early morning here, but they were already awake, preparing supplies for travel to Eritreyia.
Haven was disappointed to discover Bell already gone. He and Xandrian had left last night for Ashiviere.
He would have loved trying to interpret the painting with her.
They had decided for now the painting was safest in Stolas’s chamber. After checking on Demelza, Haven had made him take her here, lured by the mystery of the painting. While she searched the canvas for clues, he had left to meet Nasira.
Now Haven was sitting cross-legged in front of the art, her back stiff and achy as she frowned at the confusing scene. Her Shadow Wolf was stretched out a few feet away. The wolf whined as Stolas approached, but Haven couldn’t tear her focus from the painting.
Nothing about the illustration made sense. The woman in the canvas had her back turned so her face wasn’t visible. She was on her knees in a field of poppies, arms flung out and head back. Everything about the woman was luminescent—her hair, her skin, her flowing crimson robe.
But it was the pure white magick spewing from her mouth that Haven found the most fascinating.
The plaque at the bottom was titled: The Light Singer.
“What do the flowers above her mean?” Stolas asked, and she startled at how quickly he’d closed the distance between them. Sometimes she forgot he could move with such quiet speed.
She exhaled, lifting from her knees to a stand. “I don’t know yet.”
“You have been through a lot in the past few hours. Rest. It will be here in the morning.”
She turned to face him, shocked to see a fresh scratch running down his cheek. It was already healing. “What happened?”
“Nasira.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We had an argument, but you don’t need to worry about that. Not tonight. Rest.”
“I can’t. Not until I’ve bathed every bit of ick from the Demon Realm away. But Demelza is snoring loud enough to wake the Shadeling and I’m too weary to bathe myself.”
His eyes were luminous as his lips tilted into a dark grin. “I can help with that.”
“You can help me bathe?”
“Why not? It’s not as if I wouldn’t enjoy it.”
Her throat clenched at the intimacy in his voice. The promise of continuing what started in the Demon Realm was alluring. And yet . . . “Why did you lie to me?” She met his gaze. “Why not tell me you were poisoned? That you were . . .” Her voice wavered. “Dying?”
He held out his hand. “Sit down and I promise to explain.”
Her heart was racing as she let him lead her to a dark couch in front of the fire. But instead of sitting, Stolas paced in front of her, the firelight catching in his feathers. “At first, I didn’t tell you what Archeron had done because I knew you would have insisted on finding the antidote instead of the painting. I thought—hoped feeding from the others would be enough that my magick could do the rest.”
“But it didn’t.”
“It helped, and I was hopeful. But by the time I met you in your bath that night, I knew the poison Archeron used was more potent than I anticipated. Toxins from the Demon Realm are highly effective, even against me.”
A ragged breath lifted her chest. “Why not tell me then?”
“Because we were so close to your goal, and—” He raked his fingers through his pale hair. “You were willing to sacrifice so much to protect your friends, how could I not do the same?”
She closed her eyes against the tears she felt building. Did he not know how important he was to her? “Did you know my blood could heal you?”
“No. I suspect that was Archeron’s final blow. He assumed I would either die or drink from you and lose all control.”
“Except you didn’t. You stopped.” Her gaze slid to her wrist, the bandage covering her wounds. “So you decided to use the poison slowly killing you to kill the Keeper?”
He shrugged. “It was rash, I’ll admit. But I was dying anyway and she would never stop hunting you for taking what belonged to her, Haven.” His jaw hardened. “I won’t lie—killing her was a type of vengeance.”
“What did she take from you all those years ago?”
Haunted eyes lifted to meet hers. “The Demon Lord that saved my life, Raziel? He and his father came to our realm to negotiate. In return for promising them sole access to blood slaves, he would help my mother achieve peace,