A Dawn of Onyx (The Sacred Stones, #1)(24)

Defensiveness flooded me. “What do you mean, why? He’s my brother. I couldn’t let the Onyx bastards kill him.”

His eyes bored into mine. A mix of coldness and curiosity.

“Why did you think your life was worth less than his?” His words were not at all what I was expecting.

“I—I didn’t… It’s not like that.” For some reason, my face had flushed.

Growing up, I had always envied Ryder. Men wanted to be friends with him, women wanted to be with him. Powell and my mother adored him. In their eyes, he could do no wrong. With that came an incredible sense of self-assurance that in turn only made him more successful at everything he attempted.

Maybe I had felt like if someone had to make the sacrifice, better it was me than him. Shame coated my tongue, rang through my ears. My cheeks felt hot. I looked down at the wound I was cleaning. The sooner I could get him out of here the better. The prisoner watched me carefully, and I hid from his prying eyes and finished my work.

Once the wound was clean and dressed with ointments, I began to stitch him up. He lay still, barely flinching as I sewed through his skin.

It was now or never. I was almost done—

I thought of the lieutenant, the fact that King Ravenwood was somewhere in this castle, and weighed my next words carefully. I only had one chance at this.

“I could use your help.”

His eyebrows shot up, but he waited for me to continue. I turned around the truth in my mind. I couldn’t trust this man, of course, but time was running out. As soon as he was healed, he’d be gone, and with him, my only chance at freedom.

As if he saw me debating whether to open up, he said, “You’ve helped me quite a bit—let me return the favor.”

I swallowed against the bile burning in my throat.

“Help me escape. You’ve clearly had success in doing exactly that. Take me with you, please.”

His brows pulled together, but he didn’t say anything. I finished my last stitch and began wrapping the wound in bandages.

“Can’t. Sorry. I still have some business to attend to here.”

Business?

“You’re a fugitive,” I said, a laugh that was more shock than anything else slipping out. “What business do you have other than getting out of this Stones-forsaken place alive?”

Maybe it was his ego—maybe he needed me to beg him for help. I wasn’t above that. I’d do whatever I had to do. He grinned and sat up, taking the last few bandages from my hands and finishing the job himself.

“A fair point from a wise woman, but sadly I can’t tell you much more, except that the woods around Shadowhold are fierce and filled with creatures I wouldn’t advise you to face alone.”

“So I’ve heard. Is that how you got this injury? Something took a bite out of you on your way out?”

A laugh breezed out of him, and he winced. “You’re not so far off.”

He swung his legs around and stood up gingerly.

“Wait,” I motioned back to the bed. “I wasn’t done. One last ointment.”

His brow furrowed but he gestured toward himself as if to say fine, hurry up then.

I grabbed a healing salve and crossed the room to stand beside him. Stones, he was tall. He towered over me. Even misted in sweat and pale from blood loss his beauty was painful. Heartbreaking.

And he really needed to put a shirt on. I took a tentative breath and slipped my hands under the bandages with the guise of applying the ointment. His breath hitched at my touch, and I let droplets of my power spill out into his skin and pull his ripped flesh together, reinforcing the stitches and calming the swelling.

“Why won’t you help me? I won’t be a burden to you. I promise.”

I peered up at him.

His eyes were soft, but wounded. Maybe he was just in a great deal of pain from his injury.

“I’m sorry, bird. I fear you’re needed here.”

I pulled my hands away and his gaze dragged over me, slow and savoring and shockingly intimate. The space between us crackled.

Using my powers always drained me a little, and I could feel a slight fatigue beginning to set in. His eyes narrowed and he stepped even closer, his bewitching woody scent filling my senses.

“Are you all right?”

“Just tired.”

He nodded. “Happens to me too.”

My brows knit inward. “You… get tired?”

It almost looked like his cheeks were flushing, but before he could respond the loud slam of the apothecary door swinging open in the next room pulled his gaze from mine. Without missing a beat, the man shot me an apologetic smile and hoisted himself out the window.

“Shit!” I whisper-shrieked, running around the table to the windowsill, but he was out with a grunt before I could stop him. I looked down at the dusty ground below and drew in a true gasp.

He was gone.

How?

I spun around right as a handsome man with honey hair and clear green eyes like sea glass came barreling into the room.

My chest expanded as I tried to remember to breathe. Adrenaline still simmered in my veins.

“Where is he?” The broad-shouldered man was almost as tall as the prisoner, and possibly stronger. He wore an Onyx uniform with glistening studs along the black leather harness. Turning in circles, he inspected the small room. Then, his threatening, vicious gaze dragged over me.