’t guide his spirit home, so I clearly did not absorb Soulguider magic in that river.” She sighed, a mix of relief and frustration. “Erista’s sister guided him quickly and quietly.”
“And you felt nothing?” I asked.
She shook her head. She’d been going on these house calls with Erista and her twin sister for weeks, trying to lure out any power that may have latched onto her when she was under the Spirit River in the Gates of Angeldust.
So far, nothing.
Mila was always frustrated when she returned to Meridat’s manor after the tests, so I’d accompanied her today. She’d said it was unnecessary, but Lyria would have done it.
I needed to get out of that manor anyway. I still could barely sit in a room with Cypherion without snapping over him making me stay here or him asking me what I was scheming. Every time I did, Mila suggested we go for a walk.
We’d spent a lot of time wandering the capital aimlessly, theorizing. And I’d needed a distraction, trying not to think of what date yesterday had been.
“I know you don’t think?—”
“I know what you’re going to say, Tolek,” Mila interrupted as we turned a corner, the street opening onto a square rimmed by various shops, a fountain sprawling through the center, low and expansive. “But don’t. There are lingering...” Her words trailed off.
“Mila?” I asked, hand on my sword. Her attention was honed on a woman across the square, sniffing flowers outside a florist stand. “Do you know that woman?”
Mila tilted her head, lips popping open and eyes blinking rapidly. A haze settled across her vision.
“Mila?” I repeated.
