A long moment passed before he opened his eyes, and he seemed to have a hard time focusing. He dragged in a breath that sounded like a death rattle, and his face went even paler. “Down the hall.” He coughed. “Kitchen cupboard above the stove. Blue bottle.”
A small amount of relief trickled through me, though I was terrified he might die if I took my eyes off him for a second.
Shoving this fear aside, I released his hair and tore down the wood-paneled hallway. Faelight illuminated brass wall sconces along my path and ignited the candles in the chandelier that hung from the kitchen ceiling.
Despite the lavish gothic style of the manor, Kaden’skitchen was surprisingly modern. Dark stone countertops flanked the walls, and appliances with shiny brass handles and dials gleamed in the winking faelight.
Pulling myself up onto the counter, I threw open the cupboard above the stove and rummaged around until I found a curved blue bottle small enough to fit in the palm of my hand.
Snatching it up, I leapt off the counter and sprinted back down the hallway, careening into the sitting room.
Kaden’s eyes were closed once again — his face so pale he might have been a corpse. My heart pounded against my ribs as I unstoppered the bottle and lifted his head off the back of the settee.
He didn’t move a muscle — didn’t even open his eyes as I pressed the bottle to his lips. I had no idea what the correct dosage was, so I emptied the contents into his mouth a few drops at a time.
Kaden coughed as it hit the back of his throat, but I tipped his chin up and forced him to swallow.
A few lines appeared along his flawless brow, and I guessed that the antivenom tasted terrible.
He didn’t open his eyes, and my chest tightened.
Maybe I’d been too late.
Hot tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and I let my head fall onto the cushions to rest beside his. For several minutes, I watched for the rise and fall of his chest — the rhythm so erratic that I felt certain each breath would be his last.
My eyes grew heavy, but I forced myself to watch — as if I couldwillhim to stay alive.
A tiny voice in the back of my head wondered when I’dcome to care whether Kaden lived or died, but I was too exhausted to answer it.
My eyelids drooped as I sank deeper into the velvet cushions. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was Kaden’s smug grin as he turned to face me.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
It was still dark when I awoke. At least Isensedthat it was still night. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn over the windows. I wasn’t in the sitting room anymore.
I was lying in a four-poster bed large enough to fit twelve, which was made up with sheets such a deep shade of green they might have been mistaken for black. They felt pleasantly cool against my skin, offset by the warmth of the fire crackling in an enormous stone grate.
The flames cast a soft glow over the room, allowing me to take in my surroundings. Tiny gold stars adorned the ceiling above me, which told me I was still in the House of Guile. They were reminiscent of the ones in the upstairs parlor, and the heavy wood furniture and dark green palette matched the aesthetic of the other parts of the house.
To my relief, none of the creepy carvings leered over me, but when I pushed myself into an upright position, I found myself facing a stunning assortment of steel that gleamed along the wood-paneled walls.
My mouth fell open.
Weapons — dozens of them — hung from racks on the wall opposite the bed. Daggers of every shape and size: short swords, broadswords, throwing stars, battle axes, and even the odd scythe.
The way the weapons were arranged, I could tell the owner treasured them as much as any work of art. The way I would, I realized.
That’s when it hit mewhosebed I was in.
With a jolt of alarm, I threw back the covers, but I was still wearing most of my clothes. Only my jacket and boots were missing, along with my weapons belt.
I glanced at the chair beside the bed and let out a slow exhale when I saw my holster.
Kaden must be somewhat recovered if he had carried me up to his bedroom. It made me slightly uneasy that I’d slept right through it, though it was possible he’d used some dark fae magic to levitate me up here.
Lifting my arm, I gave an experimental sniff and shuddered. The stench of the Watchman’s fortress still lingered on my skin — that salty odor of death and decay.
