“Nana has the same phone number. Someone can track you here.”
“She didn’t want to change numbers in case you called. She placed a ward on the line. No one can trace it back to this house.”
“You said they sent you into hiding. Who are they?”
Her eyebrow rose slightly as she gave me a concerned look. “Asile’s guards, of course. Why do you ask?”
Did they know Pop’s and Afton’s locations, too? I’d been hiding from everyone for months, except Uncle Philip. Veronique had said she’d learned my whereabouts from a spy. Having Asile know where my family and friends were sat uneasily in my mind.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just groggy. How long have I been sleeping?”
“About three days.”
I took several sips of water from the glass and handed it back to her.
She placed her palm on my forehead. “Man, you’re boiling.”
“I feel fine,” I said.
“That’s because I poured a great deal of Nana’s elixir down your throat. You should be floating.” She placed the glass on the nightstand and picked up one of Nana’s jars of ointment.
I was definitely floating. My arm felt heavy as I touched the gauze taped to my cheek.
“See, all your moving around opened that shoulder wound.” She must’ve noticed the worry on my face because she paused. “Give it time to heal. The scar should be faint. A little makeup will hide it.”
A little? I doubted it. It was a pretty deep gash. But I appreciated her attempt at easing my fears. “Nana’s been training you well, huh?” I said.
Her fingers plunged into the gunk, and she dabbed a blob of it onto the wound in my shoulder. “Listen, I know you don’t like me. I’m so sorry about Arik. I would never have placed that spell on him. It wasn’t me, you know? It was that Bane Witch’s spirit Conemar used to possess me.”
We’d gone over this before. “I know. It’s fine. Stop stressing about it.”
“I just want to make it up to you,” she said.
“You are right now,” I said. “I have to get back to the hideout.”
“You’re safe here. Only Carrig knows where you are. Nana said you are to stay put. Her words, not mine.”
Someone came in the room, but I couldn’t see who it was with Emily blocking my view. “Oh, I forgot you have a visitor. He’s been waiting for you to wake up.”
Arik? Great. He was going to be pissed at me. I should have just jumped into the library and grabbed the Chiave. Going after Gian’s canister without help was careless.
Emily stood and crossed the room, passing him as she went out the door. He walked over and sat on the chair Emily had just vacated.
Bastien’s smile stopped my breath. It was as if I’d been in the dark so long and the sun finally came out. His blue eyes held so much concern. Tears formed on my lashes, the sight of him overwhelming me. I wasn’t sure he was real. With great effort, I reached a hand out to him, and he grasped it, his touch speeding up my heart.
“You’re here… I thought… Carrig…” My words were as broken as my thoughts. As broken as my body.
“We had left shortly before the attack.” His head lowered, and he stared at the folded paper bag in his other hand. “If I’d known you were… Well, I’m here now.”
“There was a woman with me, Agata.” My chest tightened at the thought of her lying motionless on the library’s floor.
The expression on his face was as solemn as his voice sounded. “She’s recovering in Mantello. The curers believe she’ll make a full recovery.”
“She’s okay?” A shaky laugh escaped me, relief loosening my chest.
“She is.”
“How did you get here? You could’ve—”
“Nothing could keep me away.” Bastien let go of my hand and placed his open palm on my uninjured cheek. “I was so worried.”
“My face is going to be scarred.”
“No scar could ever hide your beauty.” His smile returned, and though he’d only smiled a minute ago, it was as though it was my first time seeing it, and my heart lifted in my chest. He pressed his lips against mine. It was a gentle, careful kiss. “You’re so hot.”
“You probably say that to all the injured girls you know.” I laughed, then winced at the pain stabbing my ribs, reminding me that Veronique had punched me there.
A worried look crossed his face. “Your fever comes and goes. I’ll have Emily give you something for it.”
“No. Please stay.” The tears I’d been holding back rushed from my eyes and down my temples. “I’m scared.”
I wiped my eyes with the tissue he’d tugged out of the box on the nightstand. He slipped off his shoes, and I moved over for him. The bed squeaked as he sat on the mattress and leaned against the pillows.
He removed a book with a green linen cover from the paper bag.
“I thought I’d read a familiar book to you,” he said. “Perhaps it’ll free you from your thoughts.”
I noticed the book before I read the gold lettering: The Secret Garden. By the cover, I could tell it was a first edition. His thoughtfulness made the corners of my mouth lift.
He grinned, and there was a tilt to his lips. “Come here.”
I scooted closer and rested my head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around me, his nearness so comforting. I’d missed him. I’d missed his eyes that watched me as if he were memorizing every one of my expressions. Most of all, I missed the tiny moments with Bastien where he’d really listen to me, no matter what silly or bizarre thing I said.
“You’ll have to help turn the pages,” Bastien said.
I flipped them over and stopped on the first chapter.
He began, “When Mary Lennox was…”
Each word he read was like a soothing lullaby. His fingers continually combed my hair, calming me. I could listen to him read for an eternity. The world fell away, and there was only us getting lost in a story we both loved.
I’d look up at him now and then, admiring how the lamp by the bed lit up his beautiful face. A piece of his dark hair fell across his forehead, and a crinkle formed between his eyebrows as he read. It was cute how he changed his voice to represent different characters.
By the end of chapter three, my head kept bobbing as I struggled to stay awake. He closed the book and placed it on the nightstand. “I think it’s time you slept,” he said.
“I don’t want you to go.”
He adjusted onto his side, facing me, and took my hand in his. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Our heads rested against each other.
“Better?” he whispered.
“Much.” I squeezed his hand with what little energy I had. “I killed them. Veronique. Those Sentinels. They’re all dead.” Tears pooled in my eyes, and my lip shook. He wiped my tears away with his thumb.
“You were defending yourself,” he reasoned, parroting the words I’d repeated to myself. But no amount of reasoning could make me forget their deaths. The attack replayed in my head like a slasher movie.