Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
chapter 23
Maeve
It doesn’t take long for us to find a little restaurant one level down from the healer’s residence. Its entrance is a bright yellow with various plates of food and fizzy-looking drinks painted on it. Inside, it’s cozy, all domed ceilings and sturdy furniture. The bartender is dressed in a dizzying robe that shifts color depending on their movement and the light. They immediately point us to a quiet table for two in the back corner.
We gave most of the riches in the captain’s quarters of the Serpent’s Cry to the crew to ensure goodwill, but we kept enough that we won’t have to worry about paying for things for a little while. If I can find someone working with the rebellion on Drash, I can make that money stretch further, but that’s down on my list of priorities at the moment.
I manage to keep my patience until I’ve eaten the bowl of soup—a delicious mix of shellfish and root vegetables—to head off Lizzie’s concern that I have enough nourishment. We need to have a serious conversation, but we won’t manage it if we’re bickering about my growling stomach.
I didn’t expect her to be so protective the moment I got hurt, and I certainly didn’t expect it to last days after I woke up. She’s hovering. Maybe later I’ll relish the knowledge that she cares enough to worry, but right now I want to shake her until the Lizzie I’ve come to know returns.
Once my spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl, I set it down and give her a pointed stare. “No more putting this off. We’re talking now.”
Lizzie swirls the wine in her cup, her expression carefully blank. “I’m listening.”
I fight not to grind my teeth in frustration. I’ve been trying to talk to her since the moment I woke up. Why listen to reason when she can continue lashing herself with guilt? I don’t have high hopes that she’s listening now. I take a deep breath and strive to keep my voice even. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
She finally lifts her gaze to mine, her dark eyes going so cold that I shiver. “What part of you almost died do you not understand, Maeve? There was a point where you went to sleep and I didn’t think you’d wake up again. So no, I don’t think I’m overreacting.”
I grab onto my patience with both hands and do my best to not yell in her face. “This is a discussion you should have with me instead of making unilateral decisions that affect both of us. You hardly attacked me in the bath. I climbed in of my own volition, and I’m the one who drove you past the point of desire until you forgot yourself. More than that, I knew that you were emotionally distraught after your experience with the kelpie, and I still allowed us to get out of control. It took two of us to reach that point, and you need to acknowledge that. I’m not an innocent victim that you attacked in the middle of the night. I chose that, Lizzie. I chose you.”
“You chose that? You chose me?” She lets out a laugh that’s too loud and too harsh. It turns the heads of several people in our nearby space, and she leans closer and lowers her voice. “You don’t even know what you’re saying. Did you know that you would spend the next two days unconscious when you offered up your neck to me?”
Of course not. Of course I had no idea that things would spiral to that level. But if she’d told me that was a possibility, I don’t know that I would have cared. I was too far gone—just like she was. If I was anyone else, I could have hurt her.
Maybe I . . . did hurt her.
I stare at Lizzie, taking in the sharp little movements that she makes as she fidgets, the lines bracketing her mouth that haven’t gone away even though I’m feeling closer to my old self than ever. How many times today have I thought about the fact that I hardly recognize her like this? It took two of us to get to that point. She ignored that she was taking too much, and I ignored that she was emotionally fragile in the first place.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry.”
She jolts hard enough to rattle our cups on the table. “What do you have to apologize for?”
“If I hadn’t climbed in the tub with you while you were off-center because of what had happened with the water horse, I don’t think you would’ve lost control like that. I worried you. More than that, I worried you when you were already in an emotionally vulnerable place.”
“You’re wrong.” She narrows her eyes. “This is something that happens with bloodline vampires from time to time. Biting you feels almost as good as it does to be bitten by me. Sometimes we forget ourselves. Sometimes we hurt people.”