Last Rites (Darkling Mage 6)

I sat bolt upright, gasping for air.

“Jesus,” Herald shouted, jerking away from me. He was in a chair, sitting by my bed. My bed?

I looked around myself. I was back in my bedroom. I blinked at Herald, once, twice, until his features fully swam back into focus.

“Water,” I croaked. “Please.”

The glass appeared by my lips, held there carefully in Herald’s hands. He tilted it gingerly until I could take in slow, deliberate sips. It was like drinking for the first time. I choked, then went back for more, the water crisp and cool against my tongue.

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; “You passed out,” Herald said quietly.

“Yeah,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I figured as much.” I looked down at my bare chest, still fascinated by how there was no wound from Carver’s treatment. My scar from Thea’s botched sacrifice, silvery and jagged, was still there, of course. It would always be there.

“The shard,” I said. “Did he get it out of my heart?”

Herald’s lips pressed into a tight line. He shook his head. My insides withered.

“Then this was all for nothing.”

“Hey. We have a phial full of anguish. That matters.” Quietly, he added: “I’m sorry you had to go through that to get it.”

I looked up at him and sighed. “I’m sorry, too.”

He squeezed my hand. “Carver says you just need to rest up for a bit.”

“I don’t think I could go against doctor’s orders if I tried,” I said, straining as I lowered my head back onto my pillow. So soft. I sighed, relishing the comfort of it – the natural, blissful state of not being in excruciating, heart-on-fire pain.

“Cute tiger,” Herald said, gesturing at the plush toy sitting by my pillow.

“Oh, yeah.”

I picked Mister Grumbles up by his fuzzy scruff, wincing and straining as I handed him over to Herald. He accepted with both hands face up, like the toy was some kind of offering. He looked down at it, puzzled.

“I stole that for you,” I said, spreading myself across the bed again.

“You what?”

“Long story,” I mumbled, pulling the covers up over my chest, already feeling the blood creeping its way up to my neck. “Just take it. It’s a gift.”

He looked at me, then back down at the tiger, bemused.

“His name is Mister Grumbles,” I explained.

“Sure it is,” Herald said, studying the tiger’s face. “So. We’re giving each other stuffed animals now? What’s next, chocolate?”

I focused my eyes just past his head, pretending that I saw a bug flying there, whatever, anything to avoid his gaze. “I’m not sure what you mean,” I said, rubbing my chest.

Herald folded his arms, Mister Grumbles getting unceremoniously squished in the process. “What’s going on here, exactly?”

“What’s going on here is one dude giving another dude a stuffed tiger.” I twiddled my thumbs. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

Herald clucked his tongue and shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “You’re insufferable, Graves.”

“You’re forgetting handsome.” I folded my hands behind my head, smirking. “Devastatingly handsome.”

“Hah. Cute. You’re a seven, at best.”