“I’m not sure.” He sounds hesitant, eyes squinted with worry.
“Altair.” My voice is soft. “You haven’t got much time. We can all sense it on you.”
He closes his eyes, brows furrowed. “Alright.”
“Good,” I say. And I mean it.
I lead him to the fringe of the camp, out of sight except for Thal. He lifts his chin, tossing me a silent question. I give him a double thumbs-up, forcing a smile to my lips even though my heart is tearing itself in two. Thal knows, he sees past me every time. His eyes tell me so. Altair drifts to a halt behind me, looking defeated.
“What do I have to do?” Altair asks.
“It’s what I do,” I say, turning to him. I clear my throat. “Take off your shirt.”
“What?” He blinks at me.
I wave a hand. “Take off your shirt.”
Hesitantly, Altair tugs the cotton tunic over his head, letting it drop to the ground. I run my tongue over my lips, trying unsuccessfully not to stare. His chest is chiseled and hard, sharp muscles carving lines into his flesh that I could trace my fingers over all day. He’s thinner than he was before we started the journey, but we all are. My heart is racing, heat flushing through me. I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the paper in my hand.
“Now what?” He asks, his voice rough with emotion and fatigue.
“Lay down,” I say, dropping my gaze.
He obeys without hesitation this time and I kneel beside his chest. His eyes are on me, but there’s no desire or arrogance in his gaze. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself. I need to draw the magic to me. The blood will help. But my own fear could stop me from drawing on the magic of the runes. I bite back a hiccup as I try to convince myself of what I have to do next.
Breathing deeply, I draw a dagger from my waistband. I finally meet Altair’s eyes and furrow my brows fearfully. “This will hurt.”
Altair hisses as I make my first cut across his chest. I do my best to ignore the quiet, subdued sounds of his pain, but my fingers are shaking. I carve the runes into his chest, being careful not to dig too deep. In the distance, I see Thal watching us worriedly. I wonder if he thinks I’m punishing Altair for what happened earlier. But seeing his sorrow was punishment enough. I grit my teeth, trying to work faster before I lose my nerve.
Blood drips down his ribs and pools in the lines of his muscle. I watch it spill into the sand, making little red clumps. Altair’s hands are clenched into fists at his side, his teeth bared while he bites back a shout. The rune is large, larger than I intended, but somehow it feels right. Anything smaller wouldn’t have the power I need. I feel the magic swirling around me as I slip my knife across his flesh in the few, final marks. When the tip of my dagger leaves his skin, he looses a long breath.
“Shit,” he hisses, dropping his head to the sand.
I grip the hilt tighter until my knuckles are white. The magic tickles at my ears, running over me like feathers. Serus has joined us, prowling by my side. His amber eyes give me permission. I wilt a little. “I can’t,” I murmur to him.
“Say the words,” he says commandingly.
“I take this curse from you,” I say, fear lacing my voice, “As I take your blood.”
Altair's eyes go wide as I raise the dagger over his chest. He rolls away and my blade buries itself in the sand where his heart once was. I glance up, fear and despair at what I've just attempted streaking through me. His eyes are filled with shock and pain. We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, until his hand lashes out at me. I topple back into the sand, pain flaring on my shoulder where his fist connected with my body.
“Altair!” I cry, rolling onto my stomach in time to see him sprint into the darkness of the ruins. I scramble to my feet, stumbling over myself in my rush to stand. “Altair, come back!”
“Verity, stop!” Thal shouts. He’s at my side in an instant, his hand curled around my arm in a vice-like grip. “You can’t go out there, it’s too dangerous.”
“Altair is out there,” I argue, pulling away.
He holds me fast. “Altair can handle himself.”
We freeze as another howl cuts through the air, chilling me to the bone. “No,” I say breathlessly, tearing out of Thal’s grip. I slip away from him before he can snag me again and tear out into the night. “Altair!”
Chapter 17
Altair
Verity’s knife is like a hot iron, burning my skin with strange sigils. Her eyes are half-closed and her eyelids flutter as she murmurs to herself. The air ripples around her, like a mirage under the hot sun and I know she’s wrapped up in magic. I clench my jaw, trying to fight against the pain. I glance down at my chest, at the circle she’s etched into my flesh. It’s split into five, uneven sections, with symbols in each one.
I drop my head back onto the sand. As she finishes each rune, I feel the curse welling up inside me, rising up to my throat. I swallow it down, but it only makes the process more painful. My eyes dart to Verity again, and I wonder if she could truly be powerful enough to break this curse. But then I feel myself faltering, my vision blurring, and the curse scratches at me. She completes the last sigil with a flourish of her blade.
Her familiar slinks around us, its eyes locked on the spell
