towels. Sheshoved one into his hands and pressed the other against his shoulder and arm, trying to stanch the flow of blood.
Hari stared at the towel. Dela rolled her eyes. “Wrap it around your waist,” she said.
Something that could have been humor glinted in his eyes, quickly disappearing beneath simmering rage. “He hit you,” Hari growled. He touched the space above her heart. “He was trying to kill you.”
His concern surprised her almost as much as the attack. Though his fingers were light, they seared her, cutting straight through her carefully wrought control, a lifetime of training to control fear. Images overwhelmed her: eyes cold as an arctic sea, a flashing knife arcing toward her bared flesh, cutting Hari …
She began to shake. Hari watched her, a mystery in his silence. He wrapped the towel around his waist, beads of water coating his skin.
Control, Dela. Swallow your fear. Now is not the time to lose it.
Dela took a deep breath and pulled away to look at Hari’s shoulder and arm. Despite her efforts, there was too much blood; her heart, already pounding, deafened her ears with thunder. “We need to get you to a doctor.”
“It is nothing,” he said. “It will heal in minutes.”
Dela stared at him. “Minutes? But that’s … that’s …”
“Impossible?” The barest of smiles touched his lips, and he showed her the hand he had sliced open for their blood oath. The rough bandage was gone, the blood washed away. His palm was smooth, unharmed. “I cannot die, Delilah.”
The full import of what he said hit her, lifting the hairs on her arms. Although, when she thought about it for a moment, immortality made sense. What good was a curse if you could catch an arrow through the heart and be done with it?
And by your calculations alone, dumbass, he’s probably two thousand years old. He hasn’t hung around that long just because he feels like it.
“It was brave of you to fight for me,” Hari said, “but unnecessary.”
“He hurt you, didn’t he?” she asked, suddenly finding it difficult to speak. He took a moment to answer, and only then with a slow nod. Dela tried to smile. “Well, then. I think that’s reason enough to stop someone from stabbing you.”
Hari looked astonished. Encouraged by some brazen impulse, Dela snaked her arms around his neck and tugged down his head. He did not resist her, and she brushed her lips against his rough cheek. She turned her mouth to his ear. “Thank you for saving my life, Hari.”
“It is nothing,” he said. But that was a lie, and they both knew it.
Chapter Three
While Hari was physically incapable of harming his masters, there had been times over the years when he “accidentally on purpose” allowed some of them to die. Like the sheik who commanded Hari to shield the royal body with his own during a particularly vicious volley of arrows. Hari had looked, and felt, like a pincushion. A simple step to the right, a slight movement to block certain arrows and not others, and the sheik … well, he’d ended up looking nearly the same.
And back into the box, again and again. Taking orders, following them to the letter and doing nothing more—sometimes earning punishments so severe even practiced torturers were unable to watch. It was a miracle no one had yet broken him.
And yet …
Hari had heard Dela open the door, heard her cry out, and had not thought—he’d leapt from his bath, emerging just in time to see Dela struck hard in the shoulder. He’d managed tocatch her, and for one moment remembered she had spoken no commands. He did not have to protect her.
But I do , he thought, the words so strong in his head he could not be sure he hadn’t spoken them aloud. It was the first time in all his years of imprisonment he’d actually wanted to help his summoner, and the need burned through him, creating a clean, cold rage. This intruder had hurt Dela; her life was in danger. That could not be tolerated.
The rest was a blur
Hari stared at the towel. Dela rolled her eyes. “Wrap it around your waist,” she said.
Something that could have been humor glinted in his eyes, quickly disappearing beneath simmering rage. “He hit you,” Hari growled. He touched the space above her heart. “He was trying to kill you.”
His concern surprised her almost as much as the attack. Though his fingers were light, they seared her, cutting straight through her carefully wrought control, a lifetime of training to control fear. Images overwhelmed her: eyes cold as an arctic sea, a flashing knife arcing toward her bared flesh, cutting Hari …
She began to shake. Hari watched her, a mystery in his silence. He wrapped the towel around his waist, beads of water coating his skin.
Control, Dela. Swallow your fear. Now is not the time to lose it.
Dela took a deep breath and pulled away to look at Hari’s shoulder and arm. Despite her efforts, there was too much blood; her heart, already pounding, deafened her ears with thunder. “We need to get you to a doctor.”
“It is nothing,” he said. “It will heal in minutes.”
Dela stared at him. “Minutes? But that’s … that’s …”
“Impossible?” The barest of smiles touched his lips, and he showed her the hand he had sliced open for their blood oath. The rough bandage was gone, the blood washed away. His palm was smooth, unharmed. “I cannot die, Delilah.”
The full import of what he said hit her, lifting the hairs on her arms. Although, when she thought about it for a moment, immortality made sense. What good was a curse if you could catch an arrow through the heart and be done with it?
And by your calculations alone, dumbass, he’s probably two thousand years old. He hasn’t hung around that long just because he feels like it.
“It was brave of you to fight for me,” Hari said, “but unnecessary.”
“He hurt you, didn’t he?” she asked, suddenly finding it difficult to speak. He took a moment to answer, and only then with a slow nod. Dela tried to smile. “Well, then. I think that’s reason enough to stop someone from stabbing you.”
Hari looked astonished. Encouraged by some brazen impulse, Dela snaked her arms around his neck and tugged down his head. He did not resist her, and she brushed her lips against his rough cheek. She turned her mouth to his ear. “Thank you for saving my life, Hari.”
“It is nothing,” he said. But that was a lie, and they both knew it.
Chapter Three
While Hari was physically incapable of harming his masters, there had been times over the years when he “accidentally on purpose” allowed some of them to die. Like the sheik who commanded Hari to shield the royal body with his own during a particularly vicious volley of arrows. Hari had looked, and felt, like a pincushion. A simple step to the right, a slight movement to block certain arrows and not others, and the sheik … well, he’d ended up looking nearly the same.
And back into the box, again and again. Taking orders, following them to the letter and doing nothing more—sometimes earning punishments so severe even practiced torturers were unable to watch. It was a miracle no one had yet broken him.
And yet …
Hari had heard Dela open the door, heard her cry out, and had not thought—he’d leapt from his bath, emerging just in time to see Dela struck hard in the shoulder. He’d managed tocatch her, and for one moment remembered she had spoken no commands. He did not have to protect her.
But I do , he thought, the words so strong in his head he could not be sure he hadn’t spoken them aloud. It was the first time in all his years of imprisonment he’d actually wanted to help his summoner, and the need burned through him, creating a clean, cold rage. This intruder had hurt Dela; her life was in danger. That could not be tolerated.
The rest was a blur
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