Captive of Wolves (Bound to the Fae #1) - Eva Chase Page 0,43
now, but we can go over it again tomorrow if the instructions don’t stick. All right?”
“You made me a present?” I peer at him, aware that my smile has turned goofy. “You’re very generous for a kidnapper.”
Sylas’s mouth twitches in the other direction, some of his humor fading. He holds up a strange wooden contraption only a little bigger than his hand, like thin branches curved together to form a sort of cage—although you couldn’t keep anything in it, the “bars” are too far apart.
I tip my head, taking it in. “What’s that for?”
“Your foot. The crutch isn’t an ideal solution. You attach this brace around your calf, and it’ll offset some of the pressure so you can walk with less pain using just your two legs.” He pauses. “Not something anyone could steal or kick away.”
Like Kellan. In my current state, that terrifying moment feels centuries ago. Still, the idea of walking steadily without the crutch appeals to me even in my daze.
I swing my feet against the side of the bed. “Show me how to put it on?”
Sylas slides the device over my ankle, talking me through each step as he centers my foot on thin, padded slats across the bottom and tightens bark-like strips around my thin calf. They grip my skin but hardly weigh on it.
I stand up and take a few experimental steps. My body sways, but I think that’s from the giddy dizziness. With the extra support, my warped foot holds me up just as well as the good one.
I spin around and stagger. Sylas catches my arm to keep me from falling. Still watching out for me, making sure I don’t get hurt. I want to hug him, but his expression sobers me enough that I don’t try.
“It’ll take some time for the muscles in your leg to adapt,” he says. “And your foot may still hurt, especially if you’re on it for a long time. But the brace will help.”
“Thank you.” I peer down at the contraption and then up at him. The question spills unguarded from my lips. “Why are you helping me like this when you don’t really want me going anywhere?”
Sylas’s face darkens. “We may have use of you, but that’s no reason to torture you. Make what you can of what you’re given.” He gives me a careful nudge toward the bed and leaves without another word.
Abruptly, even through my joyful lightness, I find myself wondering whether he even likes me.
13
Sylas
On my way to my study after a twilight run, I pause outside the girl’s bedroom. With my ears pricked, I can make out the soft rise and fall of her breath even through the door, rhythmic but not slow enough to indicate she’s sleeping.
She’s often still awake when I come by and cast the magic that locks this door. I can imagine it must be difficult to sleep when she can clearly sense her situation here remains precarious. There’s no way I can reassure her of her fate when I’m not sure of it yet myself.
Why should I even want to reassure her? The security of my pack and our chance to redeem ourselves in the arch-lords’ eyes come before concern for any human. If the image of her vivid green eyes, turned more vibrant in contrast with the striking hue August added to her hair, lingers in the back of my mind even when she’s not in front of me, I can blame that easily enough on my long dry spell. She might be a scrap of a thing, but there’s a loveliness to her delicate form that I can’t deny.
Taking lovers from among our dwindled pack poses too much risk of adding tensions where there are enough already. My cadre has stolen off beyond the Mists from time to time to sate their lustful hungers with mortals, but I’ve held myself back from indulging in even that brief satisfaction. I thought it would be a distraction. Now it seems the lack of indulgence may become a distraction in itself, too much pent-up hunger.
Better I don’t even enjoy looking at Talia. Any desire I develop for her will only interfere with my decision-making. I’ll have to find my own chance to go on the prowl.
The thought sends an unwelcome pang through me, as if I owe any faithfulness to one long gone from this world. I shake off the sensation and murmur the spell word over the door knob.