Chapter 29 · Teeth Against the Collarbone

"Mine."

It isn't even a word. It's a growl with his whole chest behind it, and I feel it in my spine before I hear it.

His hand is locked around my nape. The palm is raw, the knuckles split, and his blood is sticky on my skin. He hauls me off the ladder rung and into the dark pocket behind the well's stone lip. My shoulder blades slam into wet rock.

Above us, the boots fade. Garrick's patrol, moving on. Ten seconds ago I was holding my breath so hard my ears rang.

Now I can't breathe for a different reason.

"Vane." I keep it to a whisper. "They're gone. Let go."

He doesn't.

His eyes are wrong. The gold is swallowed up, and his pupils are blown wide and black. The silver smoke from the inner ward still clings to his coat. I can smell it, bitter, like a mouthful of burnt pennies. His chest rattles every time he drags air in.

He's burning up. I can feel it through my sweater, through his glove, through everything. After two days of this well and its bone-cold water, he's the only warm thing left in the world.

"Hey.