Page 82 of Hymn of Breath and Bone

“Like you’ve been shit out of a sea dragon.”

Caspian’s laugh was weak and thready, and he winced in pain. “Well, that’s how I feel.”

He tried to move his wings, and I stopped him with a hand. “I helped the healers splint them,” I explained, running a gentle finger over one of the heavy sticks we’d used to brace his wings. “But I want Mira to examine them when she arrives. You also have twenty-seven stitches, internal bleeding, and nearly died.”

My voice was shaky as I spoke, fighting the tears I’d held in for two days as he lay unconscious.

“I’m fine, Urchin,” Caspian rasped, patting my hand tentatively, as if any movement pained him. “Just a scratch.”

“You’d be dead if you didn’t have magic in your blood,” I snapped.

“Luckily, I do.” He groaned, trying to force his eyes open to look at me. “You’re angry with me.”

“You nearly died,” I snapped again, an errant tear escaping my tight leash of control. “I’m fucking furious.”

Another tear escaped, and Caspian reached over to wipe it away. “I’m sorry, Urchin.”

I couldn’t stop the anxiety and pain and panic I’d been holding back for two days from bubbling over, relief making it impossible to hold my tears back any longer.

I sobbed, dropping my head to Caspian’s bedside as he awkwardly patted my hair.

“Come here, Urchin.” I looked up, and he patted the bed next to him.

“You’re injured.” I sniffed and gave him a reproachful look. “I’ll hurt you.”

“The bed is huge.” He grabbed my hand and tugged gently. Already the color had flooded back into his face, and his voice was stronger each second. “Come here.”

I acquiesced, folding myself as gently as I could next to him under his wing and arm. I sobbed into his side, my tears leaving wet patches on his bandages. He held me close for several long, silent moments.

“I love you,” he murmured, still stroking my hair as my sobs finally eased to sniffles. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“You saved my father’s life.” I said, twisting so I could see his face better from my little cocoon under his wing. His amber eyes were still hooded with exhaustion. “You remember that?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

Caspian gave me one of his half-smiles. “Because I couldn’t let you lose your parents. Because it was the only way to convince your father to trust me. Because it was the only way to save you. And—and you mustnevertell him this, Urchin—because Ran suggested it.”

“You took the advice of your most avowed nemesis?” I laughed, feigning shock.

Caspian grumbled something unintelligible into the pillow before answering. “It was mostly the first three things.”

I kissed his cheek, stroking a finger down the strong line of his nose. I’d come so very close to losing him, feeling the bond between us grow taut with agony, both when he’d been stabbed and when my father’s guards had lifted him from the sand.

“You’re going to have to change my nickname, you know,” I mused, unable to stop myself from touching him. “I’m going to be a barnacle from now on.”

Caspian laughed, then winced as the movement pulled his stitches. While we healed faster than humans, it would still be several days until he was completely healed.

I felt the pinch too, but it was far better than it had been.

Caspian glanced around, seeing the room for the first time. “Is this your bedroom, Urchin?”

“No.” I laughed. “It’s my parents’. Their bed was the only one big enough for your wings.”

“We should definitely defile it then.”

I snorted a laugh. “You could not pay me enough money to do so. And you’re in no shape to defile anything.”