Golden Boy

T H I R T Y

The morning sun filtered in through the window, illuminating Jace's face. It was hard to look at him all covered in blood, unconscious on his grandmother's couch, beaten up and inmobile. I was so used to the invincible Jace who always happened to find a way out of his problems. 

Laying in front of me was a helpless Jace. The one who couldn't fight or outsmart his way out of the hands of Haven. Someone who was tricked and blindsided and had no support to watch his back. I never got to prove myself useful last night. I never got the opportunity to warn Jace to let him know that there were people who were seriously pissed at him. 

I wasn't going to blame myself for what happened. I couldn't do that, especially since it was Jace's idea to bring me. If anything it was his fault for everything we went through. The hours of torture and interrogation that we endured were all on his shoulders. He paid for it in blood. 

Dayna came back with a steaming mug that she put to Jace's lips, lifting his head so that he could drink it. I sat up, closely paying attention to his face to see if it would work, if he would wake up and be on the road to recovery. 

Slowly, his eyes drifted open. A coughing fit immediately took over. He bent over the side of the couch, clearing his throat. Dayna passed him a glass of water that he hungrily downed in a couple of gulps. 

"Thank you," he said, passing the glass back to Dayna. She gently pushed his hair away from his face, feeling his forehead. 

"I'm pulling together a healing herb. You should be back to normal in no time," she said, patting his shoulder, leaving to enter the kitchen. 

Jace groaned, attempting to sit up. He stopped cold once he saw me sitting in the armchair. 

"Hey," he said. 

"Hey."

His eyes flickered to the bandages around my wrists and then up to search my face. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Are you?"

"I've seen better days," he grimaced. "Although nothing Dayna can't fix, I'm sure."

"Well since you're okay," I got up and crossed the room in a couple of steps and launched an attack on him. My fist made contact with his arm, quickly jabbing until I was satisfied. He flinched but didn't stop me. "I'm glad you're not dead because now I get to kill you! Do you know what I went through last night? I was tortured, Jace, tortured. With magic, might I add? With magic that some crazy bitch possessed and was convinced that by torturing me, I would reveal some answers. But to her and my dismay, I didn't have any. So you know what happened?" He watched me carefully. "She kept torturing me! That's what happened. Why are you guys able to mimic the sensation of fire within my own skin? Tell me. A part of me wished she would just kill me, but then I thought, no she can't kill me because then I wouldn't be able to come and kill you. So I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm glad you're okay too," he said, ignoring my threats and then pushing himself to his feet—or at least he attempted it. He barely made it a step away from the couch before he was collapsing under his feet. I quickly reached out to steady him, but I wasn't strong enough, and my wrists were still weak and healing. He crashed down onto the couch, dragging me down with him. I landed half on his lap and half on one of the couch pillows. I quickly moved off him, worried that I was causing him more pain. 

He swallowed hard and then laid back down on his back. "I think I'll just stay here for now."

"I'll get my revenge on you later, once you're not on your death bed."

"I look that bad?" 

I nodded. "Like if your funeral was tomorrow."

Dayna rushed back in with a small teacup filled with a pretty purple liquid that smelled of raspberries. "Don't tell him that," she chastised. "You look fine, Jace," Dayna insisted. Jace looked at me and I shook my head.