“Where are you going?” She bites her bottom lip.
“To hunt that Nephilim,” I growl.
She pulls at the hem of my shirt, untucking it accidentally. I eye her and she blushes. “Please, don’t leave.” She stares down at the ground. “Please.”
I sigh, closing my eyes before sitting back on the bed. “Just for a while,” I concede.
“Thank you,” Briar whispers.
She lays down beside me, no pillow or blanket, and closes her eyes. I sit still, hands clasped in my lap and listening to her breathing. Her heart rate slows and a soft snore slips from her parted lips. I smile wryly. Briar doesn’t seem the type to snore, but somehow I find it endearing. I watch her shoulders slowly rise and fall. I rise, careful not to jostle her, and head to a washstand across the room. The water is still warm, and there's a clean towel draped over the side. I wet it, wringing out the extra water.
I crouch down at the end of the bed, where her feet dangle over the side, and wonder just what I'm doing. Shaking my head at myself, I lift the towel to her foot. Gently, I wipe away the dried blood and dirt to reveal the cuts beneath. They'll need treating after I clean them. But I'll have healers attend to that. My own magic is devoted to darkness and destruction and isn't suitable for healing.
Slowly, the towel is stained red and brown and gray as the rime is washed away. I re-wet the towel and wring it out two more times, staining the water in the basin brown. I clean the last bits of stubborn blood from her heels as the door opens softly again. I don’t look up, sensing Willem’s presence. Disgust oozes off of him in waves.
“What is it?” I ask, whispering so Briar won’t wake.
“We’ve commenced the hunt, I thought you might like to join,” Willem says stiffly.
I crumple the rag in my fist and rise, turning to look at my Second. His face is twisted with disdain. “Briar needs me here,” I say, carrying the towel to the basin. “I trust you to lead the hunt.”
“You would rather stay here and wash the feet of this mortal than hunt down the rogue?” Willem cocks a brow.
“We both know the real fun begins when we’ve found the rogue,” I snap. “Bring him to me when you’ve found him.”
“You’re getting soft,” Willem murmurs.
I pin him in place with a glare, curling my lip. “Careful, Willem. We may be close but I won’t tolerate insults.”
“No?” Willem retreats to the door. “What about the truth? You’re too kind to the mortal, Kane. It doesn’t suit you. And it won’t make it any easier to break her when the time comes.”
I turn away from him, back towards Briar. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I growl.
I don't wait for Willem to leave before returning to the bed. Briar is curled up on it, her now clean feet tucked under one another. Her brows are furrowed, eyes restless beneath the lids. She's dreaming. She shifts, whimpering. I brush a hand over her back absentmindedly, as if to soothe her. Briar quiets, relaxing into a deep sleep once again. I stroke her back for a few minutes, lost in the sensation of her warm body and the feeling of her heartbeat against my fingertips. Willem is right. I am getting soft.
Chapter 15
Briar
My eyes fly open and my heart beats wildly when I wake. I sit up, breathing hard, and absorb my surroundings. The harsh stone walls are gone, and the granite slab has been replaced with a soft, plush mattress. I sink down into the black duvet, sighing heavily. Light streams through the windows in thin ribbons. Heavy curtains have been drawn, blocking most of the sunlight. The walls are covered in silk wallpaper, dyed a charcoal grey with slivers of gold and navy blue rippling through.
I roll onto my back and study the canopy overhead. This is Kane’s room. Warmth spills over me from a nearby fireplace despite the lateness of the day. I’m grateful for it though while it eases my aching muscles. I’ve never run that hard or fast in my entire life, and most of it was uphill. I sigh, curling up and pulling my feet close. I feel thin scabs on the heels and balls of my feet, but they’re clean. Surprised, I brush over them again. I expected them to be covered in caked dirt and blood.
A bell in the distance chimes the hour, startling me. I stiffen, it’s well past noon. Kane is gone, probably attending to his duties. As I rise, straightening my ruined gown, I wonder why he didn’t wake me. My thoughts flash to our encounter last night and the way I attacked him before I realized who he was. My fear was so intense, I felt almost blind. I tiptoe to the door and open it slowly. The hall is empty, and I recognize it from my wanderings. I didn’t realize it led to Kane’s room though.
I feel out of place in my ragged, torn gown and mussed hair. Servants pass, but they mostly ignore me. The gothic, dark halls feel comfortable to me now and my fingers sink into the plush carpets that run throughout the castle. Even the ominous portraits on the wall feel like home. I hurry through the halls, muscles aching, and climb a staircase until I reach my room. I slip through the door and close it securely behind me. I wonder if Kane warded my room in the same way he warded his. I hope he did.
Steam floats from the bathroom and I approach it curiously. Once the steam clears, I see the room is empty, and a new set of clothes has been laid out for me. I eye the bath greedily and
