The Bone Palace - Amanda Downum [31]
He nodded carefully. “A bit bruised, but whole. The lovely lady intervened before things became unpleasant.” He picked up Azarné’s small bronze hand and kissed her knuckles. She blinked, hair sliding over her face.
“It was Myca,” the vrykola said. “He didn’t stay to fight me.” Her tiny mouth twisted with distaste.
Spider frowned. “Who attacked Isyllt?”
Azarné shrugged. “I didn’t see. They were already in the water.”
Ciaran stood, wiping at the blood on his face. Only a little cut on his scalp, Isyllt thought, but she wanted to inspect it in better light. Her own bleeding had slowed, but she was already dizzy. Her head pounded and the witchlight sputtered with every throb. The sapphire was silent once more.
“Let’s get you home,” Spider said, glancing down the dark tunnel.
CHAPTER 4
Dawn stole past the windows as Isyllt and Ciaran soaked in her wide wooden tub, and candle-shadows danced across the high-beamed ceiling. Cooling water lapped over her breasts, thick with myrrh and poppy oils; Ciaran’s chest was warm and solid behind her, his clever hands lulling her as he stroked her uninjured shoulder. She’d drained one tub-full already, flushing grime and filth back to the sewers where they belonged. The wet bandage stung the wound, but vrykoloi bites healed fast, and her magic would kill any infection that tried to grow in her flesh.
Ciaran’s lips on her nape startled her awake as the world greyed around the edges. “You’ll drown if you’re not careful.” He nudged her until she sighed and pushed herself to her feet. Tendrils of hair clung to her skin as she rose, like ink bleeding from a brush.
“I should try to find their trail while the sun is up,” she said as he helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a towel. His touch sent warmth and gooseflesh rippling down her skin in turns; the poison’s effects lingered.
“You should sleep, or you’ll pass out anyway.” He steered her toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind them.
Heavy curtains covered the windows in her room and the hearth was cold. She climbed into the high draperied bed, heedless of wet sheets. Big enough for two, like the tub, but she most often slept alone. When she couldn’t find an excuse not to sleep at all.
Ciaran lay down beside her, wrapping a feather quilt around them. “Will you rest now, or do I have to sing you to sleep?”
Isyllt brushed light fingers over his face, tracing the bruise purpling on his brow. “I nearly got you hurt tonight.” Or worse. “I’m sorry.”
He caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. “If I was afraid of harm, I certainly wouldn’t keep company with you.” She felt his smile. “You can send my payment round to the Briar.” He kissed the hollow of her wrist, humming softly. “Are you going to sleep now?”
She smiled and twined her fingers through his curling damp hair. “Not if you keep doing that.”
He hummed another bar, trailing his lips up her arm to her collarbone. His mouth brushed the uninjured side of her throat and she tilted her head back, ignoring the pain. Her fingers tightened in his hair, her left hand sliding down his back.
She stiffened as her wards tingled. Ciaran chuckled, and she sighed and rolled out of bed, securing her slipping towel. Her stomach tightened as she recognized Kiril, and all the warmth Ciaran’s touch had conjured drained away in a rush.
“What are you doing about at this hour?” she asked as she opened the door, trying to keep her voice light. Her fingers clenched in nubby linen.
Kiril blinked down at her and frowned. He touched her shoulder, brushing the edge of the bandage. “What happened?”
“An unfriendly vampire.” The smell of herbs and magic dizzied her and she leaned into his touch before she could stop herself.
His brows pulled together and he cupped her cheek with one calloused palm. “Are you all right?”
“I will be.” She covered his hand with her crippled one. “They escaped, but I’ll try to pick up the trail after I’ve rested a bit.” His pulse beat against her skin and she tightened her grip on the towel. “It was them. The tomb-robbers.