Author's Note: Two things. First of all, I'm doing WattPad book reviews now on YouTube! If you'd like to see my first WattPad book reviews video, I'll leave it under conversations in my profile.
Secondly, I wanted to tell you guys that the plot might... take a darker turn. I don't write dark things just for the heck of it. Each and every event in this story has a purpose, so no matter what happens, just trust me on this 😉
*ahem* Now, with that ominous note out of the way, on with the story!
***
Viltus clenched his jaw and nodded his head towards Garma's house.
She turned in the direction of his nod in time to see Garma's shutters clatter shut.
"I'll carry you inside, and we'll continue this discussion there. I don't believe either of us wants to have an audience."
"Fine."
He bent to pick her up, but her pointed finger stopped him.
"Minus you carrying me."
A frown darkened his expression. "You're in no condition to—"
She rolled to her hands and knees—and gasped as she nearly crumbled beneath a wave of pain. Her chest felt like it was going to rip open at the seams.
Viltus swept her into his arms, and she offered no further protest. Though his movements were gentle, the slight jostle of each step jarred her entire frame. She swallowed a whimper.
By the time he set her onto the cot, sweat beaded her hairline. She turned her face away from him. Over the weeks, she'd grown accustomed to some of the pain, but now she felt each wound acutely: the sting across her back, the fire gnawing at her forearm, the cuts piercing her skin, the searing burn on her cheek.
Her chest tightened in a sob, and fire crackled across her ribs.
Viltus pressed a hand to the lower curve of her ribcage, and she bit her tongue to stifle a hiss of pain. "I think you've fractured a rib." He rose and returned a moment later with strips of linen. "We'll bind your chest, and your ribs should heal in a few weeks."
She tried to sit up, but the pain had her collapsed onto the cot and gasping a moment later. "Stop saying that."
"What?"
"That I'll heal." She clenched her jaw. "You know I won't."
Viltus' lips tightened. "You might be a slow healer."
She jerked the sleeve up on her left arm, revealing the burn on one side, a shallow cut on the other. "This is a cut from two weeks ago, Viltus. I've cleaned and tended to it every day. Explain that."
His brows puckered in uncertainty—a foreign expression on his face. "You're certain it was from two weeks ago?"
She huffed, the movement causing pain to flare in her chest. "Yes."
"It's stopped bleeding."
"But the skin hasn't closed."
Viltus rubbed his chin, shadowed with scruff. "The first step to healing is when the bleeding stops."
"And what if that's the only step I'm capable of?"
His gaze dropped to the floorboards, his jaw muscles pulsing.
"My skin has never been able to heal, Viltus. Whether it's a paper cut or a knife wound."
He released a harsh breath. "Let me bind your ribs."
"Why? What's the point?"
She counted five heartbeats before he spoke again. "Stability. Even if your ribs don't heal, at least you'll have stability, and perhaps it will hurt less and prevent further injury."
"So you don't think I'll heal."
He pursed his lips. "We need to bind your ribs."
He knew she was right; he just wouldn't admit it. After helping her unbutton her dress, he had her ribs firmly bound in minutes. She began to slip her dress back over her chemise, but his hand stayed her.
"Perhaps you should rest today."
She shook her head. "I need to visit Hawke."
"Hawke?"
"The little boy I saved."
Viltus' chest heaved with a deep breath. "You've been visiting him?"
"Oh, more than that." For once, she couldn't bring herself to care whether or not Viltus approved. She lifted the dress over her and poked her head out of the collar. "I've been feeding him and boarding him—since you refuse to."
Viltus pursed his lips and with gentle movements, tugged the dress over her head and smoothed it down her torso. "For good reason, Carissa. We've discussed this." Exhaustion tugged at his broad shoulders and teased a sigh from his lips. "I understand that you're angry about what happened."
Angry was an understatement. "Ever since you've invited me into your house, I've trusted you to protect me. And you—" she swallowed "—didn't."
"I didn't know what to do."
"You could have sought help as Garma did."
His palm cupped hers. "I didn't want to leave you. I didn't want him to hurt you while I was gone."
She snorted. "Little good you staying did. For all the help you were, you might as well have not been there at all."
His eyes fluttered shut, and he fell silent. His hand squeezed hers. "Carissa, I'm sorry. I–I panicked. I saw you were in trouble, and my first instinct was to charge him, but I knew that would do little good. I wasn't sure what to do after that, but you're right." His jaw firmed. "I should have acted."
"You said you wouldn't fight him, because you were a healer." She tilted her jaw up. "If you truly loved—" She jerked her tongue to a stop, but not soon enough to stop that word from tumbling from her lips.
Viltus raised his eyebrows. "Loved you?"
She gritted her teeth, willing her scalding blush back into nonexistence.
"If I truly loved you, then what?"
She closed her eyes. She didn't have the courage to face him while uttering, "If you truly loved me, then you'd prove it through your actions."
He wove their fingers together, and she resisted the urge to drag her hand from his. "I've cared for you and sheltered you. I brought you into my home, and I've given you the best of what I have." He grimaced and glanced around the sparse room. "Which, admittedly, isn't much."
Her eyebrows peaked. "You're saying you love me?"
Color suffused his cheeks.
"Well?"
His thumb breezed across the back of her hand, and when he spoke, he was no louder than the whisper of a butterfly wing. "Yes."
She smothered the fluttering in her chest. Words without actions were useless. "Then prove it."
His eyebrows arched. "How?"
"The little boy. I want you to bring him here."
"You know I can't do that. I don't have enough to support someone else."
She ripped her hand from his.
"Carissa!"
"Fine, then. I want you to seek out those knights and tell them who Akar is and where to find him."
There was no color in his face now. He swallowed thickly. "Carissa, you don't understand what's at stake here."
"And you obviously didn't know what was at stake when Akar was going to use me in the streets. Or if you did know, you didn't seem to care."
Pain creased his expression, but he remained silent.
"So? Am I not enough? You won't reveal who this Akar is?"
Viltus scrubbed a hand across his jaw. "One of the city's richest, most powerful men. If we leave him alone, I suspect he'll leave you alone."
She straightened, though the movement pinched her broken rib. "You're not going to even try to have him arrested? After what he did?"
"You think the King would honestly care? After ordering this lockdown and causing so many to suffer and starve, you think he'd care about the attempted assault of one woman?"
"The least we can do is try."
Viltus firmed his jaw. "I can't, Carissa. I'm sorry, but I can't."
"You mean you won't." She squinted. "What happened between you and Akar? Why are you trying to protect him?"
His head dipped as he stared at the ground. "He's the one Elisa went to when she tired of me, so believe me, I don't want to protect him."
She snorted. "But you are. In fact, you're protecting him better than you were me."
"You won't forgive me easily, will you?"
She answered him with a firm, silent stare.
He shrugged his broad shoulders and rose. "If you won't forgive me, that's your problem, not mine. I've already apologized."
"An apology is just words until an action proves its sincerity." She honed her gaze into a glare. "As is love."
His lips thinned into a line. "And what have you done to prove you love me, hmm? Everything you've done has been for the sake of that boy, who's done nothing for you, and everything I've done has been for your sake, whether you realize it or not."
She lifted her eyebrows. "Now you're jealous of a little boy? Is that it?"
His nostrils flared.
"You're rather pitiful, Viltus."
If the blue in his eyes were waves, they would have been frothing with turbulence. "And you, Carissa, are as hideous within as you are without."
A noose coiled around her chest, tightening so fiercely she was certain she could feel the rest of her ribs bend and crunch. She blinked. "What did you say?"
His lips parted, as if he too had been taken off guard by his words. "Nothing." He strode to the fireplace before smoothing a blanket over the floor. He glanced up.
Their gazes collided, his cold and dry, hers warm and wet. Remorse flashed across his eyes before he turned away. But no apology was forthcoming.
Viltus could deny it until his tongue went numb, but she'd heard exactly what he's said. She settled back against the cot and stared at the wooden frame of the ceiling. In the two weeks that had passed, never had he remarked on her appearance.
Until now.
She huffed, and pain clenched her chest. No matter. She didn't need him. She would report Akar and care for the boy herself.
Her fingertips glided across her cheek, brushing firm, round boils, then rumpled skin, then the slick surface of her burn. Though Viltus was wrong about most things, there was one thing in which he was correct:
She was hideous.