Clearly, a visit to the Daughters wouldn’t be repeated any time soon, and I hoped for all our sakes that they stayed as far away from us as possible. I didn’t know why the Oracle had sent us to them. We had thought that she was a ‘fairy godmother’… what a joke. I didn’t know if her instructions to Vita had been malevolent, but so far her ‘gifts’ and advice had landed us in deeper and deeper trouble. Anything else she passed along to us from now on would be taken with a grain of salt. I just wasn’t sure we could continue to trust her. She was Azazel’s creature now. Draven had said that visions could be interfered with…we had to consider the possibility that what the Oracle had said to us so far had been distorted by him. It was a sobering thought.
We reached the door, and I pushed it open. I glanced at Draven, his chiseled jaw clenched with the effort of not verbally expressing his pain. I laid him on the bed as gently as I could, and he muttered his thanks.
“Don’t thank me,” I replied. “You knew it was dangerous and I didn’t listen.”
He appeared too distracted by the pain to respond—just sank his head against his pillow with a grunt.
The fire was roaring in his bedroom—somehow it had managed to stay burning since we’d left—and I wished it would burn itself out. The heat in the room was stifling. I looked around for a jug of water, and found one—grossly lukewarm, but it would have to do. I poured the water in a cup next to it, and carried it over to him.
“Here,” I said, taking his hand and placing the cup in it. “Drink.”
He took a few sips, and then waved the cup away. I placed it down by the edge of the bed, and arranged the cushions under his head.
“Stop fussing,” he growled.
I stopped.
“Is there anything you need?” I asked.
“No.”
I sat myself down at the edge of the bed, planning to stay till he fell asleep.
“Let me just take off your boots,” I added. “Get you more comfortable.”
“I can do it,” he breathed. He tried to move himself into a sitting position, but winced, clutching his head as he did so.
“Let me,” I insisted, frustrated that he was such a terrible patient. He would do himself more damage if he didn’t relax. I removed his shoes, dropping them onto the floor.
“Can I syphon more of your pain?” I asked.
“I’m fine. My head hurts, that’s all.”
“Yeah, because you’ve had your eyeballs removed,” I retorted. “Just let me help, okay?”
“If you’re going to stay here just sit quietly.”
I sighed, relenting. “Fine,” I said, though I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to sit in silence. It wasn’t exactly a skill of mine. He seemed to relax at my acceptance, the tension draining from his body as he sank into the mattress.
His chest was bare, Bijarki having removed his shirt once the runes were re-drawn. Even bloodied and scarred the way he was, and covered with the healing paste, there was an undeniable beauty to his body. The ripples of muscle across his chest and torso gently moved as he drew ragged breaths, but where his skin was untouched, it appeared tanned and smooth. I shook my head, looking away.
What are you doing?
I moved to sit in the armchair by the bed, easing myself off the mattress carefully so as to not disturb him. From this angle, I could see his profile more clearly—his face had lost the tense contortions of his pain, and his eye sockets had stopped bleeding. I wondered how long it would be before the Daughters gave him his sight back. Hopefully not too long. We needed him now, more than ever.
“Serena,” he murmured, breaking the silence.
“Yes?”
“It’s now vital that you don’t leave the confines of the house and garden. You need to stay extra vigilant—promise me that. I can’t protect you like this.”
“I promise,” I replied, honestly. “I’m capable of looking after myself, and I have the others too. We won’t let anything happen—we’ll stay safe.”
“I don’t trust you, or anyone else, to protect yourself,” he whispered, and I wondered if he’d become delirious. His voice did have a spacey dream-like quality that made me think it was likely. Perhaps it was the paste we’d applied to his skin taking effect—doing more than just stemming the bleeding.
“You need to start,” I responded. “I’m not fragile—what happened with the shape-shifters on my first night won’t happen again. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Draven shook his head. He emitted a low, rasping laughter.
“You think you can depend entirely on yourself,” he replied. “You’re delusional. You need me. You’re just too stubborn to see it.”