The room was dark. It was nighttime out. Her brain reminded her that the sun had been rising when they had left the Outpost, so she’d been asleep for the better part of a day—at least. It could have been more, but she doubted it. Her wounds would be far more healed if that much more time had passed.
Her sleep-addled brain moved on to the next question. Where was she? Scanning the room, she realized it was familiar.
Why am I in Altair’s room?
She sat up straight, wincing slightly at the motion, but it didn’t hurt as bad as she thought. The pain was fading swiftly. Another few hours and she would be completely back to normal.
The sound of someone breathing alerted her to the fact that she wasn’t alone in the room. Using a tiny bit of energy, she flung a spark of light into the air to see who else was there.
An empty chair sat near the doorway. The breathing was coming from under it. Sitting forward she leaned over the edge of the bed. As she suspected, it was Altair. He was passed out, his foot pressed against the door.
Some might have assumed that it was just how he had slept, but with the positioning of the chair as well, it told Christine a different story. He had placed himself there, ensuring nobody could enter without him knowing.
It was a protective measure.
“Altair,” she said quietly.
His eyes snapped open instantly, focusing on her. He got to his feet in a rush.
“What is it? Is everything okay? Are you alright?” he asked, concern etched into his features, his brow knitting as he looked her over, trying to spot the problem.
“I’m okay,” she said, reassuring him. “I promise.”
“They said you would sleep till morning. Why are you awake?” he asked once she’d finally calmed him down.
“Following orders isn’t always my strong suit I guess,” she said.
“You need your rest,” he said.
“I’m fine,” she said forcefully. “It’s just a wound. I got back here, I got treated. I’m fine now, I promise.”
Altair snorted.
“What?”
“You didn’t get yourself back here,” he corrected. “You passed out and fell from the sky like a stone.”
Christine’s heart raced. She had? Concentrating, she tried to remember the last few moments of alertness. What had she been doing?
Pain. She’d felt pain and turned to look at her side. She could recall the shock of it, the surprise that she’d been hurt. Pulling the gremlin tooth from her side. Remembering that they were filled with venom.
Then nothing.
“Oh shit,” she whispered. “How am I alive...” Her brain connected the dots for her. “You,” she said quietly. “You saved me, and brought me here?”
Altair shrugged. “I happened to look back and see you fall. It’s no big deal. Anyone would have done it.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But you did. Thank you, Altair. I owe you my life.”
“Please no,” he said. “I wasn’t about to let you die. That’s just rude after all. And I’m not the rude one.”
She frowned at his snarky response. “Really? Cause you’re acting like it now.”
He rolled his eyes. “I caught you out of mid-air. Brought you back to Winterspell. Took care of you when nobody else was. There’s food and drink on your bedside. I’ve been standing—well, lying—down, ensuring nobody can come disturb you while you heal. Yes, I am the rude one.”
“Why am I in your quarters?” she asked, her eyes drawn to the water and bread on the side table. She was famished. Her stomach was already growling at her, telling her to put food in it.
“Your building was on alert. Everyone going crazy. I brought you here to sleep better, so you could heal.” He shrugged. “No other reason.”
“Well, thank you,” she said.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“You know, would it kill you to not be a dick to me for thirty-seconds?” she snapped, anger brushing aside the last of her sleep. “I just woke up from a magically induced healing coma. I’m a little out of it, and a lot hungry. I really do not want to get into it with you right now, but if you refuse to be nice, then I will.”
Altair snorted. “Why do I need to be nice to someone like you? Look where it got me last time.”
“Someone like me?” she shouted. “Altair, you don’t even know me!”
“Oh, please. I know exactly who you are. What you are. You’re a manipulative witch who used me to make herself look better for the other witches, so you could be put in command of the response team.”
He said it with such utter conviction that it took Christine several long moments of staring in disbelief to even process the logic he was using.
“You’re joking, right?”
“I’m not joking. I’m right.”
“No, you aren’t,” she snapped, laughing in his face. “Not even remotely so.”
“What do you mean?” he said hotly, glaring at her as she continued to chuckle.
“For me to tell you, you’d have to stop making all sorts of assumptions about me first. Then you could ask me, and maybe you’d know. But until you’re ready to be a mature adult about everything, I’m not going to waste my breath on you, Altair. Now thanks for the bread and water and for saving my life, but I’m done defending myself to you over something I didn’t do!”
Altair leaned back, staring at her for a long time.
“What do you mean, you didn’t do?” he asked in a calmer, inquisitive voice.
For the second time in five minutes, Christine was caught totally by surprise at his attitude change. She looked at him, trying to puzzle him out. Just when she thought she was getting a handle on him, he went and showed that he was capable of much more than she thought.
“Here,” she said softly, pulling something out of her upper robe pocket. There were some streaks of blood on it, but it
