I stiffen at his proximity.
His voice is gentler this time. “I know you are hurt. Let me help you.”
I try to think reasonably, but I’m finding it’s rather difficult between the pain and the huge Underling standing only an inch behind me. I either let him help me, or I continue to pretend like shrugging off this robe isn’t straining seven different muscles and further injuring my ribs.
I give in, just this once, and sigh,“Fine, Lord Atlys. If that’s what you want.”
“I want you to call me Atlys,” he whispers into the crook of my neck, eliciting an eruption of shivers from the crown of my head to my toes.
“Atlys.” I turn my head slightly to the side, looking down at my shoulder where one of his tattooed hands now rests. “You and I both know I need to heal faster so that I’m ready for the next task.”
“Yes, little human.”
“A human named Akemi,” I snap, annoyed.
“You are as fiery as the sun,” he says approvingly, slowly lifting off my robe. His hands glide down my arm, leaving a trail of fire in my veins. And for a moment, I believe him, that perhaps there is a part of me that is as hot as the sun.
Next, he unties the cotton strings at the back of my beige infirmary dress. The fabric falls in a puddle around my feet. I hear Atlys suck in a quick breath.
I stand fully exposed, facing away from him, though I know he is looking. I can feel his eyes scan my bruised ribs as if he is judging each mark, evidence of how dreadfully weak his champion really is. I step out of my slippers, trying to muster a semblance of strength, only to find my knees weaken and give out.
Atlys is there to catch me. Swinging one arm under my knees and another around my back. And, sun burn me, tears begin to fall down my cheeks in earnest. I’m not sure if they are from the pain I feel coursing throughout my body, embarrassment of this whole situation, or my failure to place better in the first task of the Summit.
Exhaustion curls over me in waves.
I rest my head against Atlys’ chest. He looks furious. Jaw clenched, eyebrows knit in concentration. Tiny pebbles dislodgefrom the ceiling as his power rumbles throughout the cave. Essences of his shadowed wings begin to form behind him. Still fully clothed, he carries me into the water.
The Source ripples around him. No, fromwithinhim.
I wonder if I should be terrified, but I only just relax further into his arms—the arms of my enemy.
“Rest, my Sunrise,” Atlys whispers. “Let the water heal you.”
He holds me as I cry.
He holds me as I heal.
He holds me, even still, when I am dreaming.
26
The Moon Stone
“And what makes Earth different from the other planets in our solar system?” Professor Allor asks. Soft afternoon light from the cloud-covered sky seeps through the windows of the Old World History classroom, spotting the wooden desks in either complete light or darkness. Luckily, my head is in one of the dark spots. I get headaches before storms, and the overcast light is especially bright as it reflects off the snow. A rare winter thunderstorm is rolling in from the distance.
Ramona is not as lucky. Among others, her seat is bathed in so much light that she is squinting and frequently contorting her posture to see the professor.
Professor Allor does not seem to notice half of the class’s plight as she paces at the front of her room. Her flowing Watcher blue cloak is clasped around a matching dress and brushes the ground as she walks. Her collar is starched and high on her neck, tucked neatly below her angular jaw and sunken cheeks.
Selene raises her hand, shoulder brushing against Ramona’s.
“Besides the copious amounts of life forms, of course, our core is larger than other planets.”
“Correct. And what year was our planet formed?”
No one answers.
I pick at my nails and cannot seem to stay focused. I should be thankful for Healer Panacea’s quick discharge from the infirmary this morning, but I keep feeling guilty for misleading her. She thinks I took to her Moon’cher treatments better, when really, the Source springs did all the work. Part of me feels a little guilty for sneaking out, but when I recall how much pain I was in before, the guilt fades away. I look out the window at the bruised clouds, billowing plumes of gray and blue, heavy with rain that will turn to snow as it plummets to the ground.
