Ilyan said nothing as he led me back into the darkness of the cave away from everyone else. His shield moved around us to block us from view as we walked. We didn’t move far, only far enough that we were out of earshot, where the only light was the faded glow of the fire. Everything around us was chilled and cast in shadow.
“Did Ilyan leave?” Thom suddenly said from behind us, his gruff voice filled with exaggerated mocking. “I really wanted him to tuck me in, too.”
My head spun around at his voice just in time to see Wyn smack him upside the head while Dramin chuckled from the other side of the tunnel. I couldn’t help but smile at the exchange, something about it so normal and familiar even though I could feel Ilyan’s frustration usurp the humor in it.
“Does everyone know?” I whispered, my nerves flying rapidly through me as I asked the question.
Ilyan smiled, his joy streaming through me as he moved me against the wall. I leaned against the cold rock as his hand rested against the cave wall right next to my head, his body moving closer to me until I was trapped with only an inch of air between us.
“Everyone knows,” he said, his smiling eyes meeting mine before his lips twitched and he lowered himself to inspect the blood-stained gash on the hoodie, and the mutilated flesh underneath.
“We need to take this off.” Ilyan didn’t wait for me to answer; he just balled the thick fabric as he lifted the heavy hoodie over my head, his movements careful as he worked to keep my shirt in place and the braid untouched.
I closed my eyes as the fabric passed overhead, only opening them at the touch of Ilyan’s hand against my shoulder, the sound of fabric against stone as he dropped the hoodie to the ground.
Ilyan wasn’t looking at me, though; his eyes were focused on the massive red stain on the shirt. The glistening patches of my own blood appearing twice as bad in the dim light of the cave. Ilyan’s hands dragged down my bare arms as he kneeled before me again, his hands squeezing mine before he let me go, his eyes focused intently on my abdomen.
He lifted my shirt as his hands brushed against my stomach, revealing the layer of blood that had dried against me.
The warmth of his breath ran over me as his fingers moved over my abdomen, his chest tight in worry. He said nothing as he grabbed the hoodie off the ground, pressing it against my bare stomach as his magic surged through the fabric. The fabric warmed against my skin as he pulled the water out of the air and into it, giving him a chance to clean the blood that covered me.
His movements were slow and gentle as he cleaned me until all that was left was a long, raised brown scar the stretched over my navel and down toward my hipbone, right where the Trpaslík’s blade had cut through me.
Ilyan sucked in a pained breath as he saw the ugly scar, his fingertips tracing along the long, dark line as I held my breath. His touch was soft as his heartbeat faltered, his regret flooding into me. I could see it in his eyes and hear the thoughts of failure as my stomach tightened.
I reached forward and ran my hand over the soft feathers of his hair before he looked up to me, his eyes wide as he pled for forgiveness.
“You didn’t fail me, Ilyan,” I whispered. “You healed me; you got me out alive. This is not failure.”
He said nothing as he looked at me before he closed his eyes, his regret melting away. He looked down, leaning forward until his lips pressed against the long, ugly scar that I knew I would always have. His magic surged through me at the touch, my stomach tightening as the intimate touch jolted through me.
His lips lingered as his magic flowed to check for any internal injuries he might have missed. I moved down carefully to kneel in front of him, my knees digging into the hard stone as I met him eye to eye in the darkness of the cave.
I could still see the regret, feel his worry. It hurt that I couldn’t take away that feeling of failure. It was more than just my injury that was bothering me, though; it was failure of another kind.
“I will kill him, Ilyan,” I whispered, my voice hard with the conviction I knew he shared. “I know the sight has changed, but I will find a way.”
“I know you will. I will fight alongside you,” he said, his voice soft as his hand moved over my shoulder and down to my elbow. “Let’s just hope we can get to Prague before the Vil?s do too much damage and the city is lost.”
After everything that had happened, I had almost forgotten about everything that I had seen in the sight that I had shared with Sain before Dramin had awakened. Just hearing Ilyan speak about it—feeling his worry for his home—brought the images into my mind along with Sain’s promise that the sight had already happened.
But it hadn’t already happened. Dramin had told me that past sights were always dimmed, the pictures and voices echoed. These were clear as day. What was more, I had been in them. I had been running into the rock wall; I had been sitting on the rooftop.
I don’t know why Sain would have said they had already happened; why he would have lied. I had watched as the sky rained with Vil?s. I had seen a small child screaming amongst the rubble...